299,880 BCE – 299,760 BCE | Episodes 25–48

There was one who found the fragments.

A young one picked up the two fragments that the one had left behind. One felt familiar in the hand. The other gleamed sharply. The young one discarded the old stone and began carrying only the fragments. A piece for scraping and a piece for striking. Their purposes had divided.

Another noticed as well. The wooden branch scraped with the fragment was smooth. It could be carved to a fineness that ordinary stones could not reach. The tip for piercing prey became sharp. Prey became harder to escape.

Those who possessed fragments increased. Differences emerged between them and those who did not. The frequency of catching prey. The precision of carved tools. The time required for work.

In the dense forest, sturdy ones of short stature gathered fruit. To crack the hard shells, they struck with stones as always. It took time. The neighboring group used sharp fragments. The shells opened easily. The time spent eating fruit grew longer.

Near the great river, those with protruding brows speared fish. The work of carving wooden points continued. Scraping with stone took until sunset. Scraping with fragments finished while the sun remained high. Time for spearing fish increased.

In the frozen highlands, a new breed of group skinned pelts. Stone blades tore the pelts easily. Fragment blades peeled them cleanly. Warm nights increased.

Upon this world, among those performing the same tasks, differences in time were being born.

At the same moment, there was a group hunting on ice-covered land. They used ordinary stones and took a full day to bring down their prey. In distant grasslands a child was born, its birth cry mixing with the wind. In deep forests trees fell, rotting away unnoticed by anyone. At the seashore waves carved rocks, continuing to create new forms.

A plague covered this world.

Among the groups with protruding foreheads, those skilled at hunting fell first. In the dwellings of the short, sturdy ones, the sound of splitting stone diminished day by day. The new species groups lost half their number, and those who remained continued their migration in fear.

Some invisible force seemed to be choosing the strong. Muscled arms, sharp eyes, swift feet. Those who possessed these qualities died the earliest.

Yet far away in distant mountains, another group continued hunting unchanged. At the confluence of rivers, new life was born, and on the rocky shores near the sea, children's voices echoed. The star illuminated the diseased places and the wholesome places equally.

The survivors asked: Why only me? There was no answer. Something that was neither strength nor wisdom divided the boundary.

In the forests leaves scattered, on the grasslands wind continued to blow. The disease passed through and moved toward other places. The workings of the world did not cease.

Where the earth had split, steam rose up, and in the grasslands new shoots showed their faces. A child was born in the ice-covered highlands, and in the depths of the forest an aged one fell asleep. The sea carved away the land, and the wind carried sand.

Rivers froze, and snow accumulated. Deep, deep.

In the densely wooded regions, tree branches broke under the weight of snow, and even in the scorching sandy lands, ice formed at night. In the frozen highlands, wind carved the rocks, and where great rivers met the sea, the current stopped. Even at the rocky shores where the scent of tide reached, the waves froze solid.

Those who could move headed south. Four-legged beasts and two-legged ones alike. Some groups fought over food, while others huddled together. The broad-browed ones raised smoke in valleys, and the short, sturdy ones took shelter in caves. The groups of the new kind scattered.

By a frozen river, a single child was crying.

Flames erupted from the depths of the earth. Mountains split open, and molten stone flowed forth. The sky darkened, and ash fell.

In the smoke-shrouded valleys, groups scattered. On ash-covered grasslands, beasts fled south. Wind carried the ash, and rivers mixed with ash. Birds did not sing, and the sounds of insects ceased.

Groups with protruding brows evacuated to high ground, while short, sturdy ones hid in deep caves. The new species moved away from the mountains. All in the same direction.

Through the ash, a small shadow walked, stumbling.

The cold deepened. Ice covered the rivers, and the grass withered completely. Snow fell endlessly, and the animals thickened their fur and huddled together.

In the freezing highlands, short, sturdy ones gathered around fires deep in caves. Even when smoke stung their eyes, they would not extinguish the flames. Only fire sustained life.

