Chapter two – Operation Embryo

Nedry's room was dark and dreary, and the walls covered with Star Trek and Xena posters. Nedry was lying outstretched on his bed, a mass of excess flesh with a distinctly unsettling look on his face. He grinned once in the darkness, and then pulled out a sheaf of notes from under his bed, flicked through intently.

From:
Lewis Dodgson

Mr. Nedry,
I am very pleased we could arrange the meeting and that you were able to attend so promptly. As always, it was a pleasure to meet with you and lay at rest my concerns about our project.

Nedry sneered. Dodgson could be so slimy.

Our boat is arriving at the dock every day at 18:00, leaving at 19:00. We request you reach our deadline for Operation Embryo by next week. The investors of Biosyn are getting concerned. We cannot afford a delay.

Sincerely,
Lewis Dodgson

Nedry sighed irritably. No one trusted him to get anything right. Hammond and Arnold, the Park's technician, always thought he was screwing something up with the system, and Dodgson was worried that Nedry wouldn't make the deadline.

But all that was going to change. He was going to get what he deserved at last. Money, and lots of it. He'd had enough of Ingen and the Jurassic Park project. Lots of work had been heaped on to him, debugging countless files, starting new programmes, creating entirely new types of software. It was a hell of a job, and he got virtually no help from anyone else, and he was expected to do it all by a rapidly approaching deadline and on, what he thought was, a pretty mediocre salary. So when Dodgson approached him with a proposition that promised a lot of financial reward, he was more than happy to oblige with any form of treachery.

His phone rang. He picked it up and heard Arnold's voice on the other end/
"Dennis, what the hell is happening to the auto-food dispensers?"
"Dunno", Dennis yawned, "What are they doing?"
"I'll tell you what they're doing", Arnold snapped, "They keep shutting off and powering down. The damn Dinos are starving and we have to go around manually shutting the feeders back on!"

A sly smile appeared on Nedry's fat features. He wondered if anyone realized that he'd screwed up the system on purpose, so that if things went wrong that he'd be the only one who could fix it. It was, in a way, his trademark or his graffiti tag.
"That's Harding's problem, not mine", was all he said.
"No, it's your bloody problem too", Arnold shouted, "You designed the software, you get your fat ass down here and fix it. A bunch of starving Dinos will cause more trouble than a well-fed one. What if the Rex goes on a rampage and Muldoon has to go in and tranq it? He won't be happy".
"Alright, alright, I'll come down now. Jesus", Nedry put the phone down.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a mangled up candy bar that he'd managed to wrestle free from the vending machine after an exhausting and, to everyone else at least, amusing hour. He chewed on it thoughtfully. He was fed up with this place, he was fed up with the staff, he was fed up with the Dinosaurs and most of all he was fed up with John Hammond.

He stood up and crossed to the window, watching the rain pound endlessly onto the glass. There was a flash of lightning followed by the crack of thunder nearby. Far away, as if in answer, he heard a deep-throated roar that made him shudder and chilled his bones to the marrow.