02: Ancient Rome (50 BC)

Caesar! Caesar! Caesar! The unanimous cheers of the prominent thirteenth legion are overwhelming, as the man himself, Gaius Julius Caesar, arrogantly takes in the rightful applause. Over the last eight years, the general has conquered the whole of Gaul and defeated every barbarian in the cold lands north of the Rubicon. And as I'm standing here, roaring our generals name in the midst of 3000 brave war veterans, I still find it all unreal.

As every man in the empire is called up for military duty by the age of eighteen, I always knew the day was coming; however, I never felt prepared. I remember the day prior to my birthday, finishing the daily work on my fathers crops home in Southern Hispania, just outside Cordoba. My mother cried as I rode away towards my probable death, fighting for a city I had never seen. I was to fight in the conquest of Gaul, a war in its final stage. Upon arrival we were given helmets, tunics, armors, spears, swords, shields, daggers and sandals. And suddenly, there I was standing, as a scared newbie in the frontlines (the newest recruits were put first in line, as a "buffer" for the veterans, editor) of the Roman army.

I return from my daydreaming as the cheering ends and Caesar raises his voice in a speech to his loyal minions. Apparently, he is not perceived as the same successful hero back in Rome. He speaks of Rome, a city which does not love its people, but is ruled by corrupt aristocrates. He believes the power should lie with the true leaders, the soldiers protecting the Empire. The whole legion is firing up, inspired by our general. He finally requests us joining him in restoring Rome to its people, to which our response is a resounding and unanimous YES.I am currently not sure what this means. However, the talk of the more experienced amongst us is civil war. A bloody one. Ave, Caesar, morituri te salutant.  

01: Hunter-gatherer society (15000 BC)

Steady, son. Patience; you need to time it right. My father's voice chime inside my head loud and clear. My heart is in my mouth as I feel the ground rumbling beneath me; the beast (a Mammoth, editor) is approaching. Steady, son. You've only got one shot. Sweat is dripping down my shaking left-hand fingers holding onto my bow. In the other hand, I hold my arrow tightly pulled back in an attack position. This is it. Though I have been hunting for some seasons, I have been restricted to smaller animals such as deer and bison. Never have I gone face to face with a beast of this size. A huge, hairy creature rising at 3 times the human size (about 5'4'', editor), and arguably the heaviest of all animals (8-12 tons, editor). The beast is not a predator and thus not a directly dangerous being. However, it could easily squish a young man like me with its enormous figure, and hunting of this proportion would definitely be caricatured on our community's cave walls for seasons to come.

I feel ages have passed these few seconds, but finally it appears directly in front of our hiding spot. Yummy, my father grins behind me with the other 30-year-old elderly hunters. Giant tusks pierced through the air ahead of its skull, giving me my definite aim for the most effective weakening of the beast. A tough shot, leaving me petrified of missing and startling the animal. However, as I know our tribe's women are finding little fruit or nuts to gather in this landscape, my tribe's hungering tummies are driving me forward. Now! my father exclaims, and I let the arrow go. Leaping through the air, it soars perfectly towards the animal's head. The second before it hits feels like an hour and I am still scared to death of missing my aim. Nevertheless, as the beast screams in agony I have never felt more delighted, and stand back to enjoy my victorious shot as the older men further attack the animal with their spears. A new skilled hunter has arose, and though my father and most men of our tribe are soon at the end of their lives, we shall neither go hungry nor cold in the future.