Human Page 6

  The stone tool magnified on Ivy's monitor was supposedly created by a tiny-brained, chimp-like hominid, surely as evolutionarily distant from their modern large-brained cousins as humanly possible - yet the similarity in technology was remarkable. Ivy checked the box label again, looking for a mistake. Liang Bua Sector IV; Layer 8; Section E (12 items). She definitely had the right box. It seemed the evolutionary tree was about to be severely uprooted.

  Ivy began photographing the microscopic hills and valleys of the stone. They were littered with remnants of ancient blood cells and the flesh of chopped plants. Cellulose plant fibres were draped in miniature desiccated ropes across the surface. After a while, a detailed pencil sketch accompanied the photograph files and notes. Ivy began another as the hours ticked by unnoticed. The third tool was larger; a core that had first been stripped of smaller, sharper flakes useful for slicing through flesh. Instead of being discarded however, a grainy polish along the worn stone edges was evident. The edge wear was likely the result of a back and forth motion of scraping raw animal hides. Ivy scribbled in her journal as she worked.

  Marvelling at the tool maker's skill, she examined the next artefact. The stone had been progressively and deliberately chipped away along two parallel edges creating a crude and strong needle point. The stone could be then manipulated to perforate through tough hide and bone.

  “A perforator Jayne…my god. I wonder what they used it for.” Still staring into the microscope eyepiece, Ivy pondered aloud. “Decoration of clothes, hides? No, surely not… too primitive….”

  “Hiranah…” A deep voice whispered behind her neck, soft and guttural. Too close.

  “Huh!?” Ivy's heart raced as she spun around. Nobody. She was alone in the room. The hair on her neck stiffened and tingled sending a shiver down her spine. The laboratory door was closed and there was nothing but space behind her. Jayne’s chair sat empty, her row of test tubes pushed neatly to the wall. A rush of cold ran up Ivy's arms and she shook off her imagination.

  “Talking to myself - the first sign of madness.”

  The word LUNCH was scrawled across the whiteboard with a happy face drawn underneath. “PS. Don't forget your two o'clock tutorial.” A husky-voiced presenter introduced another song on the radio as Ivy stared blankly for a moment at the whiteboard.

  “Shit!” A glance at the clock as she ran out of the lab told her that she was already ten minutes late for the group of undergraduates waiting for her. Ivy took the stairs two at a time in favour of the temperamental elevator. Her tardiness was commonplace and the small, tightly-packed room of students hadn't appeared to notice. Chatting and texting with their feet on desks and coffees in hand, the group was typical of a second year class. It was early in the semester with exams still a distant thought and the confidence of their first year behind them.

  “Sorry guys, important meeting,” she called over the general noise as she strode in, wondering if they ever actually believed her. It seemed they didn't.

  “Nice meeting glasses,” laughed a pierced boy with shaggy, unwashed hair.

  “Yeah thanks Travis.” Ivy rolled her eyes good-naturedly, trying to brush off her embarrassment. She rubbed the red rings around her eyes left by the microscope eyepiece, “Lost your brush again?” Travis chuckled and took an aim at the overflowing bin with his empty coffee cup.

  “Alright let’s get into it shall we? What's on the agenda today?” Ivy asked.

  “Chapter three - migration patterns,” offered Kathryn passing a fat textbook forward. One of only three mature-aged students in the class, her attentive and constant barrage of questions proved both annoying and useful to Ivy, as class discussions were often chanelled into interesting divergents.

  Ivy perched herself on the front desk swinging her legs casually. “Right, okay so we're looking at the migration of early humans across the continents. Who, when, where, why and how. So, who did their readings?” A few mumbled apologies, a few “yeahs” and a handful of blank faces were thrown back at her.

  “Come on guys,” Ivy admonished, “keep up or you'll be cramming pretty badly in a few weeks. Don't come crying to me when Professor Emery whips your arses.” A scattering of appreciative giggles followed Travis's impromptu demonstration.

