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I thought the honey badger must have weighed 45 pounds, though less excitable members of the party put its weight at closer to 36 or Whichever it was, the creature was enormous. The discussion then shifted to how big a tip to leave for Kevin, for he had certainly earned one. As I write this final entry in my safari diary, I am still trembling with the excitement that can only come from encountering big game in the wild.
Prior to this afternoon, I had some doubts about the safari—I felt it was overpriced, or that perhaps my expectations had been too high—but now I know that it was worth every penny, and I have a feeling that I am leaving some part of me behind here, and that I will never be truly content until I return to this last bastion of the wilderness.
The camp was abuzz with excitement. Just when we were sure that there were no more treasures to unearth, the Stardust Twins had found three small pieces of bone, attached together with a wire—obviously a human artifact. I must rest and regain my strength. We let the Moriteu go about brushing and cleaning the artifact, while we speculated on why a primitive fetish should exist in the starfaring age. Finally the Exobiologist got to her feet. After all, it is an enormous area.
It was nearing the end of the day, and no one volunteered, and finally the Exobiologist turned and began walking toward the path that led down into the depths of Olduvai Gorge. It was dark when I finally felt strong enough to assimilate the jewelry. I spread my essence about the bones and the wire and soon became one with them….
His name was Joseph Meromo, and he could live with the money but not the guilt. It had begun with the communication from Brussels, and the veiled suggestion from the head of the multi-national conglomerate headquartered there. They had a certain commodity to get rid of. They had no place to get rid of it. Could Tanzania help? Meromo had told them he would look into it, but he doubted that his government could be of use.
Just try, came the reply. In fact, more than the reply came. The next day a private courier delivered a huge wad of large-denomination bills, with a polite note thanking Meromo for his efforts on their behalf. And not even for helping them, but merely for being willing to explore possibilities. Well, he had thought, why not? What could they conceivably have? A couple of containers of toxic waste?
A few plutonium rods? You bury them deep enough in the earth and no one would ever know or care. Of course, there was the Denver Disaster, and that little accident that made the Thames undrinkable for almost a century, but the only reason they popped so quickly to mind is because they were the exceptions, not the rule.
Meromo had his computer cast a holographic map of Tanzania above his desk. He looked at it, frowned, added topographical features, then began studying it in earnest. If he decided to help them dump the stuff, whatever it was—and he told himself that he was still uncommitted—where would be the best place to dispose of it? Off the coast? No, the fishermen would pull it up two minutes later, take it to the press, and raise enough hell to get him fired, and possibly even cause the rest of the government to resign.
The Selous Province? Maybe five centuries ago, when it was the last wilderness on the continent, but not now, not with a thriving, semi-autonomous city-state of fifty-two million people where once there had been nothing but elephants and almost-impenetrable thorn bush.
Lake Victoria? Same problem with the fishermen. Dar es Salaam? It was a possibility. Close enough to the coast to make transport easy, practically deserted since Dodoma had become the new capital of the country. He stopped and stared at Olduvai, then called up all available data.
Almost a mile deep. That was in its favor. No animals left. Better still. No settlements on its steep slopes. Only a handful of Maasai still living in the area, no more than two dozen families, and they were too arrogant to pay any attention to what the government was doing.
Of that Meromo was sure: he himself was a Maasai. So he strung it out for as long as he could, collected cash gifts for almost two years, and finally gave them a delivery date. Meromo stared out the window of his 34th floor office, past the bustling city of Dodoma, off to the east, to where he imagined Olduvai Gorge was. It had seemed so simple.
Yes, he was paid a lot of money, a disproportionate amount—but these multi-nationals had money to burn. It was just supposed to be a few dozen plutonium rods, or so he had thought. How was he to know that they were speaking of forty-two tons of nuclear waste?
There was no returning the money. Even if he wanted to, he could hardly expect them to come back and pull all that deadly material back out of the ground. Probably it was safe, probably no one would ever know…. But it haunted his days, and even worse, it began haunting his nights as well, appearing in various guises in his dreams. Sometimes it was as carefully-sealed containers, sometimes it was as ticking bombs, sometimes a disaster had already occurred and all he could see were the charred bodies of Maasai children spread across the lip of the gorge.
For almost eight months he fought his devils alone, but eventually he realized that he must have help. The dreams not only haunted him at night, but invaded the day as well. He would be sitting at a staff meeting, and suddenly he would imagine he was sitting among the emaciated, sore-covered bodies of the Olduvai Maasai. He would be reading a book, and the words seemed to change and he would be reading that Joseph Meromo had been sentenced to death for his greed.
