Hammond

Mighty's secretary bustled into his office with a new suitcase, tags and all. "You know Mr. Gennaro," She scolded, "When you forget to pack for a trip, something tells me you really don't want to go."

"Maybe you right," Mighty said, "I'll be missing my kid's birthday." It was true, Sunday was his daughter Melody's birthday, and his wife, Margret, had invited twenty screaming five year olds, as well as a clown and a magician. His wife was not happy to hear that he would miss it. Neither was Melody.

"Well," His secretary huffed, "I did the best I could on short notice. There's running shoes your size, khaki shirts and pants, a shaving kit, and a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt in case it gets cold. There is a car down stairs to take you to the airport; you need to leave now to make the flight."

Mighty quickly thanked her, and walked down the hall, tearing tags off the suitcase. As he passed the glass door of the conference room, Dan Ross left the table and joined him in his walk.

"Have a good trip," Ross said, "But let's get this clear, I don't know what is going on down there at the island, or how bad it is. But if there is a problem with the island, burn it to the ground, and I mean it."

"Ross…..We are talking about a big investment here."

"Don't hesitate. Don't think about it. Just do it. Do you hear me, do you understand?"

Mighty nodded, "I hear you…." He said, "But Hammond"-

"Forget Hammond," Ross said.

...…..

"My boy," the familiar raspy voice said, "How have you been? It has been a long time."

"Very well sir," Mighty replied. He leaned back in the padded chair of the jet that was now flying over the Rocky Mountains.

"You never call anymore," Hammond said, "I've missed you, tell me Mighty, how is your lovely wife?"

"She's fine. We have a little girl now."

"Oh how wonderful. Children are such a delight; she'll get a kick out of our new park in Costa Rica."

Gennaro stared at Hammond; he had forgotten how large he was. He swung his legs to and fro like a young child. Even though he was nothing of such, he was like, what? Seventy-five, seventy-six? Something like that, after all Gennaro hadn't seen the man in five years.

Gennaro eyed Hammond for a moment, thinking how evasive Hammond was. He seemed to forget the whole trip was about a law firm that had been forced onto him; instead he acted as if they were engaged in a purely social outing.

"Is the park prepared for visitors," Gennaro asked.

"Well not officially," Hammond replied, "But the hotel is built, so there is a place to stay…"

"And the animals?"

"Yes, yes all the animals are in place."

Gennaro said, "I remember you were hoping for twelve total…."

"Oh no, we are far beyond that. We have two hundred and thirty-eight animals, Mighty."

"Two hundred and thirty-eight?"

Hammond giggled, pleased at the sight of Gennaro's reaction, "You can't imagine them, we have herds of them, Mighty, herds."

"Two hundred and thirty-eight…how many species?"

"Fifteen different species, Mighty."

"That's…That's incredible, John," Gennaro gaped, "That's just fantastic. And what about everything else, the computers, the systems, the facilities?"

"All of it, all the latest sate of the art technology." Hammond smiled, "As you can see, Mighty, my dear boy, there is nothing to be concerned about."

"So you're just having normal start up delays?"

"Yes, I mean what do you expect, with all the animals and all the computers you're bound to run into snags," Hammond stated, "Have you ever heard of a major computer program running on schedule for its first run? I don't think so. Also this whole tour has to put everything on hold; we can't have constructions going while we have guests. So to put it in short, yes, we are only having normal start up delays."

Gennaro drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, "I hear there were accidents during construction."

Hammond waved his hand lazily, "Yes, yes, three construction workers died. Two in the construction of the cliff road, and the other died in a earthmover accident this past January, but we haven't had any more accidents in months." He placed a hand on the younger man's arm, "My dear boy trust me, when I say that everything on the island is going well. Then everything on the island is fine."

The plane intercom clicked, "Buckle your seatbelts please. We're landing in Choteau."

Choteau

"I hate waiting for the money men."

A tumble weed flew across the cracked concrete. Sonic stood with Shelly near the Jeep and waited patiently while the sleek Grumman jet circled around to land.

Shelly shrugged at Sonic's comment, "It goes with the job dear, you think you'd be used to it by now.

The jet landed, and rolled its way over to them. Shelly shouldered her bag and together she and Sonic walked towards the jet. As it came to a stop a stewardess opened to door.