  “Righto, let’s get into it. Okay, the line of modern human evolution is based in a pretty complicated tree. We've got branches here and there and evidence from many different fields – archaeology – obviously, palaeoecology, geology, palaeobotany, climatology, and genetic phylogeography. We'll look at each of these methods in detail as we progress through this course. What we are interested in this term, is the spread of anatomically modern humans across the continents, particularly as it applies to South East Asia, including the Sahul continent.” She noted some quizzical eyebrows in the audience. “For those of you who didn't do their readings, that's Australia.” Someone at the back gave a patriotic whistle.

  “So,” Ivy continued, determined not to lose their train of concentration so early, “who's going to give us a rundown on traditional theories?” Kathryn raised her hand as anticipated.

  “Okay, Kath, the floor’s all yours.” Ivy leaned back surveying the room and the other students shuffled a little more upright in their chairs. Kathryn looked around a bit imperiously and cleared her throat recounting her exhaustive textbook analysis with perfect recollection.

  “Brilliant,” said Ivy. “So we've got anatomically modern humans, skipping out of Africa within the last 100,000 years, which happens to coincide with some significant social advances and innovations in tool making. Innovation allows for the manipulation of new resources and environments; migration encourages change through adaptation; change leads to innovations in technology…. a classic case of which came first - the chicken or the egg? Migration or Innovation? But, we’ll get into that mess tomorrow.”

  Ivy heard a few groans.

  “But first,” she held up her hand, “let’s talk about a much earlier migration from Africa. Pre-humans originally left what is now considered to be the ‘cradle of humankind’ at some point between 1.8 million years and 300,000 years ago. We have numerous subspecies of Homo erectus that span Europe to Indonesia during that time.” Ivy grabbed a whiteboard marker and began scribbling notes on a timeline.

  “We've got the sexy ‘Java Man’ excavated in 1893 and ‘Peking Man’ as our celebrity erectus poster boys.” She grinned at the anticipated wolf whistle.

  “But there are many more sub-species; our smaller cousins Homo erectus georgicus from central Asia- 1.75 million years young, and from China you’ll find Nanjing Man, Lantian Man and Yuanmou Man. In Java we also have Solo Man and Tautavel Man lived in France nearly half a million years ago. Ironically, at least half of those fossil ‘men’ were female.” Kathryn shot her a wry smile.

  “And let’s not forget Homo erectus palaeojavanicus. More commonly called ‘Meganthropus’,” Ivy continued, turning back to the whiteboard, “which is a seriously misunderstood fossil who was believed for a long time, to be a giant.” Ivy faced the group with a wide smile. “Sadly, he’s not a giant though- just the Schwarzenegger of hominids. Tall guy, big muscles, funny accent.”

  “Come with Meganthropus if you want to live,” offered Travis in a terrible impersonation. A few students groaned and Claire kicked the back of his chair.

  ‘They couldn’t talk, idiot,” said Claire.

  Travis looked affronted. “Could so. Couldn’t they Ives?”

  Ivy bit back a laugh.

  Oliver, a new transfer student turned to face Claire instead. “He’s right. Erectus had to have spoken in some capacity. They co-ordinated hunts, made complex tools and cared for weak and sick members of their groups. They could harness and use natural fire by 800,000 years ago, so they cooked their meat. Erectus had a larger brain capacity than earlier hominids and the part of the brain linked to speech was already developed. Right?”

  Oliver turned to Ivy for confirmation and she nodded, impressed.

 
Travis shot Claire a dirty look. “I’ll be back.” Claire scowled at both boys.

  Ivy began pacing the floor. “Okay guys, but one thing we need to keep in mind is that Homo erectus populations were extremely successful; in Africa, the ‘old world’, it’s generally accepted that Homo erectus became Homo sapiens and eventually anatomically modern humans- that is, you and I.”

  “In the so called ‘new world’ of Europe and Asia, they’re considered to have given rise to archaic Homo sapiens and Neanderthals,” Ivy tapped at the wall map with her fingers, “and new research suggests at least one erectus population may have actually co-existed with modern humans in Indonesia only 40,000 years ago.

  So, the question begs to be asked; could there have been even more descendant species of Homo erectus that haven’t been discovered yet? How big was this branch of our evolutionary tree?” Ivy stood in front of the class, animated, her eyes bright. “In those dark, hidden forests and caves of the new world, what other types of humans existed before we arrived from Africa? How did they evolve? And most intriguing of all,” Ivy paused for dramatic effect. “Why did they die out?”

