Episode 1 - Progress for Survival (2)
Bringing the antelope we'd hunted with the bola back to our nest immediately caused an uproar.
"Leader! Best!"
"How?! How did you do it!?"
"Awesome! Mate with me!"
What was that last one? I shoved away the female flashing her rear at me and gathered the entire group in one spot.
Sure enough, a few impatient young males reached out first, but the older males smacked their hands away to stop them. It was always the elder adults who taught the importance of hierarchy.
"In front of me. Gather."
I shouted that, and though they looked confused, they naturally began lining up in front of me.
This antelope wasn't that big. I was around 150 cm tall now, and it was just a bit larger than me. With fifty of us here, if we ate like before—without thinking—some might not even get a taste.
So the method I'd come up with was simple: distribution.
Our group's old rule was straightforward. The alpha got the brain. High-ranking elders got the organs. Females and young got the meat. The lowest got whatever marrow they could scrape from the leftover bones.
But in our current situation, that inefficient system would just leave us all starving.
The silver lining was that my stone tools—sharper and more pointed than the others'—could at least cut the meat fairly precisely.
I sliced open the carcass's belly, extracted a portion of the liver, and handed it to the waiting old male. He stared blankly at it for a moment before nodding in understanding and stepping out of line.
The others' eyes shook all at once at the sight. Especially the young males at the back—they openly showed their displeasure. They knew this meant their shares would shrink.
I ignored them and picked up my tool again. Liver first, then the heart. I gave that to the next waiting elder, who took it without a word and left.
"Next, young and females."
No sooner had I said it than one young male lunged forward in protest.
"Females low rank! Why first!"
Yeah, that reaction was inevitable. For them, strength meant rank, and rank meant eating order. The idea of "give to those who need it first" was not just alien—it was offensive.
I slowly stood, stone tool in hand, deliberately raising the bloodied blade.
The murmurs died instantly.
"Quiet."
My low, curt command made one young male flinch. I nudged the carcass with my toe.
"Not much."
I pointed at the ones at the end of the line.
"Eat like before, back gets nothing."
They followed my finger. Elders at the front, females in the middle, young males behind, and at the very end, offspring whose fangs hadn't even grown in yet.
I pointed at the young males again.
"You endure hunger. Offspring can't."
"Then females!"
"Females raise young."
That's why they needed to eat a bit more, until the fear of predators eased and foraging could resume.
The young males grumbled but returned to line. They're not stupid—just never thought this way before.
I crouched again and sliced thigh meat into palm-sized chunks, handing one to the female at the front. She cradled a nursing young in her arms.
At first, everyone was awkward. Recipients stared dumbly at their shares; those waiting eyed my hands anxiously.
But as the process repeated, order emerged. Front takes and steps aside. Next advances. No stealing. Wait, and you get something.
They were learning that simple truth for the first time.
Of course, some stayed resentful to the end. One young male reached for a flank cut while I sliced.
Thwack! I smashed his hand with the tool's handle. He yelped, clutching it.
I glared and growled.
"Wait."
"Uh, ugh..."
"Steal, nothing."
I picked up a small meat chunk in front of him and handed it to another right in his face.
Once distribution ended and everyone ate their shares, I finally took mine.
I cracked the mostly de-meated skull with my tool and scooped out the brain.
Truth be told, I didn't want to eat it. The grayish-white mass looked pretty gross even to me now.
But the brain was the alpha's. No changing that—the elders had blocked me hardest when I tried sharing it.
"That's leader's share. Leader needs good head."
That was why alphas ate brains. No idea how they figured thinking came from the head, but they believed it gave power.
Ugh, weird texture.
The brain was squishy and moist. Chewing it...
"...Not bad."
The texture was like cream cheese—soft, nutty, mild. As I savored that odd mouthfeel and flavor, a memory from Professor Park's old lecture surfaced.
"'In the past, our proto-human ancestors' favorite ingredient was likely the brain.'"
He showed PPT slides of evidence suggesting early humans ate brains.
"Haha, hard to imagine, right? Disgusting even. But excluding water, brains are over 60% pure fat, packed with cholesterol. A burden for modern humans, maybe, but for our ancestors, this soft, high-calorie delicacy was prime survival food."
As he finished, his assistant entered with a strange look and set something on the desk.
"So I brought some. Cow brains are iffy, so canned pig brain. Hard to find, apparently?"
He poured the canned brain into a clear bowl, pulled out disposable spoons, and said,
"Come on up, one by one, give it a try."
That day, we all skipped cafeteria food to recover. Turns out, brains aren't great raw.
'Looking back, that's a fond memory...'
The taste differed from that canned stuff—probably my changed palate and the freshness.
I finished the last bit, then reached for a femur for a rinse, when a young offspring stared at me, finger to its mouth.
Not at me—at the bone in my hand.
I shook it side to side; its eyes followed.
I chuckled, smashed the bone in half with my tool.
Crack. Milky cartilage dangled inside.
"Eat."
It glanced between me and the bone, snatched it, and scurried off to suck marrow.
Licking and sucking at first, then frustrated, it shook the bone wildly.
A nearby old female broke off a twig and showed it how to extract marrow.
Similar scenes unfolded elsewhere.
And I realized: They share and teach knowledge.
I'd noticed when teaching tool-making—they don't heed rank for sharing knowledge. Low-rank tells high-rank about edibles; the group scolds reckless young.
These little things accumulate, evolving them into humanity.
They know knowledge's value, sharing without hesitation, passing it eagerly.
Education happens often in the wild—we study primates with shared ancestors, who teach offspring actively. But that's parent-to-child.
Here, the group shares with all young. Those young pass it to theirs. That's how they survive.
As I pondered, someone approached from behind.
"Leader."
It was the young male who'd given me the spear. I'd named him Caesar. Yeah, from that movie where apes get smart and fight humans.
"What?"
"Leader, I want spin too. Catch meat."
Caesar mimed whirling his right arm.
I knew exactly what he wanted. I pulled the bola from my waist and showed it.
"This?"
He nodded frantically, excited.
"Yes! Spin! Me! Catch meat!"
I considered as he hooted.
Could he handle a bola? Physically equal to me, sure—but mentally? I had modern human intelligence.
Still, trying beat not teaching.
"Follow. Teach make."
"Leader, like this?"
"...Yes."
I stared at the bola he'd wrapped perfectly around the tree trunk and vowed never to underestimate them again.
...Why's he already good?
Caesar bounded off excitedly to retrieve it, hooting wildly.
I watched his back, thinking slowly.
Never underestimate them again.
And one more thing.
...Wait.
I looked at the bola in my hand.
Is he... better at throwing than me?