Before Adam Page #18

"Before Adam" by Jack London, published in 1907, is a unique blend of science fiction, evolutionary theory, and adventure. It explores the idea of genetic memory through a narrator who experiences vivid dreams of a prehistoric past.

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climber than Lop-Ear or I. When we played tag we could never catch her
except by accident, while she could catch us at will. She was
remarkably swift in all her movements, and she had a genius for judging
distances that was equalled only by her daring. Excessively timid in
all other matters, she was without fear when it came to climbing or
running through the trees, and Lop-Ear and I were awkward and lumbering
and cowardly in comparison.

She was an orphan. We never saw her with any one, and there was no
telling how long she had lived alone in the world. She must have
learned early in her helpless childhood that safety lay only in flight.
She was very wise and very discreet. It became a sort of game with
Lop-Ear and me to try to find where she lived. It was certain that she
had a tree-shelter somewhere, and not very far away; but trail her as
we would, we could never find it. She was willing enough to join with
us at play in the day-time, but the secret of her abiding-place she
guarded jealously.




CHAPTER XI


It must be remembered that the description I have just given of the
Swift One is not the description that would have been given by
Big-Tooth, my other self of my dreams, my prehistoric ancestor. It is
by the medium of my dreams that I, the modern man, look through the
eyes of Big-Tooth and see.

And so it is with much that I narrate of the events of that far-off
time. There is a duality about my impressions that is too confusing to
inflict upon my readers. I shall merely pause here in my narrative to
indicate this duality, this perplexing mixing of personality. It is I,
the modern, who look back across the centuries and weigh and analyze
the emotions and motives of Big-Tooth, my other self. He did not bother
to weigh and analyze. He was simplicity itself. He just lived events,
without ever pondering why he lived them in his particular and often
erratic way.

As I, my real self, grew older, I entered more and more into the
substance of my dreams. One may dream, and even in the midst of the
dream be aware that he is dreaming, and if the dream be bad, comfort
himself with the thought that it is only a dream. This is a common
experience with all of us. And so it was that I, the modern, often
entered into my dreaming, and in the consequent strange dual
personality was both actor and spectator. And right often have I, the
modern, been perturbed and vexed by the foolishness, illogic,
obtuseness, and general all-round stupendous stupidity of myself, the
primitive.

And one thing more, before I end this digression. Have you ever dreamed
that you dreamed? Dogs dream, horses dream, all animals dream. In
Big-Tooth’s day the half-men dreamed, and when the dreams were bad they
howled in their sleep. Now I, the modern, have lain down with Big-Tooth
and dreamed his dreams.

This is getting almost beyond the grip of the intellect, I know; but I
do know that I have done this thing. And let me tell you that the
flying and crawling dreams of Big-Tooth were as vivid to him as the
falling-through-space dream is to you.

For Big-Tooth also had an other-self, and when he slept that other-self
dreamed back into the past, back to the winged reptiles and the clash
and the onset of dragons, and beyond that to the scurrying, rodent-like
life of the tiny mammals, and far remoter still, to the shore-slime of
the primeval sea. I cannot, I dare not, say more. It is all too vague
and complicated and awful. I can only hint of those vast and terrific
vistas through which I have peered hazily at the progression of life,
not upward from the ape to man, but upward from the worm.

And now to return to my tale. I, Big-Tooth, knew not the Swift One as a
creature of finer facial and bodily symmetry, with long-lashed eyes and
a bridge to her nose and down-opening nostrils that made toward beauty.
I knew her only as the mild-eyed young female who made soft sounds and
did not fight. I liked to play with her, I knew not why, to seek food
in her company, and to go bird-nesting with her. And I must confess she
taught me things about tree-climbing. She was very wise, very strong,
and no clinging skirts impeded her movements.

It was about this time that a slight defection arose on the part of
Lop-Ear. He got into the habit of wandering off in the direction of the
tree where my mother lived. He had taken a liking to my vicious sister,
and the Chatterer had come to tolerate him. Also, there were several
other young people, progeny of the monogamic couples that lived in the
neighborhood, and Lop-Ear played with these young people.

I could never get the Swift One to join with them. Whenever I visited
them she dropped behind and disappeared. I remember once making a
strong effort to persuade her. But she cast backward, anxious glances,
then retreated, calling to me from a tree. So it was that I did not
make a practice of accompanying Lop-Ear when he went to visit his new
friends. The Swift One and I were good comrades, but, try as I would, I
could never find her tree-shelter. Undoubtedly, had nothing happened,
we would have soon mated, for our liking was mutual; but the something
did happen.

One morning, the Swift One not having put in an appearance, Lop-Ear and
I were down at the mouth of the slough playing on the logs. We had
scarcely got out on the water, when we were startled by a roar of rage.
It was Red-Eye. He was crouching on the edge of the timber jam and
glowering his hatred at us. We were badly frightened, for here was no
narrow-mouthed cave for refuge. But the twenty feet of water that
intervened gave us temporary safety, and we plucked up courage.

Red-Eye stood up erect and began beating his hairy chest with his fist.
Our two logs were side by side, and we sat on them and laughed at him.
At first our laughter was half-hearted, tinged with fear, but as we
became convinced of his impotence we waxed uproarious. He raged and
raged at us, and ground his teeth in helpless fury. And in our fancied
security we mocked and mocked him. We were ever short-sighted, we Folk.

Red-Eye abruptly ceased his breast-beating and tooth-grinding, and ran
across the timber-jam to the shore. And just as abruptly our merriment
gave way to consternation. It was not Red-Eye’s way to forego revenge
so easily. We waited in fear and trembling for whatever was to happen.
It never struck us to paddle away. He came back with great leaps across
the jam, one huge hand filled with round, water-washed pebbles. I am
glad that he was unable to find larger missiles, say stones weighing
two or three pounds, for we were no more than a score of feet away, and
he surely would have killed us.

As it was, we were in no small danger. Zip! A tiny pebble whirred past
with the force almost of a bullet. Lop-Ear and I began paddling
frantically. Whiz-zip-bang! Lop-Ear screamed with sudden anguish. The

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