Even though it was a rather luxurious jet, Sonic was surprised how cramped in was inside. He had to bend over to shake Hammond's hand, "Mr. Hammond."

"Oh no, my dear boy, that's to formal," Hammond smiled, "Call me Big, that's what all my close associates call me." Sonic glanced quickly over at Shelly who shrugged then nodded awkwardly.

"Dr. Grant, Dr. Sattler," Hammond said, "It is very nice for you to join us, let me introduce my associate, Mighty Gennaro."

Gennaro was a strong, muscular armadillo, in his mid-thirties, wearing an Armani suit and wide framed sunglasses. Sonic disliked him on sight. He shook hands quickly and sat down. When Shelly shook hands, Gennaro said in surprise, "You're a woman!"

"These things happen," she said coolly and Sonic thought: She doesn't like him either.

Hammond looked over at Gennaro, "You know of course what Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler do. They are paleontologists, they dig up dinosaurs." Then the old man giggled, as if the idea was absolutely absurd.

No sooner was everyone seated the plane began to move.

"You'll have to excuse us," Hammond sighed, "But we are in a little hurry. Mighty thinks it is important to get right on down to the island."

Sonic nodded, and leaned back in his chair as the pilot announced four hours flying time to Dallas, where the plane would refuel go on to Costa Rica by the following morning.

"How long will we be in Costa Rica?" Sattler asked.

"Depends," Gennaro responded.

"Take my word," Hammond said, "We'll be there no longer than forty-eight hours."

Sonic tightened his seat belt buckle, "What kind of island is this anyway? I haven't heard anything about it. Is it some kind of secret?"

Hammond smiled, "In a way. We've been very careful not to let any word get out. No one will know until we announce it. And I assure you; it will surprise and delight the world."

….

Target of Opportunity

The corporation of Biosyn, in Cupertino California, never called an emergency meeting for their board of directors. Yet here they were now. Ten directors, all sitting impatiently in the conference room. It was 9 p.m. They had been talking among themselves, but slowly had become silent. Shuffling papers, and pointlessly checking their watches.

"What are we waiting for?" one of them asked.

"One more, " Lewis Dodgson said, " We need one more."

"We need a quorum?" another director asked.

"Yes," Dodgson said, "We do."

That shut the directors up for a moment. Having a quorum meant the board was going to be asked a very important question. Dodgson didn't really want to have this meeting. But his boss said everything depended on this meeting…

This was Dodgson. Depending on who you asked, he was famous for being the most aggressive geneticist of his generation, that, or the most reckless. A reporter once stated he had the stare and a heart as "cold as metal" so his nickname was born. Metal Dodgson… and he liked it.

Biosyn and InGen were both competitors. They were in the race to see who could advance to most in the study and practice of genetics. Biosyn had successfully made a new, pale trout under the contract to the Department of Fish and Game of the State of Idaho. The trout were easier to spot in the streams, and was said to represent a step forward in angling. (At least, it eliminated to complaints of Fish and Game Department that there were no fish in the streams.) The fact was that the pale trout died of sunburn, and that its flesh was soggy and rather tasteless, was never mentioned. Biosyn was still working on that but-

InGen, yes InGen was working on something much better, much more magnificent, and much grander. And that is what the board of directors is here to discuss.

Suddenly the quorum stepped in, a young man of twenty; he sat down in his seat. Dodgson was now ready, and he didn't waste a second to start. He immediately stood.

"Gentlemen, we are here tonight to consider a target of opportunity." Dodgson said, "InGen."

Dodgson quickly explained the background of InGen. Its start up and the Japanese investors, the purchase of three supercomputers, and the unusual donations to zoos around the world.

"Despite all the clues," Dodgson frowned, "We still had no idea what InGen was up to. The company seemed only interested in animals and things from the past. People involved in paleontology and DNA phylogeneticists and so on."

Dodgson then smiled deviously, "Then in 1987, InGen bought an obscure company called Millipore Plastic Products in Nashville, Tennessee. This was a company that had recently patented a new type of plastic with the characteristics of an avian eggshell. This plastic could be shaped into an egg to store and hatch chicken embryos. A about a year after the company was formed; InGen bought the entire output of this millipore plastic or its own use."