Where the great river flowed into the sea, those with protruding brows gathered shells. From beneath the ice. Even as their fingertips threatened to tear away, they continued gathering. It was all they had to eat.

On the windswept plains, several groups of the new kind had joined together. It was a season when none could survive alone. Without words, they joined hands to live.

In the snow-buried forest, small footprints came to an end.

In the same moment, beneath the glacier a small flower sprouted. On rocky shores where the scent of tide carries, a crab shed its shell. In a distant forest, a nut fell to the ground. Seeds took flight on the wind. By the great river, a child from another group stood up for the first time. Walked unsteadily but walked. Clouds drifted, rain fell, then cleared again.

On the burning sandy earth, two groups met for the first time. Those with protruding brows and those of the new kind. They stopped upon seeing each other. Some gripped weapons. Some hid children behind them.

Wind lifted the sand. In that moment, one child crossed the boundary. A child of the new kind. It stood before one with a protruding brow. Extended its hand.

The one with the protruding brow stared at the hand. A long time passed. Eventually touched that hand. The child smiled.

From that day, the two groups began sleeping in the same place. They shared fire. They shared food. Though they could not speak each other's language, they communicated through gestures. Where to find water. About dangerous beasts. Safe paths.

But not everything was harmonious. In the dense forest regions, another encounter called forth blood. Three kinds aimed for the same prey and conflict arose. Stones flew and cries echoed through the trees. There were no victors. All were wounded, all fled.

Where the great river flowed into the sea, those of different kinds bore children together. These children had faces unlike either father or mother. Everyone in the group gazed upon these children. With wonder. With fear. With tenderness.

The seasons changed. Ice formed, melted, formed again. Groups moved, separated, met again. Some were accepted, some were driven away. Boundaries were rewritten daily.

On the frozen highlands, an elder of the new kind drew their last breath. Those with protruding brows carried the remains. Bore them to their own mountain. Dug holes, piled stones. Among the dead, there was no distinction of kind.

On the plains where grass swayed in the wind, the short and sturdy ones made tools. They carved stone, carved wood, shaped forms. Those of the new kind watched and learned. Imitated. Eventually created their own forms. Knowledge flowed from hand to hand.

On the rocky shores where the scent of tide reached, children played together. Children with protruding brows, children of the new kind, short and sturdy children. They chased each other, threw stones, raised voices in laughter. The adults watched from a distance.

Then for the first time, boundaries became unclear. Where did their own kind end, where did others begin. Though they looked different, they laughed the same, cried the same, died the same.

The world began to change quietly. Not through one person's decision or one event, but countless small contacts, countless small choices were creating new currents on this world.

Rain fell heavily. Rivers overflowed. Water filled the plains. Animals gathered from distant places, seeking water.

The one sat with knees drawn up. Cold mud clung to the soles of the feet. While companions moved about busily, the one alone remained still.

Fruit grew abundant. Branches drooped under their weight. The hands of gatherers never ceased. The collected food was piled on stones, forming mountains.

Even when the belly was full, the one continued eating. Sweet juice ran down the chin. Nausea came. But the hand reached out again. As if trying to fill something.

Herds of beasts migrated through. Large beasts with long horns. The hunters grew excited. They knapped stones. They braided ropes. They set traps.

The one did not join the hunt. The one gazed at the beasts. Their horns gleamed in the evening light. Beautiful, the one thought. I don't want to kill them, the one thought. Could not tell anyone.

An elder fell ill. The body trembled. Breathing became shallow. Those around grasped the hands. Made sounds like singing.

The one also reached out. Touched the elder's forehead. There was fever. But it was warm. Alive. Still alive.

A child was born. A small body. Birth cries echoed in the night. The mother was exhausted. Blood flowed. But she was smiling.

The one watched from afar. Envied the new life. Thought that once, I too was small. Thought that someone had held me.

