Neanderthal Resurgence
I became fascinated with Neanderthal humans ten or twelve years ago, and was trying to concoct an SF story concept around them when I got the idea for The Cunning Blood—and that was the end of that. Recently, cavemen have returned to our cultural consciousness in a big way, thanks to a series of brilliant and sometimes hilarious commercials for insurance company Geico. Several of them are on YouTube, and if you simply don't watch TV and have never seen them (and cripes, I almost never watch TV and yet see them constantly) this is the commercial that put them on the map, and here's the best one. The commercials have become so popular that ABC recently ordered a pilot of a sitcom starring the three Geico cavemen as roomies in modern-day Atlanta. There's no promise that the pilot will graduate to an actual series, but I'm rooting for them. (I haven't watched a TV series regularly since Firefly.)
A catchphrase from the second commercial I cited is already being used as an online scold for people showing a little too much whiny indignation: "Oooh. Sounds like somebody woke up on the wrong side of the rock."
Most people probably still think of Neanderthals as knuckle-dragging brutes, but recent science seems to be pointing in the other direction. Although they were a little shorter than we are, their arms were in the same proportions as ours, and their brain cases were actually significantly larger. Facial reconstruction of a female child from a skull found in Gibraltar shows a girl better looking than some of those I went to grade school with. Evidently the Cro-Magnons thought so too, as we have found evidence of Neanderthal genes in a several Northern European ethnic groups. The bump on the back of my head (called an "occipital bun," as I mentioned a couple of months ago) could be a Neanderthal holdover. More remarkably, we've been able to extract Neanderthal DNA from a particularly well-preserved bone, and at some point we will probably sequence their genome as completely as we have sequenced our own. And most remarkably (and ironically) of all, we may have come upon our supersized brains by borrowing some brain genes from our cave cousins.
If re-creating an extinct species from DNA ever becomes possible (and the barriers still appear to be purely technical) one has to assume that Neanderthals will be high on the list. The question thus arises: Could a Neanderthal human function in modern human society? Much depends on whether or not they had the power of language, something still being debated with the fury of a soccer match. Certainly they had enough gray matter to do it, but we may never have any proof that they did—until we have a Neanderthal child to observe. Matt Ridley, in The Red Queen, argues that we developed our large brains in order to gossip—that is, to categorize large numbers of human relationships (especially sexual relationships) and keep them in a constantly refreshed database. Big brains suggest gossip, and gossip requires language.
Language, however, implies culture, and the problem is that we cannot reconstruct Neanderthal culture from their DNA. A Neanderthal child raised on Sesame Street, and educated at Colorado State University with an IPod in her pocket, would be a bit of a nonesuch. There's a lot of New Age crapola speculating that Neanderthals were telepathic in dangerous ways, which is why we exterminated them. (This is the theme of John Darnton's rather silly novel, Neanderthal.) Telepathy aside, my expectation (and if it ever happens, my hope) is that Neanderthals think in remarkable ways, and might be able to teach us something about how to solve really difficult problems. Colin Wilson suggested in one of his books that ancient humans had a different grasp of mathematics than we have, in that they could envision number lines and planes and even higher dimensions, and perceive values like points on a map rather than logical abstractions. A person with that sort of mind could "see" a number and all its factors, and spot prime numbers without calculation. This suggests a kind of whole-brain consciousness that we lack, rather like Julian Jaynes' "bicameral mind" evolution in reverse. What sort of creature would that be?
I'd want them among my friends. I would certainly want them as my advisors—assuming I could communicate meaningfully with them. I would not want them as my enemies, particularly if they developed an intuitive, whole-brain grip on modern technology. There's a story (or fifty) in there somewhere.