"Dr. Dodgson, this is all very educational-"

"At the same time," Dodgson cut off, "Isle Nublar was purchased and construction began. This involved massive earthworks, including a shallow lake two miles long placed close to the center of the island. Plans for resort facilities have also been made. It appears that InGen is building a private zoo of large dimensions."

One of the directors leaned forward, "Dodgson…..So what?"

"The thing is," Dodgson frowned, "This is no common zoo. They seemed to have managed to clone animals from the past that have been extinct."

"What animals?"

"Animals that hatch from eggs, and requires a lot of space in a zoo."

"What Animals!"

Dodgson grinned evilly, "Dinosaurs. They are cloning dinosaurs." Dodgson thought: Pause for effect.

It worked, for the room was filled with stunned silence.

Creating dinosaurs was impossible. Not only was it impossible to find DNA of a dinosaur. (Because there was no known dinosaur DNA in the world.) Even if someone had found dinosaur DNA, they would need time and money, because it would be a difficult and most likely impossible task. But I could be attempted, if someone was willing to try.

Apparently, InGen had decided to try.

"What they have done," Dodgson said, breaking the silence. "Is build the greatest single tourist attraction to mankind. Zoos have become extremely popular over the few years. For this zoo, InGen can charge whatever they want. Two thousand dollars a day, ten thousand, and people will pay it. Then there is the merchandising. The picture books, T-shirts, video games, caps, stuffed toy, comic book, and coffee mugs, and pets."

"Pets?"

"Of course, why not? If they can make real dinosaurs, they can make pygmy dinosaurs as household pets. I mean come on, who wouldn't want to have a dinosaur as a pet. InGen could sell millions of them. And then InGen could design them to eat only InGen food.

"Damn," somebody said.

"My point exactly," Dodgson said, "This zoo will be the centerpiece of a massive enterprise."

"So what stops us from creating our own dinosaurs?"

"Nothing, except they have a five year start. It will be impossible to catch up by the end of the century."

He paused, "Of course we could obtain our some dino DNA. And with enough modification we could make them ours."

"We can obtain dinosaur's DNA?"

He paused yet again, "I believe we can, yes."

Somebody cleared their throat, "There would be nothing illegal about it…..

"Oh no," Dodgson said quickly, "Nothing illegal. I'm talking about legitimate source. A disgruntled employee, or some trash improperly disposed of, something like that."

"Do you have that source?"

"I do," Dodgson said, "But because of some problems in InGen, my source must act within these, next twenty-four hours."

A long silence filled the room; some directors looked at the secretary, taking notes/

"I honestly don't see the need for a formal resolution on this," Dodgson said, "Just a sense of the room, as to decide whether or not you feel I should proceed….."

Slowly every head in the room, nodded.

Nobody spoke, nothing went on record. They just nodded silently.

"Thank you for coming gentlemen." Dodgson flashed a mischievous grin, "I'll take it from here.

...…

Dodgson wove through the crowds of people, all trying to make their way around the airport. His client was to leave soon and he had to make sure all things were set and ready.

The man he was looking for was sitting at a table in the airport restaurant. The man looked over as he approached.

"Bout time you got here," He said, "My flight leaves in ten minutes.

Dodgson frowned, "I just want to go over the details."

The man rolled his eyes, "Whatever Dodgson, just so me the money."

Dodgson growled, he had been planning this for two years now, and every meeting he had with this man, the more obnoxious he got. He picked up his briefcase and handed it to the man. The man quickly grabbed it and opened it up a crack, "That's all of it?"

"Only have, you'll get the other seven hundred fifty thousand when you get back with the embryos."

"How do I transport them?"

Dodgson held up a large can of shaving cream. And the man looked at it.

"That's it?"

"That's it." Dodgson quickly showed him how it worked

"They may check my luggage."

Dodgson handed it to the man and he pushed the top. Sure enough, shaving cream came out, "Hmmm, not that bad." He said whipping the cream off with a napkin.

Dodgson smirked, "The can is just a little heavier that's all." His team had been working round the clock to design it.

"How much coolant is inside?"

"Enough for thirty-six hours, you should be back by then."

