===========Back to the Garden============================= Most of the people on the station assumed The Immortal was just what he seemed – a maintenance tech who enjoyed giving the scientific staff shit, and making them like it. A minority assumed him a long running experiment from Psychology. Phillip, the string theorist, with his crystals, and tarot cards believed every word the tech said. Whatever you thought of The Immortal, nobody denied he told a damn fine story.
So when he put down his drink, and rose to his well muscled 4 foot 9 of height, the hawks and doves paused in their usual argument about the latest 'humanitarian intervention'. "I was there you know", he said. "I was there when war was invented."
The attention that focused on him was not the usual tall-tale anticipation. This was a little too close to home.
His stance was absolutely relaxed. "In the great way-back-when we had other things to worry about than killing each other. No not food – stuff you could eat pretty much grew everywhere. And for treats there were grubs, and small monkeys; we'd stumble on the occasional hidden newborn grazer with no adults around.
"But the problem was, a lot things liked to eat *us*. Cats – there more kinds of cats, and a larger number than you could believe, most of them a lot meaner than anything you have today. Some of them moved in packs." The shudder, if faked, was Broadway quality acting.
"We could do without men more easily than women, cause y'know fewer men doesn't have to mean fewer babies, but fewer women does. So we men took the brunt of it – outer perimeter, point, watch – whatever you want to call it. The women would fight if a cat got past us of course; but everyone made damn sure we did most of the dying."
Phillip was positively glowing. "The ancient original matriarchy!"
For the first time since he began the story The Immortal smiled. "I dunno that I'd call it a matriarchy exactly. If the men got eaten by cats, the women died in childbirth. And decisions were mostly made by people, men and women both, who'd lived long enough to prove their opinions were worth listening to." The smile faded. "Anyway, there wasn't any point in arguing who was in charge. We knew who was in charge – the damn cats."
One of the arguers stirred: "Sounds awful."
The Immortal nodded. "Thinking about it now, that seems 'bout right. But not only awful. Sometimes there was a kind of thrill in the danger. You go to horror movies and ride roller coasters for that now. And you've got to understand, with our world view, these all powerful alien creatures who ruled our lives – we didn't look on them the way you look on animals now. They were gods, gods and demons. Sometimes things went well, and we worshipped our gods with our spears; mostly we worshipped them with our bodies. We needed no altars for our sacrifices. The gods came to us, without invitation."
Phillip broke the hush. "But what about war? What does this have to do with war?"
The Immortal's gaze slowly came back into focus. He was returning from some place very far away. "Well just because we worshipped the creatures didn't make us love them killing us. The idea of giving a god unconditional worship – that's new. We never thought the gods were on our side. They ruled because their power let them – we defied or tricked them when the chance came. And the chance did come because of a luxury, almost a child's toy – a little thing you call the bow. "
"Not good for much d'ya see. We made them from softwood, elm I think. They could kill birds for a treat; we'd let kiddies to play with them sometimes – no use otherwise. Then someone got the bright idea of making one from yew wood. "
His back straightened, voice deepened. "No kiddies toy that. You could kill anything with it – cat, dire wolf. Even a boar would die if you put enough arrows in it. And you could kill them from such a distance - most of the time you needn't die yourself to finish them."
"To start with we just used use them to make guard duty easier. You could protect the tribe and still live! But why stop there? We could send out hunting parties to find those demons and slay them in their kingdoms. Kill the great herds they lived on too. We didn't need so many of the things; so why leave our demons a chance to feast and grow strong again?"
Phillip's eyes brimmed with horror. "The Holocene extinction? You were responsible for the Holocene extinction?"
The Immortal chuckled. "Not me by myself. Not just my tribe either. But all of us humans together – sure. " His tone sharpened. "Would you rather be cat food?" Then he softened again. "Maybe you would. Maybe we all would. "
"Because, after a while, we grew bored - and more than bored. We felt empty – especially the men. There was a cat-shaped hole in our spirit. We weren't protectors anymore. We would still separate out from the main tribe into hunting parties; it was a habit by then. Regular foraging provided all the tribe needed. Hunting parties had become just an excuse to avoid our share of the regular work; the boar and venison and such we brought in were tasty but did not really make up for that."
"And then one day we ran into a hunting party from another tribe. We did the usual. They shouted friendly insults; we shouted friendly insults. But something went sour. The insults grew less friendly. One of them hit home and somebody shot an arrow. Somebody else shot an arrow back and before we knew it, there were dead on both sides. We managed to declare a truce (the very first one) and both sides dragged bodies home. And even as we mourned the dead, in the old style, the mourning for a sacrifice, I knew that it was not the last time groups of men would kill men. (The women might have decided otherwise. But we had the bows.) "
"Even today men prey on men. Men prey on women – very occasionally the reverse. Rich prey on poor; we even make up races to divide into and find another way to prey on one another. We're still filling that cat-shaped hole, still trying to get back to the garden."