The reverberations were felt not only in the world of prehistoric anthropology, but throughout the social sciences. For one thing, the theory that the Neanderthals had become extinct because their rivals, the more advanced Homo sapiens, had wiped them off the face of the earth by either ruthless, outright aggression or by outcompeting them for scarce resources took a major hit. Proponents of this theory, while unconvinced by the find, were forced to retreat to their ivory towers, muttering and licking their wounds. More broadly, the study of the relationships between more and less advanced societies was given new life. And champions of multiculturalism had a new and appealing poster child. (If Neanderthals and early humans could get along well enough to produce a child, and if the human mother of that child was lovingly taken in by the child’s extended Neanderthal family, then surely we humans of merely different skin colors – genetically so much closer to each other – could hope to get along too… could we not?)

Gideon’s story took them through their main course – they both had had the smoked salmon fettuccine – at the Bella Italia on Front Street, and Julie nodded as he finished.

“Okay, thanks. I think I get the picture now.”

“You managed to stay awake the whole time?”

“Oh, there may have been a teeny-weeny lapse or two, right around the mitochondrial DNA part, but I managed to get most of it.”

Their waiter, Bruce, finished clearing away their dinner plates and offered them a dessert menu.

“Just a latte for me,” Julie said, fending it off.

“And I’ll have an espresso,” said Gideon.

Bruce feigned shock. “No postre? But our chef della pasticceria will be grossly offended. I fear to tell him.” Bruce had served them many a fine meal and had earned the right to talk with them like this.