The group grew larger. Unknown faces increased. There were those with protruding foreheads. There were short, sturdy ones. All gathered around the fire.

The one sat outside the circle. Gazed at the flames. Beyond the flames were various faces. All faced the same direction. Only the one looked elsewhere.

Water receded. Earth appeared. New soil. Soft soil. Seeds were buried. Shoots emerged. Green spread.

The one walked carefully, avoiding the shoots. Walked without making footsteps. Felt as if something was listening. Felt as if something was watching.

Winter came. But it was a warm winter. Ice was thin and melted quickly. Animals too were gentle. There was little conflict.

The one picked up fragments of ice. Melted them in the palm. Picked up more. Melted them again. What disappeared was dear.

The boundaries grew vague.

There had been invisible lines between groups, but they began to fade. Those with protruding foreheads announced themselves with the sound of striking stone. The short, sturdy ones wove grass to mark their presence. The new kind carried fire without letting it die.

When they found each other's signs, sometimes it led to conflict. Stones were thrown. Blood was spilled. But sometimes it ended with only staring at one another. Sometimes hands were extended.

Where the great river met the sea, three groups drank from the same water. None knew of the others. Upstream, those with protruding foreheads caught fish. Midstream, a woman of the new kind drew water. At the mouth, the short ones dug for shells.

In distant mountains, a volcano sent up smoke. Ash rode the wind and was carried far. It settled thinly across the plains. Animals coughed. Birds changed direction. The sky grew hazy.

The number of beasts increased. The grass was abundant. Hunters could choose. Aim for large beasts, or be satisfied with smaller ones. Some were greedy. Others stopped when they had enough.

Many children were born. The mothers' bodies had grown strong. Food was sufficient. Safe places existed. Half the children born survived. More than before.

The elderly began to die. In the midst of abundance, their time had come. They died not from hunger, but because their time arrived. It was a new way of dying. The groups were confused. They did not know how to grieve.

The flames burned for seven days.

A third of the great forest was lost. The smoke reached distant mountain ranges, and ash fell across three great rivers.

The fleeing beasts settled in new places. Herds of deer appeared in grassland regions, packs of wolves made nests in rocky mountains. The ecosystem was rearranged.

Groups that had escaped the flames encountered one another. Those with protruding foreheads, short sturdy ones, the new kind. Sometimes they were hostile. Sometimes they cooperated. Sometimes they crossed species lines to save children.

The first thing to appear in the burned areas was small green shoots. They grew using the ash as nourishment. The beginning of a new forest.

In the far northern glacial regions, different changes were occurring. The ice was beginning to melt. Sea levels rose bit by bit. Coastal groups moved to higher ground.

In the eastern desert, the rainy season was lasting longer. Oases increased. New groups settled there. They arranged stones to create boundaries. The first construction.

In the southern highlands, lumps of iron were found in the red earth. Hard, heavy stones. No one knew how to use them. But they picked them up. They thought they might be useful someday.

On this world, something was always ending, and something was always beginning. The flames were one such thing.

The glacier collapsed with a thunderous roar.

At the northern edge, the sound of white masses falling into the sea echoed. Waves were born and reached distant shores. The sea level rose by a finger's width.

At the same time, red earth was being carved away by rain in the southern rocky mountains. Iron-scented mud flowed into the river, staining the downstream water rust-colored. The beasts that drank this water fell ill. The herds sought other watering places.

In the east, sandstorms continued for three days. The sky turned yellow and hazy; even at midday, no stars could be seen. The oasis water was buried in sand. Those who lived there packed their belongings and began walking unknown paths.

In the western forest, a new disease was spreading. The leaves of trees withered black, and fruit rotted. Birds fell, small animals disappeared. The forest was wrapped in silence.

Those with protruding foreheads took refuge in high places. The short, sturdy ones retreated into underground caves. The new species gathered near water. Each found their own way to survive.

