The curator stands next to a tall glass case filled with a dark liquid and pauses a moment, before flipping a switch to illuminate the creature inside it.
The visitors recoil in shock at its bare flesh, piercing eyes and white teeth.
“I present to you our predecessor: homo sapiens.”
Daniel doesn’t visit museums much these days.
“Morning, class. Today, it will be your first course in evolutionary biology. You’ll learn about natural selection and the purpose behind it. As an example, we’ll focus on the importance behind choosing intelligence over stupidity to favor humanity’s survival. Any questions?”
“Why are there trapdoors under our desks?”
George S. Karagiannis was born in Thessaloniki, Greece, and is currently a PhD student at the University of Toronto in Canada. He enjoys writing science-fiction (in a non-professional capacity, so far) in the subgenres of hard science fiction, bizarro, and apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic settings.
For the Dying Race, there is no place,
In worlds of field or forest
For that breed, there is no need
There is no hope of trying.
Yet hope remains, that hope’s campaigns
Will break those chains
And overcome reigns
Of races better fit.
Do not outsource.
Stay the course.
Bobby Langhorne is a programmer and a wishful storyteller.
I found that out for certain the day I met a Tyrannosaurus X.
He had weak eyes, massive jaws, and stubby little arms.
He was cold-blooded. Scaly-skinned. Exclusively carnivorous.
I was intrigued. I asked for a blood sample. He roared.
He was the missing link, the old fossil.
This story was based on a title suggested by @Tally_LRR.
“Did you know,” droned the lecturer, “that until a few short centuries ago, the human body was made of sixty percent water rather than sixty percent weaponry?”
“Weird,” commented a student, holding up one shotgun arm and flexing his finger-pistols. “Makes you wonder how they survived long enough to evolve.”