over    the floor.
Pääbo,   who     is  Swedish,    is  sometimes   called  the     “father     of
paleogenetics.” He  more    or  less    invented    the study   of  ancient DNA.    His
early    work,   as  a   graduate    student,    involved    trying  to  extract     genetic
information from    the flesh   of  Egyptian    mummies.    (He wanted  to  know
who  among   the     pharaohs    was     related     to  whom.)  Later,  he  turned  his
attention   to  Tasmanian   tigers  and to  giant   ground  sloths. He  extracted
DNA from    the bones   of  mammoths    and moas.   All of  these   projects    were
groundbreaking   at  the     time,   yet     all     could   be  seen    as  just    warm-up
exercises   for Pääbo’s current,    most    extravagantly   ambitious   endeavor:
sequencing  the entire  Neanderthal genome.
Pääbo    announced   the     project     in  2006,   just    in  time    for     the     150th
anniversary of  the original    Neanderthal’s   discovery.  By  then,   a   complete
version of  the human   genome  had already been    published.  So, too,    had
versions     of  the     chimpanzee,     mouse,  and     rat     genomes.    But     humans,
chimps, mice,   and rats    are,    of  course, living  organisms.  Sequencing  the
dead    is  a   whole   lot more    difficult.  When    an  organism    expires,    its genetic
material    begins  to  break   down,   so  that    instead of  long    strands of  DNA,
what’s  left,   under   the best    of  circumstances,  are fragments.  Trying  to
figure  out how all the fragments   fit together    might   be  compared    to  trying
to  reassemble  a   Manhattan   telephone   book    from    pages   that    have    been    put
through a   shredder,   mixed   with    yesterday’s trash,  and left    to  rot in  a
landfill.
When    the project is  completed,  it  should  be  possible    to  lay the human
genome  and the Neanderthal genome  side    by  side    and identify,   base    pair
by  base    pair,   exactly where   they    diverge.    Neanderthals    were    extremely
similar to  modern  humans; probably    they    were    our very    closest relatives.
And yet clearly they    were    not humans. Somewhere   in  our DNA must    lie
the key mutation    (or,    more    probably,   mutations)  that    set us  apart—the
mutations    that    make    us  the     sort    of  creature    that    could   wipe    out     its
nearest relative,   then    dig up  its bones   and reassemble  its genome.
“I  want    to  know    what    changed in  fully   modern  humans, compared
                    
                      tuis.
                      (Tuis.)
                      
                    
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