The man flashed a look, "That all depends on your boat captain, make sure he had a small cooler on the boat."

"I will,"

"Oh and make sure they come in at the east dock, not the north dock. That's the main dock, were the big supply boats come in. The east dock is a small utility dock."

"I will."

The man put the can in his bag," Now let's just review the bidding real quick."

Metal Dodgson growled, "The deal is the same, how many times must we go over this? Fifty thousand for the delivery of each embryo and if they are useful, an additional fifty thousand each."

"Cool, just checking." The man pushed away from the table.

"When will you be back in San Jose?"

"Probably Sunday."

Dodgson paused, "You sure you know how to work the-"

"Chill I know."

"I just was saying-"

"Relax," The man said, "I've got it covered, just have the money ready by the time I get back. I want it all Sunday morning, in cash."

"It will be waiting for you," Dodgson said, "Have a nice flight."

…..

Malcolm

Shortly after midnight, he stepped onto the plane at the Dallas airport. A strong legged hedgehog in his early thirties, He was dressed entirely in black. Black shoes, black pants, black shirt, black socks, even his fur was black, minus the read strips on his quills.

"Ah, Dr. Shadow Malcolm." Hammond smiled, with forced grace.

Malcolm grinned, "Hello John. Yes, I am afraid your old nemesis is here."

He shook hands with everyone saying quickly, "Shadow Malcolm, how do you do? I do maths." He struck Sonic as be more amused by the outing than anything else.

Of course, Grant knew who he was. Shadow Malcolm was one of the most famous of the next generation of mathematicians who were only interest in "how the real world works." They broke away from traditional math in many different ways.

Shadow sat down in one of the padded chairs, when the stewardess asked what he wanted to drink, he said, "Diet coke please, and don't shake it up to much."

Humid Dallas air drifted into the plane and Shelly spoke what everyone was thinking, "A little warm for black don't you think?"

"You're extremely pretty Dr. Sattler," he said. And Sonic pinched himself out of irritation, "I could look at your legs all day. But no, to answer your question. Black as a matter of fact is an excellent color for heat. If you remember your black-body radiation, black is actually the best in heat. Efficient radiation. In any case, I only wear two colors, black and gray."

Shelly was staring at him, her mouth open. Sonic leaned over and pushed on her chin, closing it. She blinked and flashed a look at him before looking back at Shadow.

"The colors are appropriate for any occasion," Malcolm continued, "And they go well together, should I make a mistake and put a pair of gray socks with my black trousers."

Gennaro blinked, "Well wouldn't you find it boring to wear only tow colors?"

"Not at all. I believe my life has value, and I don't want to waste it thinking about clothing." Malcolm said, "I don't want to think about what I will wear in the morning. Truly, can you imagine anything more boring than fashion? Sports perhaps, grown men swat at balls, while the world pays to cheer in the stands. But, in whole, I find fashion even more pointless than sports. Don't you agree Dr. Grant."

Sonic was rubbing his temple trying to fight down the headache that was forming, "I suppose you are correct in some ways."

"Dr. Malcolm," Hammond smiled, "Is a man of strong opinions,"

"And mad as a hatter I believe you called me five years ago," Malcolm said cheerfully, "You must admit, we live in a world of frightful givens. In the information society nobody thinks. We expected to banish paper, but we actually banished thought."

Grant let out a quiet groan, and Hammond looked at Gennaro, his hands raised, and whispered "You invited him."

Gennaro flashed a look, "What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed

Hammond gestured to Grant and Sattler, "I invited scientists, and you invited a crazy critic!"

Malcolm heard, "And a lucky thing too, because it sounds as if you have a serious problem."

Sattler leaned in, "Hmm, what do you mean?"

"Well" Malcolm said, "I predicted it from the beginning, that the island was unworkable." He reached into his leather briefcase, "And trust me, the eventual outcome of this is you will have to shut the island down."

"Shut it down!" Hammond stood angrily, "That's ridiculous!"

Malcolm shrugged, "I brought copies of my original report. The mathematics are bit sticky, but I can walk you through it."

"I have phone calls to make," Hammond said suddenly, and he left to the next cabin.

"Well it's a long flight," Malcolm said to the others, "at least my paper will give you something to look at."