  Ivy lay her cello gently back into its case. She stood up stretching and pulling at her aching neck and shoulders. Once again she'd lost track of time. She crossed the small tutorial room, leaning out the shuttered window before pulling it shut. The sky was darkening outside and Kyah would be waiting for her to visit before she left for the day. As Ivy bent to pick up the cello case, there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, Orrin's head popped around the corner.

  “Found you.” Orrin winked at her.

  Ivy raised an eyebrow, pausing midstep. “Apparently so, although I'm not sure how-”

  “Jayne again.”

  “Aah.” Damn that girl. Ivy pushed her fringe behind her ear, balancing the cello case on her foot.

  Orrin looked around the room curiously. “Did you have an audience?”

  “No, I just like practicing in here sometimes,” Ivy replied, critically conscious of their last conversation. The one where she’d rejected him. “The acoustics are good,” Ivy said, “and there's an audio recording facility set up for tutorial sessions. Students use it so they can slacken off in class and download the sessions later.” Orrin laughed and Ivy shrugged, smiling. “When it's quiet, I record my cello practice so I can play it back at home. It helps me pick up mistakes.”

  “I bet there aren't any. Mistakes, I mean.”

  “Ha, no of course not. I'm a regular Offenbach.” Ivy rolled her eyes, good naturedly. Damn you Jayne. She changed the subject. “You were looking for me?”

  “Oh yeah.” Orrin took a deep breath. “The other night, I think I might have given you the wrong impression. Well, not entirely wrong maybe, but, I didn’t mean to mess you about. I was actually wondering if perhaps you might consider-” he paused, his eyes shining hopefully. Ivy felt a familiar twisting in her stomach. No, no, no. Don't get distracted, you've been down this road. It’s messy. It hurts. You don't need this. You have work. Research. Kyah.

  “Kyah. Kyah! Sorry Orrin, I have to go.” Ivy pushed past him, ignoring the rush that came when her shoulder grazed his arm. She could feel the heat course her neck and face and cursed having such pale skin. “I just remembered I was meant to call into the biology lab earlier – Kyah’s, um, medication. Damn it. I just- I really have to go. We’ll talk soon.” Ivy smiled apologetically over her shoulder as she walked away as fast as she could with the unwieldy cello case, lugging it down the stairs to avoid the risk of getting caught with Orrin in the elevator.

  “The Dish”, Parkes Observatory, New South Wales

  As Neil pulled into the Parkes Observatory he never failed to be impressed by the sixty-four metre radio telescope. As the largest of its kind in the southern hemisphere, “The Dish” as it was affectionately known, had become an Australian icon. The facility had become legendary for its role of receiving the images of the first Moon Walk in 1969. Now, over 120,000 visitors travelled the vast emptiness of Western New South Wales to marvel at its distinctive shape each year. The receiver was constantly upgraded with cutting-edge technology and remained a vital tool for astronomers. Decades of achievement hung in the visitor centre, complete with educational theatres and paraphernalia for tourists. As an added bonus, sightseers could even ogle the giant rotating dish from below, over a cup of coffee and sandwich from the café.

  Primarily, the dish was used to measure the radio energy produced naturally by stars, galaxies and clouds of gas and dust within the universe. Tracking and receiving the data sent by space probes was a minor directive, as well as receiving radio transmissions from space craft during exploration missions. A team of twenty engineers and astronomers lived and breathed its glory, 24 hours a day, every day of the year.

  Neil dropped his polished silver cigarette lighter into his pocket; the engraved nautical helm wheel on its front caught the red afternoon glare. Underneath was a single engraved word, Benjamin. Neil bypassed the straggling holiday makers as they shuffled back to their cars, ready to resume their journeys along the epic Newell highway linking Queensland to Victoria. Neil always preferred this time of day. The sun was setting a rich red across dead-flat sheep paddocks. A hot wind blew through the dry grass toward the distant Goobang Range and kangaroos dotted the horizon. He drew on his cigarette one last time, heeling it on the pavement.

