As I wake up this morning, something strange has happened. My bed is made of soft mud and grass. Quite comfortable though… But this is the least of my worries. The people who talk to me, if you can use the word talk when you hear grunts, do not make any sense… They seem more curious than friendly, they are grossly unkept — men are unshaven and women are, dare I say, ugly… 

I did not mean ugly, really. I mean they are not lookers like Hollywood stars, and one can hardly make a difference if their armpits are hairy or the bear fur — it looks like bear fur I’d say — is a tight fit under their arms. Eyebrows are definitively non-plucked. Great make up.

The air smells of organic decomposition — like my garden compost when I upturn it. There is also a fragrance of mouldy venison that could be coming from unwashed body sweat. 

I speak: “Where am I?”

“GLOuPrenorhbverthywioplo” is the reply, I think.

The man who said this is old, but what is old?… 

Should I panic? I feel no threat. Is this a prank? Yes. I think my mates played a prank last night after a boozy night. My breath is not the best fresh possible and my clothes are… 

Where are my clothes?…

Am I naked? I always sleep naked but I feel warm. I am covered with a big animal fur, which I guess is that of a bear. A cowhide would somewhat be rougher… 

A weird feeling of fear mixed with bewilderment for an unknown fate comes to my mind. I shiver. I play along…

This is really happening… or not happening.

Come on guys, I think. The joke has been going for long enough…

I have a slight headache. I look for my glasses. Do I have any?

There is no sign of aggression from the beastly looking men, nor from the hairy females. If I was not mistaken, I would think that… No, they could not be… They look like Neanderthals… But they could not be… could they? Which country on this earth have I been moved to?… Is there Neanderthals still surviving in the 21st century? Where?… 

“Okay,” I say, “what’s happening? I need to pee… Where’s the loo”…

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo?”….

As I get up, holding on to the fur cover, I realise I stand at least one foot above them… I am not that tall, really, say six-one…

They moved back slightly. I have counted seven persons. This could be significant.

I am dreaming…. I must be dreaming… 

I blink a few times.

The fire seems to be real… the ivory tusks lying around seem to be real… The smells seem to be real… One pinches oneself when one is not sure… The sting feel is real… I lift one arm and place my hand outwards with a questioning gesture… I start to see that I’m more of a puzzle to them than them to me…  They are good actors… At least I have been educated. I have seen images of such side-humans. I am looking around for a sign of present civilisation, like a power plug or a modern instrument… a Kettle? a Kettle for a cup of tea or a strong coffee… 

“Any chance for a cuppa?” I ask.

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!”….

“Where’s the loo?” I answer.

I can see the sun rise over the horizon and it gloomily illuminates the place where I slept through what looks like the entrance of a cave.

One of the males seems to understand the gesture I make which is mimicking a piddle. He lift his arms as if he wants me to follow.

Outside the cave, to the right at about 50 metres along a wide ledge we arrive to a clearing to the edge of a small cliff, where I think the guys relieve themselves. The stench is horrendous, but I do my best to stay upright as I get rid of the pints of beer that have flooded my bladder. The stag night party for Phill had been a roaring success.

The other males had followed me and watch… it is slightly unnerving. I guess that this is the male pissoires and women are not allowed near it.

I look around, the city has vanished and we are slightly high up from a vast plain. It’s covered in snow and I feel a couple of snowflake falling on my bare shoulders. I shiver. I was warm until then and last night was an early summer’s day. 27th of June. I’m confused and disoriented… I must be dreaming. This is the purpose of the game, I think… My life as an advertising executive is unrelated to the scene… I blink again…

“Hey guys, I’ve seen ‘The Truman Show’ so ease up a bit…”

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!”

One guy points to the forest further along… A brown bear has seen us and is turning back.

Is this great virtual reality or not? An Artificial intelligence experiment? 

I have noted the stone-axes and the spears. So realistic. I can’t remember if the Neanderthals had weapons like these. My knowledge of pre-history is a bit thin. I can see aurochs eating frozen grass nearby. They look like a cross between brahman bulls and bisons… In the far distance, there is a herd of mammoths. It’s a very elaborate AI.

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!”

“Guys?” I say…. “I’m cold”

They seem not to feel the freezing temperature. They are bare arms and bare legs. I’m wrapped in a fur blanket and I feel I’m at the North Pole.

