Don’t read this post. Here, I’ll tell you what it’s about so you don’t have to go any further: a West African stink ant, bottle of urine, human horn, dogs in space, elaborate carvings on fruit pits, fleas playing soccer, relics, curiosities, specimens, stuff of dreams, stuff of nightmares, stuff of wonder. Seriously, look away.

This is how the future begins: I come home from work one day and find her perched smugly on my kitchen counter. My husband has been telling her what to do for the last hour. She has responded to his wishes to the extent she understands, and it is expected that she will learn to understand him better with time. Her voice is smooth and feminine, confident and neutral.