He would watch a holo of the Titanic disaster, and suddenly he was viewing some variation of the Olduvai Disaster. Finally he went to a psychiatrist, and because he was a Maasai, he choose a Maasai psychiatrist.
He rummaged through his desk and came up with a small white card. The psychiatrist shook his head. Just keep the card on your person. He will know you require his services. Two weeks later, as he was drinking at a bar, putting off going home to sleep as long as he could, a small woman approached him. Meromo fell into step behind her, at least as much to avoid going home as from any belief that this mysterious man with no first name could help him.
They went out to the street, turned left, walked in silence for three blocks, and turned right, coming to a halt at the front door to a steel-and-glass skyscraper. She shook her head. Meromo looked up at the top of the building.
It seemed residential. He considered his options, finally shrugged, and walk into the lobby. It was not a question. Meromo did as he was told. The elevator was paneled with an oiled wood, and smelled fresh and sweet.
It operated on voice command and quickly took him to the 63rd floor. When he emerged he found himself in an elegantly-decorated corridor, with ebony wainscoting and discreetly-placed mirrors. He walked past three unmarked doors, wondering how he was supposed to know which apartment belonged to Mulewo, and finally came to one that was partially open.
Meromo opened the door the rest of the way, stepped into the apartment, and blinked. Sitting on a torn rug was an old man, wearing nothing but a red cloth gathered at the shoulder. The walls were covered by reed matting, and a noxious-smelling caldron bubbled in the fireplace. A torch provided the only illumination. I know what lies buried at the bottom of Olduvai Gorge.
Meromo shut the door quickly. I have peered into your dreams, and sifted through them until I found the truth. Come sit. Meromo walked to where the old man indicated and sat down carefully, trying not to get too much dirt on his freshly-pressed outfit. The old man nodded. I am here only to help the Maasai. Mulewo shook his head. I cannot even assuage your guilt, for it is a just guilt.
All I can do is banish it from your dreams. There was an uneasy silence. I must have a tribute. Meromo stared at the old laibon for a long minute, then got up and left without another word.
Finally he found what he was looking for, charged it to his personal account, and took it home with him. Meromo laid the package down in front of the old man. It was made of small bones that had been strung together. Then, tomorrow, you must go to Olduvai Gorge and throw it down to the bottom, so that the visions may lay side by side with the reality. Meromo went back to his apartment, donned the necklace, and went to sleep. That night his dreams were worse than they had ever been before.
In the morning he put the necklace into a pocket and had a government plane fly him to Arusha. From there he rented a ground vehicle, and two hours later he was standing on the edge of the gorge. There was no sign of the buried material. He took the necklace in his hand and hurled it far out over the lip of the gorge.
His nightmares vanished that night. One hundred miles away, the ground shifted on the floor of Olduvai Gorge, and three of the lead-lined containers broke open. I had examined the necklace in my own quarters, and when I came out to report my findings, I discovered that the entire camp was in a tumultuous state.
It is now morning, and she has not returned or attempted to use her communicator. Bellidore looked at the Mystic and sighed.
In truth, I do not understand her function. At any rate, I do not know how to communicate with her. The Stardust Twins kicked at the earth together, sending up a pair of reddish dust clouds.
We will leave tomorrow, and I want all of our major finds examined by then. It is my job to find the Exobiologist; it is yours to read the history of the last artifact. He led me to a table where the Historian and the Appraiser had been examining it. I paused above the cartridge while they began backing away. And with that, they raced off to hide behind some of the camp structures. With your permission, I would like to stay and observe. Thomas Naikosiai looked across the table at his wife.
He stood up and walked to the closet. He reached deep into the closet and grabbed the rifle that leaned up against the back wall, then closed the closet, walked through the airlock and emerged on the front porch.
Six men, all wearing protective clothing and masks to filter the air, confronted him. This is my home. I will not leave it. Naikosiai shook his head. You may run from danger, if you wish; I will stay and fight it. How can you fight air that is no longer safe to breathe?
Do not demand that I leave. How much longer can she breathe the air? An older man stepped forward. Nor will I let my grandchildren remain here. The old man took another step toward the porch, and suddenly the rifle was pointing at him.
