Climate of Change (17 page)

But it was only a dream, impossible in real life. She turned over and wandered into other dreams. But she did not forget this one.

In the morning Rebel woke Harbinger by rubbing against him until he reacted, and they had more sex. Then she broached a key question: “We can't stay here; it's not our way. Do we travel north or south?”

“North,” he said. “I like cold winters.”

“I like hot summers.”

“I don't want to fight you. You might rape me again.”

“No, only the first time. After that you can't resist.”

“My sister will travel with me, wherever I go. Will your brother travel with you?”

“Yes. And my other brothers will join us.”

“Then let them decide.”

Rebel was amenable, so she called across to the other pair. “Hey,
stop whatever you're doing and answer this: Do we travel north or south?”

“North,” Crenelle's muffled voice came. There was laughter in it.

“South,” Keeper said.

This was going to be a problem.

Mankind went both north and south from there, and probably west too, in a returning ripple intersecting the already-populated areas. North took him along the coast of Asia, through China and eastern Siberia, and ultimately to the Americas. South took him across the sea to New Guinea and Australia, and later to the myriad Pacific islands.

The actual pace of the development of technology is uncertain, because very little other than the stone tools and weapons survived the dissolution of time. But there were surely equivalent advances in woodworking, leatherworking, and weaving. The bola was known at this time, and the atlatl, or spear-thrower, could have been known too. Certainly modern mankind displaced
Erectus,
who faded from the world despite having dominated it for almost two million years. Probably because the technology and planning of the moderns made them superior warriors, and shrewder users of natural resources.

At this time the full flowering of mankind's culture and technology had not yet occurred. That was to be brought about not long thereafter, however, by a single significant idea that took some time to gain acceptance. This was Rebel's dream: organized specialization. To share resources to such an extent that many members of a band could concentrate on what they were best at, without being denied food or shelter or the pleasures of the opposite gender. This idea may seem obvious to the folk of today, but could hardly have been obvious to those who had survived all prior challenges by being consummate generalists. It was never grasped by
Erectus
or Neandertal, though they did have the rudiments. Four hundred thousand years ago they could make fine balanced wooden spears, and chip hand axes efficiently from large anvil stones. But that was as far as it went; they left the axes lying on the ground when through with the specific task for which they had been
chipped. What mankind did was a special type of specialization, accomplished by adult individuals within the framework of an organized culture of a supremely generalistic species. The social revolution preceded the technological one. Any human person could assume any specialist role, and become proficient therein.

In contrast, an animal will always live the type of life for which it is destined by heredity. A young rabbit will not become a predator, and a tiger will not survive by grazing on grass. Some species, like the ants and termites, do have specialist members, but they are locked in to their roles, the queen always laying the eggs, the warriors always guarding and fighting, the workers always working. Bee workers seem to be able to assume some different roles in the course of their lives, but they will never become swimmers, or scholars, or entrepreneurs. Neandertal specialized physically for the cold climate of Europe, and thereby limited himself.
Erectus
adapted to his own terrain, never feeling the need to change his environment much. Only human beings, with the ultimate tool for generalization, the reasoning brain, can specialize in everything. Because of that discovery, mankind became rapidly far more efficient in most of his pursuits, improving his safety and food supply, enabling him to increase his population enormously.

When the idea of specialization became accepted, it had a profound effect on human society. In fact, it led to the relatively rapid improvement of all the arts and crafts. For the first time there was leisure to develop the crafts as arts rather than occasional diversions. Stone knappers advanced their technology, and painters became highly proficient, and hunters developed their skills beyond anything possible before. Not only did they do more, they did better, perfecting tools to make other tools, learning to use symbolism well beyond that of word = object, a process leading ultimately to the computer age.

Thus the age of the generalist gave way to the age of the specialist individual, protected by the generalist tribe. By 40,000 years ago mankind was in full leap forward, on the way to the remarkable accomplishments we see today. Mankind has not changed much physically or mentally in the past hundred thousand years, but has instead developed social dynamics and sophisticated technical mechanisms that have
changed much of the environment to suit his inclination. All because of an idea that may have originated in southeast Asia, and rippled out to the rest of the globe, reaching Australia, Europe, and Africa, transforming the entire human culture, and the world. Rebel's dream.

