Thursday, 19 January 2017

The Hunting Party

[Media prompt] Natural selection is making ‘education genes’ rarer, says Icelandic study. Researchers say that while the effect corresponds to a small drop in IQ per decade, over centuries the impact could be profound.

The Hunting Party

The first stars were pricking pinholes in the clear night sky when our driver stopped in a clearing by the river and told us to set up camp. The two Chinese astrophysicists set about erecting their tents with the efficiency generally associated with their race. By the time I rolled out my sleeping bag, they were seated on a log cleaning their guns, old M48 Libertys; one of the twelve firearms MENSA permitted for hunting.

While the driver prepared an evening meal, I made small talk with the Chinese, who kept mainly to themselves, not out of any sense of superiority, although they had every right to do so, but because they were on their honeymoon. They had met and fallen in love at the Chinese research facility on Mars, the midwit media subsequently dubbing them the “Martians”; a play on their surnames, Ma and Tian.

Although I had nothing against the M48, I’d hunted successfully with one last season, my choice of the Remington 760 Gamemaster on this trip was based entirely on its capacity for fast follow up shots. Reversing the trend of the last decade, MENSA had increased the bag limit this year. There had also been rumours that a new study estimated the average Sub-Saharan IQ had dropped 0.5 per cent in the last three years. If true, this was an astonishing depletion of mental acuity and probably spelled the end of the Low IQ hunt in the next couple of decades. There would be no sport in hunting the mildly retarded, and the Chinese would more than likely cull the remaining population en masse.

We were still half-a-day’s drive from the hunt zone, but the driver nevertheless set sentinels at three equidistant points to safeguard us from loners, who sometimes broke away from their pack and escaped into the unoccupied territories. I have to confess, I found the thought of encountering prey one-on-one more thrilling than hunting a pack, and at night I would sometimes silently pray for one to breach our perimeter.

The next day we wound our way up a long, gentle gradient, following a small track, which was really no more than two wheel ruts in the dry red earth. The driver activated his tracking screens, and the three of us, the Chinese couple and I, could see a pack of about 60 Africans moving across the savannah on the other side of the hill. MENSA had categorised them as ‘Borderline Retarded’, an average IQ of 74, and ‘Violently Savage’. Even though it was the Chinese couple’s first hunt, they appeared outwardly calm, the woman in particular, which was to be expected; living on Mars no doubt stiffened the spine.

When we crested the ridge, a vast plain extending to a thick black range of mountains on the horizon came into view, and the driver stopped, as the rules decreed. No hunting party was permitted the advantage of vehicular transport. I let the Chinese couple dismount first, then followed them down the red slope onto the flatlands below.

At this rate, barbarism would be eliminated in my life time. 

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