Welcome to Earth, consciousness, and the wonders of technology. Getting here took some pretty incredible leaps in cognitive development and awareness, and I sincerely applaud you for that. Fire and cooking are, I think we can all agree, freaking incredible. On behalf of space-faring man of the future, I thank you.
I would like to say, however, that humanity could be better off. There are some…issues, we need to address. Issues that, if you were amicable to the following proposed changes, would put us all in a better position. Past and present company included.
One in a million humans will look good in this. Do you really want to chance it?
Dear Early Humans,
I’d like you to reconsider your attire of choice; the fur loincloth. I can appreciate the aesthetic appeal of hanging the dead, drying skin cells of another creature over your bits and pieces. And I understand the practicality of an open undercarriage for when nature calls, and this time it’s not a tiger stalking your young.
Instead I offer space-faring man’s solution; tightly woven strands of plant husk dyed with colorful fruit-blood.
Given enough time and practice I’m sure you’ll come to enjoy the benefits of a warm parka or a dapper stetson, just as we have. I know your current geographical location feels warm enough already. But I guarantee you’ll forget your profuse sweating the moment that special thick-necked someone spots you in a sharp-looking pair of stone-washed (literally) jeans. You can thank me later.
Pictured: Something that took us a shockingly long time to figure out.
Dear Early Humans,
Do yourself a favor. Start soaking bits of decaying organic plant-matter in boiling water. No, really. Try it.
Nothing sets the day right like a warm cup of tea. Sure, there will be some trial and error in discovering which otherwise inedible leaves, needles, and fronds make for a mean cup of Ugg-Ugg. Not to mention the difficulty of weeding out which bits of boiled decaying plants turn into deadly poisons. But your successes will make you sigh with delight. We’d know. Space-faring man is still watching strangers sigh in delight over steaming cups of tea on our magic watch-boxes, and we’ve already had it for over 3,000 years.
In fact, you might be able to jump-start civilization by a few millennia if you take to boiling the right types of decaying plant matter. Specifically grain, yeast, and water. The resulting beer will smell like poison (which it is) and may feel like part of your brain has stopped functioning (which it has) and the process of letting a micro-fungus defecate in your grain slurry and subsequently drown in it may sound gross (which it really, really is). But your neighbors will thank you for it. Then they’ll build a town around you. Then they’ll probably erect shrines to you. Unless you accidentally make a batch that poisons them to death (which isn’t too hard) then they’ll drown you in it.
The only downside will be the invention of hipsters. Worth it?
Dear Early Humans,
What’s with all the punching? We’ve been informed by modern science that our cheekbones have thickened over the millennia to better take a jab. For you this means that the next wild haymaker will be less likely to shatter the bone-cage protecting your eyes, sinuses, and muzzle if your face would just thicken up. But I ask one question of you; is this really necessary?
This development tells me that at every stage of our evolution the urge to stand up from the campfire, walk over to a tribe-mate, and punch him in his dumb monkey face, has been an omnipresent temptation. Believe me, I know this temptation. Space-faring man has invented traffic and politics to remind us of our violent urges. I beg you to temper this instinct. Save it for when it really matters. Like when he one-ups your hunting story to talk about how he single-handedly slew a direwolf. Then you can punch-dance all over his brittle face bones. Everyone knows it was just a pup anyway.
I’ll admit, that is an extremely punchable face.
Dear Early Man,
Here in the space-faring age we have an iconic image of how men of 40,000 B.C. treated their women. Namely, with club in hand, dragging the female back to his cave. Please don’t. Just, don’t. Space-faring man has just started learning that the fairer sex is incapable of forgetting a slight. Such as referring to them as the “fairer sex.”
As a sex in general, modern man has been relegated to sleeping on the couch (a frame of split logs with stretched sheets of woven plant husk stuffed with reticulated foam.) If you think it’s bad enough that when the two of you start arguing over cave paintings and she brings up your head lice for no damn reason, try having that same argument after 42 millennia of gender oppression.
Just cool it with the club, is all I’m saying.
A lovely bouquet of club is never a good gift.
Dear Early Woman,
After making love, does your mate get so excited that he wants to shout it from the mountaintops? He does? Good. But here’s the problem; in the space-faring age we all carry magic talk-boxes that fit in our waist-pouches. These boxes can, among other things, capture still images of us. It would be the same as you taking your reflection in the pond and sending it to your mate while he’s off hunting. You might, over time, be tempted to slip out of the dead animal flesh covering your bits and pieces and send him a reflection that’s more…provocative.
Don’t do this. Don’t think about doing this. Tie a string around your little finger for the next 42 thousand years to remind yourself not to do this. That instinct he has to shout his excitement from the mountaintops? That’s exactly what he’ll do with the magic talk-box in his waist-pouch. His mountaintop will be that talk-box, and your reflection will be seen on every other talk-box on the planet.
“Ugg-Ugg promise it private. It fun goof. Just between you and Ugg-Ugg…”
Dear Early Humans,
When you conquer another tribe, do you relish in burning/bashing the relics and paintings of that rival tribe? Feels good, doesn’t it?
I need you to stop.
The history of human knowledge, thus far, has been a series of stutter-stops and backsteps. The instinct to wipe out all evidence of a rival tribe ever having existed has proven too tempting on too many occasions. With every great library burnt, scroll written over, and artifact smashed, we do incalculable damage to our own collective understanding. And the change can start with you.
Next time you crush the skull of your rival with a mammoth bone, please consider leaving his junk intact. Think of his cave paintings and tribal fetishes as part of the free furnishings of a new apartment. Mount his skull next to his weird rock collection if you must. But treat everything he built as delicately as you would a pre-packaged Star Wars action figure (plant-cells treated with acid and carved to resemble a warrior from the stars.)
Except this one. This probably hits too close to home for you.
In closing I feel confident that if we nip these early issues in the bud, we stand a much better chance of advancing to the point where we, space-faring man, can colonize other planets in the solar system. A little boost is all we need. A little help from you, our ancestors, would save us years of strife and aggression, allowing us to focus on reaching the stars. Think of it like pushing a car from behind–which is a carriage made of steel–which is a mineral smelted from iron–which is a…ah, screw it. Just take my advice and stop punching each other so much. Savages.
Featured image from Google Images.
Historical events based on HumanHistoryTimeline.com