ISSN 1758-6488
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Henry and His Brother Fiction |
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Henry’s brother has one last thing to add
We adapt. People, I mean. Humans. I like to go to the Field Museum on my lunch break when there’s not so many tourists. Lots of screaming schoolkids, but what are you going to do? If I could go after hours, if I had my own key and could just let myself in late at night, I’d be the happiest guy, really. But that’s what all the signs in the Hall of Evolution say: we evolve, we change, we adapt. We learn to do things that would have been hard to imagine right up until the time we actually do them. Am I making any sense here? It’s like when the Ice Age hits, and suddenly you’ve got to kill a big, hairy elephant with a sharp stick if you ever want to eat again. Or you’ve just walked across Alaska — which is already crazy enough — and then the ocean starts to rise, and you’ve got to figure out how to turn trees into boats so you can get to a place where the weather is warm, and the bushes are full of fruit, and you can all run around all day naked and happy. I tell you, it sounds crazy, but you do it because it’s worth it.
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