A new kind of man has arrived at our world.
I call him Homo Adaptus.
(Do not look it up on Google, it's a naming I had to come up with because nothing else fitted.)
Let me try to explain what I mean –
When my grandmother, Nina, was born in cold Lithuania, the streets were full of horses and carriages. As a child, she saw how cars arrived, slowly replacing the carriages. Most of the horse riders have lost their jobs. A few have moved to work as car drivers. That was also the case with the carriages builders – most have lost their jobs, but a few went to work in car factories. They've adapted.
To my grandmother's funeral, we drove in cars. Faster cars than those created in the 1930s, quieter, less polluting – but still – cars. Four wheels, four doors, steering wheel, and brakes.
When my grandmother was starting over from scratch, she managed to get a job at the Post Office. She never complained about her work, nor did she expect it would be easy.
She was Homo Adaptus.