In the burnt lands, green was beginning to return. New grass sprouted from the scorched earth, and small insects crawled about. Life did not cease. It continued, changing form.

This world kept turning. Ice collapsed, earth flowed, wind blew, and green things grew. Everything happened within the same time.

The earth moved.

Ice in the north collapsed and fell. Sea levels rose. Groups by the shore moved inland. They crossed mountains with bloodied feet. Carrying children on their backs, pulling the elderly by the hand.

In the south, the rain would not stop. For seven moons, water fell from the sky without end. Rivers overflowed. Plains were swallowed. Herds of deer fled to higher ground, and people followed after them.

A volcano erupted in the eastern forests. Lava flowed, trees burned. Smoke covered the sky. Days without sun continued. Birds lost the branches where they rested their wings. Only creatures that crawled along the ground survived.

A lake appeared in the western desert. Water burst forth from underground. Dry soil became mud. Seeds sprouted. Green spread everywhere. Those who had traced footprints in sand rested in tree shade for the first time.

The seasons changed.

Rivers formed where ice had melted. Rivers carved new valleys. Animals gathered in the valleys. People came, following the animals. Those with protruding brows, short and sturdy ones, new kinds. Each took different paths, yet all arrived at the same valley.

Encounters occurred. They stared at each other. Gripped stones. Roared. Fled. Chased. Blood flowed.

In another place, a different encounter unfolded. A child became lost. A woman of the new kind found a child of those with protruding brows. She carried it on her back as she walked. The mother with the protruding brow heard the crying and came running. The woman held out the child. The mother took it. The two looked at each other. Then they parted.

Years accumulated.

New grass grew in places covered by volcanic ash. The ash became fertilizer. Animals that grazed on grass returned. People returned too. But not to the same places as before. The terrain had changed.

A small settlement formed where the lake had appeared. Those who caught fish, those who gathered fruit, those who shaped stone. Those with different skills came together. Different kinds mingled. Children were born. These children's brows differed from either parent.

A mountain pass formed where mountains had collapsed. People began to travel through. Distant groups began to meet each other. Types of stone changed. Ways of making tools spread. New sounds were born. Movements of the tongue joined the growls from deep in throats.

Grasslands formed where forests had vanished. Wind swept across the grasslands. The sound of wind changed. Seeds rode the wind to new places. New trees grew in new locations. New fruit grew beneath the trees. Those who learned the taste of this fruit walked in search of such trees. Their range of movement expanded.

Where sea levels had risen, land grew narrow. One had to pass through narrow paths to reach the other side. Different groups encountered each other more often at these passages. Conflicts increased. But cooperation was also born. When moving heavy stones, what was impossible alone became possible with many.

Change continued. It never stopped.

What had been a river yesterday was dry today. What had been a mountain yesterday became a valley today. One who had been an enemy yesterday sat around the fire today. One who had been alone yesterday held a child today.

Upon this world, countless footprints were carved. Vanished. Carved again. The faces of those leaving footprints gradually changed. The shape of brows, the height of stature, the size of hands.

Yet walking remained unchanged. As did eating, sleeping, opening one's eyes to greet the morning.

It was the moment the earth cracked.

Far in the distance, rock shattered and clods of earth rose into the air. Grass bent and broke, insects took flight in panic.

Elsewhere, a child raised its first cry. The mother's hands trembled.

On the rocky shore where the scent of tide reached, waves struck the rocks at their usual height.

A bird called out. Wind blew.

Time flowed on.

In the frozen highlands, ice grew thicker.

In the plains where grass swayed in wind, herds headed south.

On the rocky shores where the scent of tide reached, shells continued to be washed by waves.

Where the great river met the sea, those with protruding foreheads were catching fish. The short, sturdy ones surrounded fire in caves. The new kind continued their migration.

No one knew anyone else.

But the sky was the same sky. The sun was the same sun. The moon waxed and waned, waxed and waned.

