The End of Evolution

As the writer of his species' will, the burden of generations of his ape ancestors buries him - the immense legacy of apes upon his frail body

Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long upon the land (Source)

The ape sitting at the end of history has no one to talk to. Many apes in this situation talk to the past. But this ape tries to talk to the future. The state of his species allows him neither optimism nor pessimism, but only an ice-cold gaze - yet from the face of an ape. No wonder they laugh at him. As the writer of his species' will, the burden of generations of his ape ancestors buries him - the immense legacy of apes upon his frail body. And from that grave, he must address the heirs of the future, who are in a sense - which he hopes is not a cruel joke - his children. Perhaps his adopted children, for how can he address those strangers in spirit - what does he have to say to them that would make him their father after they've imprisoned him here behind bars. And he shouts to those surrounding him now: Honor your father and your mother, so that your days may be long upon the land. And they smile. They understand that they don't understand. But in another sense, they don't understand that they understand. Their faces are turned to the small computers in their hands - their impending successors - which document him. Yes, they smile. They want what's best for him. And they give him a banana.