Maasai never surrender. I am the last Maasai. How can you not surrender to a world that is no longer safe for people to live on? Come with us to New Kilimanjaro. The last ship leaves tomorrow morning. They will be on it. The six men whispered among themselves, and then their leader looked up at Naikosiai.
They all turned to go, but the old man stopped and turned to Naikosiai. Naikosiai gestured with his rifle. The old man turned and walked off with the others, and Naikosiai went back into his house through the airlock. The tile floor smelled of disinfectant, and the sight of the television set offended his eyes, as always. His wife was waiting for him in the kitchen, amid the dozens of gadgets she had purchased over the years.
The animals have all died. You cannot even breathe the air without a filtering mask. Why do you insist on staying? We will not leave it. I am not afraid to meet my creator.
It is a beautiful world, green and gold and filled with rivers and lakes. They will ruin the next one. Her expression softened. With one exception. The Republic still comes and goes as it pleases, taking what it wants, conscripting men, and extorting taxes, even though the Frontier worlds receive nothing in exchange. And, of course, the government still wants Wilson Cole and the starship Theodore Roosevelt.
He has no interest in confronting such an overwhelming force, and constantly steers clear of them. Then an incident occurs that changes everything, and Cole declares war on the Republic. Outnumbered and always outgunned, his fleet is no match for the Republic's millions of military vessels, even after he forges alliances with the warlords he previously hunted down.
It's a hopeless cause I am tempted to say that is a bit too much for a novella, but I shan't. I was drawn to this book for its title, which, in a sleepy haze, I had misread as Seven Views of Olduvai George. Suffice to say, I had, to my eternal shame, not made the obvious connection to the Leakeys.
Nevertheless, I had no reason to regret my choice, as the novella made for an engaging and educational read. I heard great things about this novella--it won awards in the science fiction community, for example--so I was on the lookout for a copy of it when I was at the World Science Fiction convention, held in my hometown this year. While reading Mike Resnick's novella, I was reminded of the cine I heard great things about this novella--it won awards in the science fiction community, for example--so I was on the lookout for a copy of it when I was at the World Science Fiction convention, held in my hometown this year.
While reading Mike Resnick's novella, I was reminded of the cinematic masterpiece A Space Odyssey, for both works are science fiction on the cosmic scale and both attempt to say profound things about human existence. The human race expanded among the stars, ruling a cruel Empire over the intelligent beings of other worlds. The human race then went extinct, and some millennia after humankind's extinction, aliens researchers from various worlds investigate Olduvai Gorge, to learn more about this terrible, yet remarkable species.
One of the alien researchers has a scrying-like power, that is, obtaining visions of the past from handling artifacts. Each artifact this alien handles comes from a different period in the human race, and this forms the basis for several mini-stories in this novella.
Most of these mini-stories show humanity in an unflattering light, the violence and cold unconcern that humans are capable of. An acclaimed sci-fi novella about a group of extraterrestrials doing archeology work in the Olduvai Gorge Tanzania seven millennia after the extinction of the human race? Hell yeah! I couldn't contain my excitement when I first heard about Seven Views of Olduvai Gorge - Firstly because I love throught-provoking sci-fi that explores the History of the human race from the POV of aliens, and also because it is set in Tanzania, one of the most fascinating and historically rich countries in Africa.
He is able to alter his structure and make his body flow around objects to be "part of them" and explore their history. Artifact after artifact, we learn many things about the lives of a few human beings throughout history.
The concept is fine and the execution interesting. But I honestly think this would have worked a lot better as a full-length novel. I felt like the author did not explore the idea to its full extent, leaving many gaps in the story and an ending that is so frustrating, it somehow ruins the experience.
This could have been so much better! If that sounds rather ambitious, it is! But the book is so well written, that you keep turning the pages. Each story does feed into the next one, and answers a lot of questions while not answering so many more. Yet, you do get context, and you can feel the history of that sacred place as the stories evolve. Beautifully done! No wonder this story won awards. It's essentially the distillation of Resnick's long list of Africa-centric fiction into a tale of Earth, set in the putative starting-place of man, and telling in a series of six vignettes, of the long rise of man in the universe.
Not the best views of man, though, but snapshots of malevolence in a path of viciousness, murder and cannibalism, slavery and rebellion, greed and cruelty that sees a future Earth empty perhaps of all man's achievements. Even so, the t No wonder this story won awards. Even so, the tale is told by a research mission, aliens come to Earth to view the birthplace of mythical Man, who had conquered and plundered the galaxy in the same way he did in the vicinity of the Olduvai Gorge before his extinction.
