The following is an excerpt from, On the Origin of Species written by Charles Darwin two centuries prior. In this piece, Darwin explains his personal experience after completing his seven year, around the world voyage aboard the HMS Beagle.

Chapter 15: Reflections

Upon completing my circumnavigation of the globe I am left with a feeling of ephemeral worldliness. A certain sense of connectivity that burns my soul and radiates down my extremities. The Amphibious humanoids, the Tsum-Tsum, that resided on the southern most tip of South America had a word for such a sensation. "Roh" is what they called it and though no direct translation exists in the Queen's English the closest I can explain it is; a wholesome awareness of life that extends beyond the self and into our fellow man. A sense of existence that extends beyond the boundary of species, reaching back to primordial origin when we were not different, but the same.

Life began in the ether, or as some intellectuals call it the primordial soup. A nutritious and rich microbial world where single called organisms thrived. Eventually aberrations occurred with the organisms and one species became two, then two became four, four to eight, and so on and so forth reaching the near millions of major and minor species that Earth boasts today. In my travels I encountered countless species of varying genealogies and exotic looks. I counted a multitude of differing species of Finches on a group of islands west of South America alone. On a swath of land smaller than Sicily a single species of bird had evolved in remarkably different ways, all to serve the purpose of survival.

It is from my interactions with the Tsum-Tsum that allowed me a deeper understanding of what I witnessed there. Life extends beyond myself. Even today as I write this on my return journey, those birds exist thriving within their small pocket of existence. They will continue to exist long after I'm gone.

During my brief time in the West Indies I encountered another species much different from the peaceful Tsum-Tsum. These hominids were stout in height, but slender. They had hair atop their head that matches our own, but also down their backs and the posterior face of the legs and arms. Their ears were pointed and their pupils had an elongated oval shape, like that of a goat. Their skin was blackened by the harsh sun, but also dappled with almond. They were a fearsome species, capable of loud screeching noises when they felt threatened. I was only able to converse with them in the brief moments they allowed for trade of goods and materials. They were a warlike species who had spread across the numerous islands of the West Indies and up into coastal regions of North America, the Yucatan peninsula, and South America. Separated by thousands of miles of harsh terrain this species, called the Atipola, had never heard of the Tsum-Tsum.

The pieces of culture and stories I gathered from the Atipola told a story of war and loss. Sad tales of how the dappled species rose and fell like the tide. Every century or so the Atipola, cramped by their frivolous mating habits, would attempt to expand beyond their islands onto the main land. Disease and attrition would cut their numbers dramatically until they would retreat back to their homes. This pattern has happened time and again, stretching beyond the oral history of the species into tradition where the Atipola today know only war and death.

A story quite different from that of the Tsum-Tsum, but still the same I think.

I had no contact with the avian species that dominated north America. My only source of information came from stories of colonists in Boston and New York. As the Beagle re-supplied I spoke with the settlers of my own race to learn of another. One kind man, a scholar named Daniel Tremain, provided me a copy of his journey, in which he details a brief encounter with the avian humanoids; the Velos.

I cite Tremain, "The bird-like species that inhabits the interior of the American continent is enigmatic and cautious. Living in villages high up in the trees and along the faces of mountains they watch us humans far below with suspicious Eagles eyes. They seldom come down from their perch only doing so when we threaten their borders with expansion or when the appeal of trade coaxes them down. They are a violent species leaving the carcasses of dead humans along their borders, impaled by spikes, as a poignant warning 'trespassers beware.' At night I have seen them fly as blackened silhouettes, shadowed by the blanket of the night sky. They hunt in packs of a dozen or so. As they fly they sing. A soft chirping that acts as a sirens song, luring prey out from the safety of dirt hovels only to be snatched up by razor talons. It is not uncommon for a wayward child to be taken or a women who ventures too far from the safety of the colonies."

Tremain continues in detail on the hunting patterns of the species. He also talks of a long standing grudge between the Atipoli and Velos. Engaging in a staggered warfare the bird species nips at their dappled foes. Above all else the Velos are patient. Tremain writes that they understand the warmongering Atipoli will always try to take their land, but that they will always prevail. In much the same way the Velos believe we humans will eventually abandon our colonies and return to Europe. They are patient. They will allow disease to fester and thin our numbers. Only our entrepreneurial relationship with the avian species prevents war, but in ten years who is to say that will be enough?

The Tsum-Tsum, the Atipoli, and the Velos are the three dominating species of the Americas. They all live in ways that benefit their species, much like the varied Finches on the Galapagos they have evolved to suit their environment. Had it not been for my interactions with the Tsum-Tsum, I would think myself above them. For their is no greater creature on God's Earth than humankind. These simple subspecies are limited in their mind and childish in their ways, but was not our species the same? We hunted our ancestral brothers, the Neanderthals, into extinction. We took Africa from the Australopithecus Africanus. We were much like the Atipoli when we butchered our species. Maybe that is why humankind stands above the other species. We eliminated the competition on our select continents. With no outside threat we grew into the great nations that we are today.

I think I know now that even though humankind holds itself above all other life, that we are no important than the smallest finch. We all come from the same place and though we've taken different paths down the evolutionary road, I believe that we are all heading in the same direction. To what? I cannot say. I have only "Roh" to guide me. To understand where we have come from is paramount to understanding where we are going. All life on Earth has come from one point, we are brothers to the Velos, sisters to Tsum-Tsum, cousins of the Atipoli. The genealogical heritage that we all share puts us on an equal plain with our brothers and sisters. We are all the same, all life is precious, even as far back as the origin of species.