In this era, nothing changed greatly.

Species lived, died, were born again. Stones broke, fires lit, went out. Footprints were carved, rain washed them away, they were carved again.

Only one thing.

The line this one had drawn on wood was still there. Growing fainter, yet certainly.

The first thing in the world intentionally left behind.

Fading, but not faded.

Where the great river meets the sea, those with protruding foreheads split stones. On the rocky shores where the scent of tide reaches, short and sturdy ones chased fish.

The belly rumbled. Mother shared fruit. Sour. A grimace. But still ate.

In the freezing highlands, ice began to melt. On the plains where grass swayed in wind, new shoots pushed through soil. The season changed.

The group moved. Walking. Feet hurt. But walked. To stop meant being left behind.

In the dense forest regions, another group of a new species gathered nuts. Two days' distance from this group. They knew nothing of each other.

Stumbled on a stone. Scraped knee. Blood flowed. Cried. An adult approached. Licked the wound. Salty.

In the scorched sandy lands, no one was there. No water. No living things. Only sand existed.

The sound of water. Ran. A river. Plunged face in and drank. Cold. Belly full.

The sun set, rose, and set again. The moon waxed, waned, and waxed again.

Night came. Cold. Huddled with companions. Warm. Slept. Dreams came. What dreams, unknown. Woke.

In this age, stones continued splitting. Fire continued burning. Water continued flowing.

Turned eight. Grew taller. Voice grew deeper.

Species lived, died, and were born again. Footprints were carved, rain washed them away, and they were carved again.

One companion collapsed. Hot. Breathed with difficulty. Three days later, stopped moving.

Everywhere in the world, the same things happened. Being born. Dying.

Dug a hole. A deep hole. All dug together. Buried in earth. Placed a stone on that spot.

The sky remained the same sky. Clouds drifted, rain fell, and it cleared again.

Nine years old. Became skilled at throwing stones. They flew far. Companions showed admiration.

No one knew anyone, yet still they lived.

Learned to climb trees. Looked from high places. Saw smoke in the distance. Someone was there.

In an unchanging world, small changes accumulated.

Ten years old. Learned that saying "Oo" brought water. Saying "Aa" made heads tilt.

An invisible line extended from this one.

Split stones. Used broken stones to mark trees. Not a straight line. But a line.

That line was the first thing intentionally left behind in the world.

Eleven years old. Became the fastest runner in the group. Could chase beasts.

Fading, but not gone.

A companion was injured. This one searched for medicinal herbs. Which ones worked, unknown. But searched.

Time flowed, seasons cycled, and time flowed again.

Twelve years old. Voice change began. Sometimes, surprisingly deep sounds emerged.

On this world, countless stories proceeded simultaneously.

Body grew larger. Strength increased. Splitting stones became easier.

One of them was this one's story.

When night came, coughing could be heard beginning.

From the group gathering nuts in the forest, the first one fell. Running a fever, breathing shallow, motionless within three days. That same night, the one who had slept beside them also began to cough.

In another group living by the rocky riverbank, the same cough spread. One by one, they fell. No one understood why. Something unseen was taking their companions away.

The small group walking the sandy lands encountered an ancient tribe with protruding brows at a watering place. At first they threw stones at each other. But there was only one source of water. One raised a hand. A hand without stones. The other did the same. The two tribes shared the same water.

In the highland caves, short, sturdy beings sat around a fire. Among them too, some began to cough. But their coughs made different sounds. For each tribe, the sickness took different forms.

At this time, the population of this world decreased from four hundred twenty to two hundred fourteen.

After the invisible calamity passed, those who survived continued to ask. Why were they alone left behind? What had taken their companions?

No one knew the answer. Only the living remained living.

After the calamity passed, the world was wrapped in silence.

In the forest, the trees swayed in the wind as always. But footsteps had grown fewer. Voices had grown fewer. Places where smoke rose had also diminished. Throughout this world, small groups had become even smaller.

