In Part One, we established something that the available evidence handles quite comfortably: the female is not the weaker version

Her name was Nkechi. She was thirty-one years old, and she was dying — at least, that is what the doctors privately believed.

It was the spring of 1900. A group of Greek sponge divers, blown off course by a fierce Mediterranean storm, dropped anchor near the small island of Antikythera — a barren, wind-battered speck of land sitting between Crete and the Greek mainland. They were looking for shelter. What they found instead would take another century for the world to begin to understand.

In 1927, a Peruvian archaeologist named Toribio Mejia Xesspe was hiking through the desert plateau south of Lima when he noticed something odd about the ground. Shallow lines. Trenches, really — no deeper than 10 to 30 centimetres — scraped into the reddish-brown surface of the earth to reveal the pale yellow-grey subsoil beneath. They ran in straight lines for hundreds of metres. He noted them, filed a report, and moved on. They were curious. They were not yet miraculous.

Let me be honest with you right from the jump. This piece is personal. It is not a theoretical
think-piece written from the safe distance of academia. I co-founded a clean-tech electric vehicle company from scratch—the kind that starts with a big idea, a small team, an even smaller budget, and an almost embarrassing amount of optimism. So when I talk about the greed for growth and what it costs you, I am not talking from a podium. I am talking from the trenches.