Me: Thanks for joining me for this the Weekly Post-Ed interview. We have a special guest–the last Neanderthal has joined us for a Q&A session about what it was like to go extinct. Before we get started, I thought we’d start with some small talk. Just to warm up. When did you get up this morning?
Neanderthal: Unk Boong bira pocta…
Me: Wait, I think the translation converter isn’t turned on. Could we make sure it’s up and running, please? Ok, great. Mr. Neanderthal, can try that one more time…
Neanderthal: It’s eating my head! Why are you just sitting there?? It’s eating my ears!
Me: Those are headphones. It isn’t alive, or eating you. It’s the reason you can hear me. Take them off and see.
Neanderthal: (Observing headphones) I thought I was falling for the same tricks lions pull on my people. “Just let me lick your face, it could use a washing,” and that’s when they chew it to bits, dirtier than it was before! Not falling for that again…
Me: You can understand lions?
Neanderthal: I am all alone! The voice-man is gone!
Me: You have to put on the headphones again.
Neanderthal: Ok, got it. Sapiens allow mouths on their heads. Very brave.
Me: Do you have a name? What do your people call you?
Neanderthal: I don’t know—they mostly yell.
Me: What do they yell?
Neanderthal: To stay awake during my turn to keep watch at night. Or not to pee so close to the cave. Or, don’t touch Sheila.
Me: Who is Sheila? Someone’s wife?
Neanderthal: Not sure. None are allowed to talk about Sheila or we get beaten with sticks by Nate. He hits hard. But still—worth it because Sheila smiles with yellow teeth.
Me: None of this sounds historically accurate.
Neanderthal: If you don’t believe me, then why did you ask me to do this interview?
Me: Look, I don’t know how to tell you this, but homo sapiens killed your entire species. The whole reason I brought you here is because I don’t know how to process that. How can species want to kill the thing that was closest to them? When I read about the genecide of your species, I felt profoundly sad, like there was a piece of my soul that will never come back. It felt like something tucked away in the fabric of time that will forever be hidden and forgotten.
Neanderthal: Are you ok?
Me: I don’t think so. I’ve been thinking about this for the past week. To me, this prehistoric need to exterminate other human species to be the dominant creature on earth explains so much. Racism, sexism, a continued worshipping of patriarchy and “survival of the fittest”. You don’t know much about modern history, but this need to marginalize anything “different” than what the main tribe ascribes to is constantly punished by homo sapiens. Weak immune systems, cognitive difficulties such as depression and anxiety, and even physical limitations like being handicapped means being pushed aside by society.
Neanderthal: I don’t think I’m qualified to comment on—
Me: No, probably not. But you’re dead. And gone. And there’s no coming back for you.
Neanderthal: So, I don’t exist? I just exist for this pretend Q&A?
Me: Yes.
Neanderthal: Which means I don’t even get to keep the complimentary T-shirt.
Me: There never was one.
Neanderthal: Son of bitch. Ok, since you don’t know what it’s like to be pursued and slaughtered by another of your species, I’m guessing you’re sad for some self-righteous, sulking purpose.
Me: Hey, it’s not that simple—
Neanderthal: It’s not? Who do you feel most sorry for: My species that was killed and buried to the sands of time, or your own feelings on the matter? My people don’t need your pity, or your museums to encase our bones. What could have been done is over with, so what’s the real issue here? I bet you have a hard time processing loss.
Me: (Struggles to answer) Well, maybe…I don’t know…
Neanderthal: Do you think of the dead? Old relationships? Opportunities lost? Lives that might have been lived but haven’t been?
Me: (No answer)
Neanderthal: Survival of the fittest, they say. (Shakes head disapprovingly) I’m not sure my species is missing out on anything if you’re a typical homo sapien.
Me: Ok, if you’re so wise, how should I feel?
Neanderthal: You’re asking an extinct species for advice? (Laughs) Anything I could say is advice not to follow; my entire species is dead! By definition, anything I could offer would steer you wrong. My only advice is don’t ask those who can no longer give it.
Me: That’s actually pretty profound…
Neanderthal: I don’t have advice. It’s the burden of the living to find a way forward. Living is your problem.
Me: (Nods)
Neanderthal: Get over it. And stop bringing up the dead to solve your stupid problems.
Me: Noted.
Neanderthal: I really don’t get a T-shirt?
Me: I mean, I didn’t have one made or anything. But since this is my imagination, I can send you off with one.
Neanderthal: I accept. I’ve never worn a t-shirt; they look comfortable.
Me: Depends on the brand, but yeah, they are.
Neanderthal: Great. Now, snap a selfie on the magical box and let me be at peace.
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Wishing everyone as well as you can be. You’re not alone out there,
