For a time, it appears, Homo erectus was the only hominid species on Earth. It was hugely adventurous and spread across the globe with what seems to have been breathtaking rapidity. The fossil evidence, if taken literally, suggests that some members of the species reached Java at about the same time as, or even slightly before, they left Africa. This has led some hopeful scientists to suggest that perhaps modern people arose not in Africa at all, but in Asia-which would be remarkable, not to say miraculous, as no possible precursor species have ever been found anywhere outside Africa. The Asian hominids would have had to appear, as it were, spontaneously. And anyway an Asian beginning would merely reverse the problem of their spread; you would still have to explain how the Java people then got to Africa so quickly.

There are several more plausible alternative explanations for how Homo erectus managed to turn up in Asia so soon after its first appearance in Africa. First, a lot of plus-or-minusing goes into the dating of early human remains. If the actual age of the African bones is at the higher end of the range of estimates or the Javan ones at the lower end, or both, then there is plenty of time for African erects to find their way to Asia. It is also entirely possible that older erectus bones await discovery in Africa. In addition, the Javan dates could be wrong altogether.

Now for the doubts. Some authorities don’t believe that the Turkana finds are Homo erectus at all. The snag, ironically, was that although the Turkana skeletons were admirably extensive, all other erectus fossils are inconclusively fragmentary. As Tattersall and Jeffrey Schwartz note in Extinct Humans, most of the Turkana skeleton “couldn’t be compared with anything else closely related to it because the comparable parts weren’t known!” The Turkana skeletons, they say, look nothing like any Asian Homo erectus and would never have been considered the same species except that they were contemporaries. Some authorities insist on calling the Turkana specimens (and any others from the same period) Homo ergaster. Tattersall and Schwartz don’t believe that goes nearly far enough. They believe it was ergaster “or a reasonably close relative” that spread to Asia from Africa, evolved into Homo erectus, and then died out.

What is certain is that sometime well over a million years ago, some new, comparatively modern, upright beings left Africa and boldly spread out across much of the globe. They possibly did so quite rapidly, increasing their range by as much as twenty-five miles a year on average, all while dealing with mountain ranges, rivers, deserts, and other impediments and adapting to differences in climate and food sources. A particular mystery is how they passed along the west side of the Red Sea, an area of famously punishing aridity now, but even drier in the past. It is a curious irony that the conditions that prompted them to leave Africa would have made it much more difficult to do so. Yet somehow they managed to find their way around every barrier and to thrive in the lands beyond.

And that, I’m afraid, is where all agreement ends. What happened next in the history of human development is a matter of long and rancorous debate, as we shall see in the next chapter.

But it is worth remembering, before we move on, that all of these evolutionary jostlings over five million years, from distant, puzzled australopithecine to fully modern human, produced a creature that is still 98.4 percent genetically indistinguishable from the modern chimpanzee. There is more difference between a zebra and a horse, or between a dolphin and a porpoise, than there is between you and the furry creatures your distant ancestors left behind when they set out to take over the world.

29 THE RESTLESS APE

SOMETIME ABOUT A million and a half years ago, some forgotten genius of the hominid world did an unexpected thing. He (or very possibly she) took one stone and carefully used it to shape another. The result was a simple teardrop-shaped hand axe, but it was the world’s first piece of advanced technology.

It was so superior to existing tools that soon others were following the inventor’s lead and making hand axes of their own. Eventually whole societies existed that seemed to do little else. “They made them in the thousands,” says Ian Tattersall. “There are some places in Africa where you literally can’t move without stepping on them. It’s strange because they are quite intensive objects to make. It was as if they made them for the sheer pleasure of it.”

From a shelf in his sunny workroom Tattersall took down an enormous cast, perhaps a foot and a half long and eight inches wide at its widest point, and handed it to me. It was shaped like a spearhead, but one the size of a stepping-stone. As a fiberglass cast it weighed only a few ounces, but the original, which was found in Tanzania, weighed twenty-five pounds. “It was completely useless as a tool,” Tattersall said. “It would have taken two people to lift it adequately, and even then it would have been exhausting to try to pound anything with it.”

“What was it used for then?”

Tattersall gave a genial shrug, pleased at the mystery of it. “No idea. It must have had some symbolic importance, but we can only guess what.”

The axes became known as Acheulean tools, after St. Acheul, a suburb of Amiens in northern France, where the first examples were found in the nineteenth century, and contrast with the older, simpler tools known as Oldowan, originally found at Olduvai Gorge in Tanzania. In older textbooks, Oldowan tools are usually shown as blunt, rounded, hand-sized stones. In fact, paleoanthropologists now tend to believe that the tool part of Oldowan rocks were the pieces flaked off these larger stones, which could then be used for cutting.

Now here’s the mystery. When early modern humans-the ones who would eventually become us-started to move out of Africa something over a hundred thousand years ago, Acheulean tools were the technology of choice. These early Homo sapiens loved their Acheulean tools, too. They carried them vast distances. Sometimes they even took unshaped rocks with them to make into tools later on. They were, in a word, devoted to the technology. But although Acheulean tools have been found throughout Africa, Europe, and western and central Asia, they have almost never been found in the Far East. This is deeply puzzling.

In the 1940s a Harvard paleontologist named Hallum Movius drew something called the Movius line, dividing the side with Acheulean tools from the one without. The line runs in a southeasterly direction across Europe and the Middle East to the vicinity of modern-day Calcutta and Bangladesh. Beyond the Movius line, across the whole of southeast Asia and into China, only the older, simpler Oldowan tools have been found. We know that Homo sapiens went far beyond this point, so why would they carry an advanced and treasured stone technology to the edge of the Far East and then just abandon it?

“That troubled me for a long time,” recalls Alan Thorne of the Australian National University in Canberra. “The whole of modern anthropology was built round the idea that humans came out of Africa in two waves-a first wave of Homo erectus, which became Java Man and Peking Man and the like, and a later, more advanced wave of Homo sapiens, which displaced the first lot. Yet to accept that you must believe that Homo sapiens got so far with their more modern technology and then, for whatever reason, gave it up. It was all very puzzling, to say the least.”

As it turned out, there would be a great deal else to be puzzled about, and one of the most puzzling findings of all would come from Thorne’s own part of the world, in the outback of Australia. In 1968, a geologist named Jim Bowler was poking around on a long-dried lakebed called Mungo in a parched and lonely corner of western New South Wales when something very unexpected caught his eye. Sticking out of a crescent-shaped sand ridge of a type known as a lunette were some human bones. At the time, it was believed that humans had been in Australia for no more than 8,000 years, but Mungo had been dry for 12,000 years. So what was anyone doing in such an inhospitable place?