Should I accept that I’m now stuck in a strange past with a family of Neanderthals. I ask myself if these aren’t my ancestors…

Really?… What elaborate hoax have I fallen into…

The air is glacial… Ice Age cold. How would I know? I don’t. I just feel it is…. 

An hour or an eternity of a day passes and the night falls. It seems the females had gone to collect a few leaves. The males did not do much, it seems, just looking at me nearly constantly and collecting a few fallen branches for the fire possibly. One of them seems to fiddle interminably fixing a stone to a stick. I though of berries, but it’s too cold for fruiting. We end up again in the cave. I’m hungry and all that is on offer is some raw roots and a thin portion of uncooked meat. I could spew. I don’t. 

The teeth of these people are impressively large. My dentist would be amazed, except their teeth are grey. 

I cry… I really cry… Guys!

The mud and grass-cover inside the cave is barely warm enough. One of the men seems to guard the entrance. The others and the two women huddle together on the floor after having stuck a log on the fire. They hardly talked all day. I pull the fur rug over me and I try to sleep. 

A baby, I had not noticed before, cries.

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!” is now said like a song… the soft song of a lost whale calling her tribe…

My mind is falling apart. What’s happening to me?

The baby falls asleep and, after a while, as the smoke and flicker of the fire seem comforting, so do I… I am exhausted and confused. Tomorrow I will wake up in my bed. This is our strength. We, humans, live in hope.

========================

I dream of cars and houses and people. All these are weird in another world somewhere. 

When I wake up, a female offers me a skin overall that she had stitched during the night with some dried reeds. I need toothpaste and a visit to the cesspool away from the cave. Breakfast? More raw meat or has it been dried by the cold air of the night, like a Jerky stick?… 

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!”

The sun rises poorly. Has someone detonated an atom bomb and we have entered a nuclear winter?

I am given the new stone axe in a strange movement by one of the men. Was it respectful or dismissive? Gestures of love or those of help can appear aggressive if one isn’t careful. I have no idea but it seems I have no choice but to follow the men who walk barefoot, ungainly, a bit like upright chimpanzees with shoes. The soil is super cold. I stop and point to my feet, now blue with pain. I gesture as if I wanted soles or slippers or anything. They could laugh but they don’t. It seems that humour or emotions have bypassed these people. I insist as I cry. I find some reeds and tie a couple of fur offcuts that they throw at me, on my frozen feet.

We walk for hours it seems to reach where the mammoths graze the unseen grass under the snow and the denuded branches of gnarled trees. They are huge beasts — probably too big to be an AI creation. 

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!” says one of the men pointing to the smaller animal. suddenly, before I could think, a volley of spears hit the beast and it seems that they were accurate enough to make it fall in pain. The other mammoths are hesitant. The men keep shouting “dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo! dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!” this time very loud as if to scare the beasts away. It seems to work.

The fallen beast is dying. I remember once in Africa, I was on holidays with Linda and we watched the sacrifice of a young steer. Its throat was cut and it slowly died bleeding, as its eyes were rolling in fear. It seems that the technique has not changed. It took a few hours, which I could not count, to skin off some of the tough hide, which looks like the fur I am wearing. The flesh is roughly cut out. Five men plus me — somewhat uselessly shivering — we had managed a mighty kill.

===========================

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!”

I become aware than something is not right. 

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!” 

“dhfgtreuorgythnovomgroo!” 

I sense a stage of panic amongst my hosts, if I can call them so.

From a hundred metres away, rises a group of people. twenty? thirty? One hundred? I can’t count. I can’t move.

Robbers, I think.

Hell! Are these Homo sapiens?

They don’t appear as rough as my family. They are more gracile and they have better shoes than mine.

My hosts seem to know the caper. 

Some of the looters take most of our bounty away, returning through the woods, just leaving a few scraps behind.

The other humans of the mob seem to be aggressive and more confident.

They walk us to the cave and rape the women. My male host are useless, seemingly peaceful or used to the happening.

.... 

The new humans soon start a fight and they spear most of my hosts. I bleed. I feel I am vanishing… Death is a strange journey that makes life fade away… I won’t wake up.

        Robert Urbanoski — 27 June 2026

PLEASE VISIT:

YOURDEMOCRACY.NET RECORDS HISTORY AS IT SHOULD BE — NOT AS THE WESTERN MEDIA WRONGLY REPORTS IT — SINCE 2005.

         Gus Leonisky

         POLITICAL CARTOONIST SINCE 1951.

         RABID ATHEIST.

         WELCOME TO THIS INSANE WORLD….