Those who survived buried the dead in the earth. They dug deep holes, laid their companions to rest, and piled stones. The old species with protruding foreheads, the short and sturdy ones, the new species—all dug holes in the same way. Returning death to the earth was something every species knew, though none had been taught.

By the rocky riverbank, a group of twelve had become four. They looked into each other's faces and asked with gestures why they had remained. No one could answer. They only shrugged and shook their heads.

For the group walking the sandy earth, the journey to find water continued. A path that eight had once walked was now traveled by three. Fewer footprints. Fewer calls to one another. But they did not stop walking. If they failed to find water, all would die.

The sturdy ones who had gathered around fires in highland caves lost half their companions, then began drawing pictures deep in their caves. They dipped their fingers in mud and drew lines on the rock surface. They did not know what they were drawing, not even those doing the drawing. They simply could not help but draw. They wanted to leave something of their vanished companions on the rock.

Elsewhere, survivors formed new groups among themselves. Strangers who met each other offered hands instead of throwing stones. The calamity had taught them they could not survive alone. Living was more important than the differences between species.

Deep in the forest, one remained alone. Everyone in the group had fallen, and only one survived at the end. This one sat at the base of a tree and did not move for days. Did not go searching for food. Simply sat.

But on the morning of the fourth day, this one stood up. The stomach growled. The throat was parched. The body demanded to live. Even alone, the one began to walk.

The calamity had passed, but its memory remained. That invisible things could take companions. That there existed deaths without reason. That one could not know if tomorrow would bring life.

Along with fear, something else was born. The survivors began to treasure others more than before. They shared water, shared food, and slept huddled together at night. When they knew death was close at hand, the warmth of the living became precious.

The population of this world continued to decline from two hundred fourteen. But it did not disappear entirely. Somewhere, always, someone was alive.

The great water came again.

The sea crossed the shore as if in rage, every river overflowed, swallowing all the low-lying land. This was a different kind of disaster from before. Not invisible sickness, but visible water. They should have been able to flee, yet the water was faster.

In the scorching sandy lands, muddy torrents poured into valleys that usually held no water, accompanied by thunderous roars. Of the six who had been sleeping there, only three managed to escape to the high rocks. The remaining three were swept away. Trembling on the rocks, the three waited two days for the water to recede.

Near the mouth of the great river, the water level rose to three times its usual height. The mixed group living there—those with protruding foreheads and the new kind living together—all evacuated to the hills. But when they returned, their dwelling had vanished without a trace. The stone enclosures, the animal hides they had been drying, the nuts they had stored. Everything had flowed away with the mud.

Deep in the forest, the usually quiet stream became a raging torrent, toppling trees as it flowed. The short, sturdy one who lived there alone climbed a tree to escape harm. For three days and nights, rain beat down while up in the tree. After the water receded, the one climbed down and walked around. Every familiar place had changed. The river's flow had changed, and the well-worn paths had disappeared.

In the highland cave clusters, water damage was minimal. But the sound of water cascading down from the mountains echoed many times louder than usual. Those in the caves huddled together, listening to that sound. They lacked the courage to go out and see what was happening outside.

In the distant grasslands, several large ponds appeared on land that was usually dry—ponds unlike any they had ever seen. The group moving through there was confused by the suddenly appearing water. No one knew whether it was safe to drink, or even safe to touch.

On the rocky shores where the scent of tide reached, waves stronger than usual washed over the rocks. Those who had been gathering shellfish there nearly had their feet swept away by the waves and fled inland in panic. The usually safe rocky shore had bared its watery fangs and attacked.

After the water departed, the survivors confirmed their numbers once more. Every group had lost someone. But this time, there was a different kind of sorrow from the sickness. The bodies of those swept away by water could not be found. They could not dig holes to return them to the earth. They could only remember their swept-away companions each time they heard the sound of water.

The population of this world became one hundred and eighty-two.