2001_ A Space Odyssey - Arthur C. Clarke [8]
Perhaps, given time, they might by their own efforts have come to the awesome and brilliant concept of using natural weapons as artificial tools. But the odds were all against them, and even now there were endless opportunities for failure in the ages that lay ahead.
The man-apes had been given their first chance. There would be no second one; the future was, very literally, in their own hands.
Moons waxed and waned; babies were born and sometimes lived; feeble, toothless thirty-year-olds died; the leopard took its toll in the night; the Others threatened daily across the river — and the tribe prospered. In the course of a single year, Moon-Watcher and his companions had changed almost beyond recognition.
They had learned their lessons well; now they could handle all the tools that had been revealed to them. The very memory of hunger was fading from their minds; and though the warthogs were becoming shy, there were gazelles and antelopes and zebras in countless thousands on the plains. All these animals, and others, had fallen prey to the apprentice hunters.
Now that they were no longer half-numbed with starvation, they had time both for leisure and for the first rudiments of thought. Their new way of life was now casually accepted, and they did not associate it in any way with the monolith still standing beside the trail to the river. If they had ever stopped to consider the matter, they might have boasted that they had brought about their improved status by their own efforts; in fact, they had already forgotten any other mode of existence.
But no Utopia is perfect, and this one had two blemishes. The first was the marauding leopard, whose passion for man-apes seemed to have grown even stronger now that they were better nourished. The second was the tribe across the river; for somehow the Others had survived, and had stubbornly refused to die of starvation.
The leopard problem was resolved partly by chance, partly owing to a serious — indeed almost fatal — error on Moon-Watcher’s part. Yet at the time his idea had seemed such a brilliant one that he had danced with joy, and perhaps he could hardly be blamed for overlooking the consequences.
The tribe still experienced occasional bad days, though these no longer threatened its very survival. Toward dusk, it had failed to make a kill; the home caves were already in sight as Moon-Watcher led his tired and disgruntled companions back to shelter. And there, on their very threshold, they found one of nature’s rare bonanzas.
A full-grown antelope was lying by the trail. Its foreleg was broken, but it still had plenty of fight in it, and the circling jackals gave its daggerlike horns a respectful berth. They could afford to wait; they knew that they had only to bide their time.
But they had forgotten about the competition, and retreated with angry snarls when the man-apes arrived. They too circled warily, keeping beyond the range of those dangerous horns; then they moved to the attack with clubs and stones.
It was not a very effective or coordinated attack, by the time the wretched beast had been given its quietus the light had almost gone — and the jackals were regaining their courage. Moon-Watcher, torn between fear and hunger, slowly realized that all this effort might have been in vain. It was too dangerous to stay here any longer.
Then, not for the first or the last time, he proved himself a genius. With an immense effort of imagination, he visualized the dead antelope — in the safety of his own cave. He began to drag it toward the cliff face; presently, the others understood his intentions, and began to help him.
If he had known how difficult the task would be, he would never have attempted it. Only his great strength, and the agility inherited from his arboreal ancestors, allowed him to haul the carcass up the steep slope. Several times, weeping with frustration, he almost