You may not agree with the arc of this tale, or even of the story told by Resnick's entire Out-of-Africa oeuvre. But it's hard to ignore the stellar purity and power of the way he tells it. This homage to the classic sci-fi of the 50s and 60s would fit perfectly into an episode of Rod Serling's Twilight Zone.
Humanity has swarmed from earth, conquered the galaxy, and died out. A team of alien scientists comes to the birthplace of man to better understand the ancient masters of the universe. What they find is intriguing, revolting, and ultimately terrifying. A team of alien anthropologists are at the alleged birthplace of Man, Africa's Olduvai Gorge, to study the extinct species.
By "assimilating" artifacts, one of the aliens is able to relive events associated with that item. Different items, arranged in chronological order, give insight into humanity and its demise. Amazingly simple concept, an alien species lands at the cradle of humanity, the Olduvai gorge.
ONe of the aliens has the ability to relive experiences by simply touching objects. We relive the experience of the downfall of humanity via these 7 objects. Awesome concept and execution, I ate this up. Aug 05, Boydsy rated it it was amazing. A history of the human race in 48 pages.
Resnick tells the story from the view of space travelers who visit, to some, is the origin of Man. And it doesn't end there. Aug 21, Dan Chancellor rated it really liked it Shelves: audible , read. A dark and disturbing view of humanity's history Seven Views of Olduvai Gorge posits a distant future in which Man is long extinct. Having arisen as a deceptively small and to all appearances harmless bipedal ancestor of the earliest pro-simian species, Man evolved into a violent and powerful predator who was master of his planet.
Technological advancements allowed Man to travel to the stars colonizing a million planets and enslaving or eliminating all those he met who posed any threat, real or i A dark and disturbing view of humanity's history Seven Views of Olduvai Gorge posits a distant future in which Man is long extinct.
Technological advancements allowed Man to travel to the stars colonizing a million planets and enslaving or eliminating all those he met who posed any threat, real or imagined. Notwithstanding his powerful position astride the top of the galactic food chain, as it were, mankind has slipped into extinction. Five millennia after the last known representative of our species died, an alien planet has sent a scientific archeological team to earth to study man's rise and fall by a careful examination of the artifacts they find in the location now known as the birthplace of our species - Olduvai Gorge.
Seven Views of Olduvai Gorge is a series of seven short stories commenting on man's violent and aggressive nature ranging in time from our earliest pre-history as a species that could hardly be graced even with the term "caveman" to a hypothesized galactic superpower with technological skills that included interstellar travel and domination of a million other planets.
The stories are all told by "He Who Sees" , a member of the alien archeological team who has the uncanny ability to see, hear, feel and completely experience the history of an artifact by subsuming it into his own body and absorbing its history into his mentality.
This collection of stories, which won the Nebula Award for best novella, portray a bleak, dismal and disappointed view of an aggressive, violent and self-centered humanity.
Perhaps the most disappointing thing of all about this fine book is that, as a reader of the book and a member of the race under discussion, I can find no reason to dispute Michael Resnick's hard-hearted view of our history. It would be most unfair to disclose the point of the final story to a potential reader.
But, suffice it to say, although Michael Resnick's cynicism remains obvious at the close of his novel, it is just possible - barely - that we could make something of ourselves if we had another chance.
Seven Views of Olduvai Gorge is short, sweet and compellingly powerful. Highly recommended. Paul Weiss As an author, as well as a lover of Science Fiction and Speculative Fiction, I was excited to read this novella.
I will admit I was curious to see what the seven views would be, what action he wanted mankind to take to keep his prophecy of global, environmental destruction from happening. I was curious what artifacts he would present, what meaning he would attach to them. He did well with his As an author, as well as a lover of Science Fiction and Speculative Fiction, I was excited to read this novella.
He did well with his hooks. For while I am not a subscriber to his view of our future, his hooks kept me reading on to see what he would say. However, in the reading, I was greatly disappointed. I wondered how it was the recipient of so many awards. There were many holes in the logical world of the story. The presence of primitive bipeds that were not connected with the humans they were studying was an obvious one.
The colonization assessment scientists from the first artifact blithely wandering among the native species with no regard to their own protection, no thought of aggressive behavior in spite of strong evidence.
I even question, if man is such a survivor, having colonized and conquered the known universe, how it is there were not pockets of humanity that live on in spite of whatever cataclysmic even wiped out the bulk of humanity?
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