My scientist friend invented a time machine and we went back in time and did a number on some Neanderthals. I don’t know anything about the time machine except that it works with anti-time, my friend said.
We went back to the time of the Neanderthals and they were real as you and me. Except that they were more sophisticated than the anthropologist, who came with us, believed, or so the anthropologist was so kind to tell us.
These Neanderthals had pretty elaborate towns. Except that they made them out of mud, and because mud doesn’t last, we never knew about them, or so said the anthropologist, who was pretty fucking amazed at the complexity of the structures.
“Separate rooms? Impossible,” the anthropologist said.
We saw a house that had two stories and a basement and they had plumbing, too, because we figured that everyone can put two and two together and if it smells bad we could make a technology to make the source invisible.
Before we whooped ass on the Neanderthals, they gave us a pretty nice tour of their town and their government. They had a leader who was kind of like a warlord chief. He organized war parties and made truces with neighboring tribes. The thickness of their faces, as we’ve all have seen from commercials and National Geographic magazine was less than we had figured or that the scientists figured, as I wasn’t much figuring on anything and really couldn’t give a crap about the size of the bones of anyone’s face.
On the tour we saw Neanderthal children and Neanderthal lovers. I saw a Neanderthal man give a flower to a Neanderthal woman. “Amazing,” said the anthropologist.
Some of the women were downright pretty and the men could pass for just about any other men, but the angles of the face were somewhat scary. Basically, the typical Neanderthal face is pretty serious. They always look like they’re about to beat the crap out of you, even when they smile, but we weren’t scared as these Neanderthals were pretty small of frame, the biggest one I saw no more than five feet high, at least a hell of a lot shorter than me.
But they were goddamned strong little mother fuckers. I taught one to arm wrestle and he almost tore my arm off at the shoulder when he got mad because he couldn’t employ the proper technique with his stubby arms.
The reason we had to whoop ass on the Neanderthals was because we caught some of them messing with the time machine. We told then not to mess with the time machine as it was our only means back to modern times and the scientist was pretty keen on getting back and revising both theories of time travel and theories concerning Neanderthal culture. Both the scientist and the anthropologist were pretty excited (that’s an understatement: creaming their jeans was more like it) and they weren’t going to have a pack of primitives fuck with their means of transportation.
But they didn’t want violence. “No killing,” my friend said. They didn’t want to disrupt the time line or mess with the cultural life of the Neanderthals, which was why we always had to go around in clothes like they wore, which were pretty sophisticated outfits made of leather, treebark and skins. I have to give it to the Neanderthals because it was the Neanderthals who invented hats.
One night I heard a bonging of metal. I saw a couple of Neanderthal boys messing with the time machine, beating at the sides with sticks, while a couple of the older men had come with a litter which they were intending, I figured, the bear the time machine off to their town, maybe so they could worship it or disassemble it to guess at how it worked.
Luckily, we had the foresight to bring real weapons, weapons the like of which the Neanderthals had no chance against defending. The scientists liked to joke that the deeper humans move forward into history, the more their technologies and societies progress, the more the past is put into jeopardy because we simply gain more and more ability to move back into it and thus fuck with it enough to alter “delicate progressions,” as the anthropologist called them.
“It’s something we often don’t think about,” said the anthropologist. “Global warning, sure. But what about our ability to shape “delicate past progressions?”
Such as was the case now, as I had to pull out a revolver and fire it above the heads of our enemies after my respectful “please don’t do that, assholes” went nowhere. One of the young Neanderthals, probably made crazy by the explosion of the gun, a sound which he’d never imagined, grew a little disoriented. He rushed my way, so I shot him in the neck.
And then all hell heated up. We were attacked on all sides. I shot about ten of those Neanderthals until they tore off wailing.
The scientist and the anthropologist worked quickly to remove the bullets from the bodies which took some amount of time even with knives, as Neanderthal muscles are very dense. In the distance we heard what I figured was an approaching army of Neanderthals.
The scientist cranked things up and we came home. The scientist and the anthropologist were pretty shaken about the killing but the first thing they did on return was to hit their computers to analyze data, organize photographs, get to work on papers, and make phone calls. The lab assistants and students and reporters were all stunned by the success of the scientists. I was paid quite well for my trouble, as you’d guess.
Later in the week I met with my scientist friend. He said that they were scheduling another visit to the past, this time for an expedition to the age of the dinosaurs.
“Everything’s changed,” he told me. “The community is at a loss for words. And the curiosity on the part of my colleagues for other times and other places has been peaked. We’ll need you for security. This next trip may call for more intensive forms of protection, if you understand me.”
I told him I understood him just fine. That if he wanted me to whoop ass on some diplodons, or whatever you call them, that’d be fine by me as long as the price was right. And we shook hands, but I doubt I’ll actually go through with the deal. Lizards aren’t really my thing.
