From this interview with sci-fi author Stephen Baxter, I note this all-too prevalent, and rather silly, sentiment:

I'm interested in the cusp of transcendence, where we're about to shed our humanity. I'm thinking of stories like 'Eyes Do More Than See' by Asimov, where the superbeings of the far future have a sense of loss of humanity, and one tries to construct a human head out of bits of clay, which doesn't seem fully human until they pour water on it and it appears to cry.... In my book we're either going to win by becoming transcendent, or we'll lose to the Xeelee and be crushed, but either way we won't be human any more, and we're looking back to the past, and we're consumed by regret.

The inherent implication in attitudes like this is that in consequent stages of human evolution, most likely accelerated by technological advance, we're inevitably going to lose some vital aspect of our beings, and that we'll regret that loss.

To which I ask the rhetorical question, how much do you pine for the good old days of the Australopithecus? Hey, we lost some of our apeness...anybody long for that?

Or going further back, how many of us wish we hadn't lost so much of our reptilian nature, or our primordial gooiness?

Is it possible that beings in the future will look back on us as reckless, superstitious savages, and won't feel even so much as a pang of regret that they aren't much like us anymore?