  Dimitri and Cassandra were waiting for him in the observers’ quarters. Dimitri was attacking his laptop with lightning fingers, still trying to resurrect the corrupted files. Cassandra paced the small living room flicking her shower of ebony hair as she turned. Her blue eyes were glued to the monstrous, polished white dish dominating the window frame. She startled as Neil strode in, loudly discarding his overnight bag to the tiles.

  “Chill out Cass,” Dimitri murmured. “You’ll wear a hole in the carpet.” After a wary glance at Neil, the younger man resumed his focus punching keys.

  Cassandra raised an eyebrow. “You can talk Dimi. Christ, passive-aggressive tendencies perhaps?”

  Neil studied the younger man's tense shoulders bent furiously into his work and the sweat shining from his pores. Good.

  Cassandra turned to Neil. “So how did we get in here so fast? I thought the La Trobe team were working on the Pulsar Timing Array.” Her smooth voice failed to hide an undercurrent of apprehension.

  Neil moved to the centre of the small room, demanding Dimitri's attention. “I pulled some strings Ms Chevalier. Damn expensive ones. So you’d both better make this happen. Yanking the PTA team out will raise questions – and piss them off.” Neil's ‘Target of Opportunity’ proposal had overridden scheduled observations, effectively cutting out their competition. The proposal was rarely used. It had been created solely for situations where astronomical events of extraordinary scientific interest cropped up unexpectedly. I’d class this as extraordinary. “We’ve got the Dish for the next 5 days – no questions asked, under the Time Critical Clause – but it won’t last.” Neil scowled, to emphasize his point.

  “Data Proprietary?” As chief number cruncher, Dimitri was all about data security.

  “No deal. Cutting the scheduled observations kills our right to the eighteen-month period of data privacy. Whatever we learn here will be open to the public in seven days. Hell, what does it matter, in a few days it’ll be all over the news, anyway.”

  “We’ll be all over the news…” Cassandra began.

  Neil met her assumption with silence and a clenched jaw. Correction – I’ll be all over the news. Cassandra’s eyes flashed at the unspoken reproach. Her sycophantic facade returned.

  “So when can we get in there, Director?”

  As distracted as he was with this mess, Neil still considered watching Cassandra a leisure pursuit. A few days stuck here and she might be willing to reconsider my previous offer. “We get in there now kids. Get your stuff, John’s waiting.”

  From the outside, the base of the dish resembled a clay
windmill with three levels of small square windows. It seemed scarcely strong enough to support the massive parabolic receiving dish above it. The high precision wave-panel dish had been extended over the years by aluminium plate and steel mesh, culminating in one thousand tonnes of engineering precision.

  The grounds were deserted. The operations manager greeted them, running through the usual reminders before retiring for the night. Well experienced with the equipment, they each listened with the patience of school children waiting for afternoon bell.

  The control room was a cramped circular cave lined by white desks, cobalt monitors and high racks of equipment. Flashing lights and tons of electronic cabling connected sensors and experiments, giving the impression of organized chaos. Neil hunched over the motion control console, the familiar smell of country air still lingering on his tastebuds.

  Astronomical navigation had always been Neil's strong point at university but the nitpicking of detailed research had irritated him. The money was bad and the food chain placement even worse.

  He’d decided that his science career would only be worth pursuing if it paid, as it were. So, years ago Neil had dismissed the nitpicking in favour of corporate management. He’d exceeded his goals, and not through diplomacy. On rare occasions like this however, he enjoyed the moments of pure science. It had always called to him. Like a sailor following stars…

  With a rush of key strokes, Neil focused the master equatorial telescope hidden in the heart of the dish structure to the co-ordinates of their last known readings. The giant receiver began to slowly shift its gaze as the tiny guide tracked a new course across the sky.

  Neil got to his feet. “Okay kids, fourteen hour shifts - you two can start. You’d better have something for me by morning.” Neil smirked, flipping his hard hat back onto his head as he pulled the door closed behind him.

  Dimitri scaled the thirty metre tripod-leg that ascended to the sky from the centre of the dish, thankful he wasn’t acrophobic. Like an ant on the ground, Neil entered the observers’ sleeping quarters far below him. Good riddance. For a moment Dimitri contemplated the rumours. If he hadn’t overheard two of the board members himself, he mightn’t have believed it.