I have returned. Returned to where it all started, the genesis of man. I, millenia ago, stood witness to this. The caveman days, bereft of true civilization and development. Yet, I am back. Not merely as a witness this time, no, I am truly here, here and now.
My hunting party walks the perilous path through the snowy plains, searching for prey. Our hunt for the mammoth, its meat our sustenance and bones our tools, has become dire. Suti, our scout, has been severely injured. Yet, we persevere in our trek. The tribe depends on this. The powerful beast, regardless of its majesty, must be captured.
I am cold. Such a sensation - it is truly novel. My previous cycle throughout time was numb and uninteresting, the mild frost of snow and ice irrelavant in the face of my indifference to the struggles of man. But I am no longer a spectator. No longer devoid of sensation, but devoid of the quasi-omnipotent powers granted to me. That is because, this time, I am truly here. I am truly mortal, a vulnerable man for the first time in eons.
I am hungry. My stomach pains, my legs tire, but I must persevere. I know the hunt must succeed for the tribe to survive. Meat must be delivered, lest we starve in this frozen land bereft of vegetation. Obligation, duty, responsibility. This was my first lesson.
"To the left! Lead him to the left!"
My leader gives a command. I follow. The ground trembles with each footstep, the mature beast heavy and ripe with meat, breathing down my tail. Food. We need food. For the tribe. For me.
"The trap is right ahead! Jump!"
I jump. A pathetic jump, constrained by my mortality. Yet, it suffices. The mammoth falls in the pit, a trap designed for such a beast. Our hunt succeeds. A gargantuant monstrosity, powerful and deadly, yet even it succumbs to the cooperation of my group. Communication. Teamwork. Ingeniousness. This was my second lesson.
The fire is lit, the meat being cooked. I sit, reflecting on the day. The tribe will be fed, and our tools fixed or replaced. I am happy, truly happy, that I have fulfilled my obligation. But I am weak. So weak. I reminisce on the first time I had been charged at by a mammoth, millenia ago, the first instance in which I witnessed this era. Before the clocks turned back. It died to a mere slap of my hand.
But this mammoth died too, to me and my mortal brethren. Out of our cooperation, driven by obligation and duty. Is this the goal? The answer of which I have sought for millenia?
No. It can't be. We hunt again next week, our obligation calling once more. Cooperation will, as well, be required once more. But I've done it, my duty to fill the stomachs of the children of the tribe? I've shared in camraderie and ingenuity with the cooperation in the hunt? Have I experienced fulfillment, the secret to which I have been chasing?
Yes, though temporary and fleeting. Can the ends of man truly be nothing but a fleeting sensation?
No. This is not the answer. Not the full answer, or perhaps not part of the answer at all. This is not the ends of man, lest the end be construed as slaving away for obligation and responsibility, or merely the participation in a cooperative activity. Satisfying as it may be, this is not my answer. Of that I am sure.
I will keep searching.