Meanwhile, the dog really does turn out to be man's oldest and best friend. Probably first domesticated in Africa, the tamed wolf traveled with man wherever he went, including Australia as the dingo, and North America as the Carolina Dog, with ginger-colored coat and fox-like face, which may be closest to the original stock. The enormous variety of types dates from relatively recently, perhaps the last 20,000 years. But surely the dog was serving man well throughout, and might indeed have been the difference that enabled mankind to oust the relatives of
Erectus
from dominion of the world. A human man might have been puny compared to
Erectus,
but a man and a dog would have been more formidable.

Obviously mankind made it to the American continents; the question is how and when. An oddity is that there are indications of his presence in South America before there are in North America, though his only feasible access was via Asia, Siberia, Alaska, and North America. Could he have come by water? This was theorized in Volume III,
Hope of Earth,
but there are counterarguments, and the case is uncertain. For example, the same ice that blocked off Alaska extended to the western coast of North America. Boats would have had to slide along up to two thousand miles of ice to pass that barrier. Unless families could subsist solely from the sea for months, this seems impractical. So it seems more likely that they came overland, or along the coast at the same time as the glaciers retreated enough to leave the natural shore exposed.

During the last ice age, so much water was taken up by the ice sheets that the sea level dropped by as much as four hundred feet. This exposed land in many parts of the world, such as off southeast Asia as we have seen, and between Asia and America. Specifically, between Siberia and Alaska. What is now the shallow Bering Sea was then the broad arctic plain of Beringia. It was cool in summer and frigid in winter, covered with grasses, shrub birch and sedge. Herds of animals migrated across it seasonally, seeking better pastures beyond it. It was bounded gradually on the west by Siberia and abruptly on
the east by mountainous ice. The ice was an effective barrier; there is no evidence that mankind or other creatures crossed it in either direction until it melted, ending the ice age.

It is an irony that the same time that Beringia was open so that it could be crossed, the ice was thickest, so that it could not be crossed. When the ice receded, the sea advanced. So for 50,000 years there was always a barrier, either of water or ice, except for one time, 11,000 years ago, when there was an avenue of opportunity that allowed mankind to pass through and colonize America. But that's a later story. This one is about life on Beringia itself, 20,000 years ago. The setting is that part of Beringia that touched what are now the Aleutian Islands that trail off southwest of Alaska. The Cordilleran ice sheet covered the mountains of south Alaska, extending down the Aleutians, so that for a time that seeming wall of ice reached well beyond mainland Alaska, and became the border of Beringia itself. The land north was actually clear of ice all the way to the Arctic Ocean. This was not because it was warmer—it was cold enough—but because there was not enough moisture there to sustain a glacier. Thus there was the seeming anomaly of land to the north, and ice to the south. It was essentially an east-west barrier, not a north-south barrier. In the summer it might have melted back a little, forming fissures and drainage channels, and in winter it would have frozen again to its former extent. That marginal flow should have encouraged vegetation at the fringe, attracting grazing animals. There could have been an enduring human residence there, but for the purpose of this story it is assumed that there were only occasional explorations.

Keeper gazed at the wall of ice. It was huge and ugly, with patches of dirt and sand embedded, irregularly reaching toward the land. The edge was slushy, for the daylight sun melted it. But it froze again at night, as far as it could, and the war between sun and ice continued. Keeper was fascinated by the slow dynamic interaction.

“Ugh,” Crenelle said. “Now we've seen it; can we go?”

She did not share his interest. He knew he ought to seek a woman
who was more compatibly inclined. But he adored Crenelle, and had to try to win her. She was beautiful and healthy and infinitely appealing, and she was close, because of a family connection. She had given him his first experience of sex, and of love, and even if it wasn't returned, he was bound.

“But this is different,” he argued. “So much ice, extending so far beyond anything we know. Don't you want to see the far side of it?”

“I don't even want to see this side of it,” she retorted. “It's the ugliest thing I've seen.”

He glanced at her. Perhaps it made sense that a woman as lovely as Crenelle should hate ugliness. Her appearance was a stark contrast to that of the ice. Even bundled in her bison hide shirt and pants, she was esthetic. The only match for her in beauty was his sister Rebel, the same age. But in other respects the two were quite different.

“If we found a way around it, there might be good land,” Keeper said.

“And there might not.” She turned her head. “What do you think, Hero?”

“I'm not smart enough to think,” Hero said affably. “My brothers do it better.”

Hero was a nice guy. He was powerful, but gentle with people. And despite his claim, not stupid. He knew that Keeper wanted the company of Crenelle—wanted, in fact, to marry her—so he had agreed to come on this day of exploration.