Chapter 2
Of Promises and Dreams
The wooden door to the meeting room crept open and a young man stuck his head out.
"They're ready for you, Mr. Hammond."
"Splendid," Hammond responded, standing promptly, proudly entering the room unaided.
In front of Hammond lay a table of twenty or so men in business suits. Their eyes moved up from the packets that lay before them and onto Hammond who was now accompanied by a young Asian man.
"Good evening, gentlemen. My name is John Hammond. This is my partner in this venture, Dr. Wu, the world famous geneticist. Helped map the human genome. We asked you here to talk to you today about the proposal of a life time–the one that you all have a copy of. I trust you've all had a chance to look through Proposal CPSD by now. Are there any questions before we begin?"
A few of the investors fidgeted in their seats, anxious or bored, John couldn't tell which. A hand rose from the back.
"Yes, you sir in the back."
The man in his late twenties leaned forward, running his hand through his full head of hair, and began to speak.
"Mr. Hammond is it? I represent the interests of a BioGenetics company interested in helping you with your proposal. We are curious though, where did you get the viable material?"
"Well, good sir," Hammond began, "that's the trick isn't it Mr-"
"Dodgeson."
"Dodgeson," Hammond smiled. He could tell he liked this mans ingenuity. Hammond could tell instantly about people in this way.
"You see, if I tell you that, what's to stop you from doing it yourself?"
"If it were only that easy, My. Hammond."
The group chuckled and Hammond motioned for Wu to take the lead.
"Well, Mr. Dodgeson, our process is quite simple. We have already leased an island off the coast of Costa Rica in which Hammond Construction has begun building a facility in which we plan to manufacture the animals and study them in a natural environment–to aid our understanding of the animals. Initial yields will be low, hence why we have the proposal before you. We plan to build a Cretaceous Park in San Diego. This facility will be small, and limited, but it will ultimately be the starting point of a world wide phenomenon that you are being given the chance to become involved in."
The group seemed impressed but were still obviously cautious.
"You asked how we got the viable material. At the moment, that information is still classified."
The investors fidgeted. One raised his hand with some obvious distrust in his eye.
"Mr. Hammond, you want us to believe that you can do this, yet you present us with no proof?"
Hammond's face contorted into a smile that twitched with anticipation.
"Timmy," Hammond called out.
From the hall entered a small boy of four to five. Decked out in complete Jurassic Park attire, Tim Murphy entered the room cradling a pillow in his arms.
"What's that you've got for us, there?" Hammond asked, getting down on one knee.
"A Dinosaur," Timmy replied, turning to the investors.
Sure enough, there it lay: she laid to be more exact.
"What is it, Timmy?"
"It's a newborn Velociraptor antirrhopus ."
A squeak issued from the pillow as the new born rolled to the side, lifting its head into view.
Everyone in the room stood to get a better look.
The dinosaur, which had been lying in a fetal position, stretched out upon the pillow, looking around, squawking at the group.
Hammond smiled, fiendishly, then, wiping it from his face began to speak.
"Any questions?"
Within the hour, Hammond and Wu had convinced nearly all the investors in the room: Cray, Apple Computers, Silicon Graphics, Nishihara, SVS, Jeep, and Ford had all signed off as donors of equipment and limited investors to help start out the company.
Hammond shook the hands of all the investors as they left the office, thanking them for their time. Finally, one man walked up to him.
"Mr. Hammond, I was thoroughly impressed by your well thought out proposal and study. I am curious. Do you have a genetics company to work for you?"
John turned to Wu, patting him on the shoulder.
"This is my Genetics Company. He and his team have done wonders for me in the past several years. We've nearly completely replicated the first pure batch of DNA."
"So what we saw today? Was it a dinosaur?"
"Yes, oh yes." John quickly interjected.
"But," Wu hesitated, "it wasn't pure. It was only about 60 pure genetic material. It will survive another week or so before it dies."
"I see. And how far are you from finishing."
Hammond's smile faded and he took a step back.
"Well," Wu began, "another sixteen months."
The elderly man looked on with slight delight.
"What if I told you I own a small genetics company that I've been trying to sell for a year or two now."
Hammond looked to Wu who stared on towards the man curiously.
"Just think, you'd have an entire company working at your disposal."
Mr. Hammond's face lit up with glee. He'd wanted to expand the genetics division but had hesitated in creating his own company.
"It's called BioGen. Perhaps we could talk further about this over dinner?" The man asked. Hammond smiled and replied.
"Of course!"
Several months and many dinners latter, Hammond finally bought out BioGen, changing the name to InGen. InGen quickly became the leading Genetics company in the world, taking large contracts from several large drug companies while maintaining the pandora secret dream of Hammond: to build a Dinosaur park.
The dream of Hammonds was sparked in that moment. The spark then became a fire that spread. Cretacious Park: San Diego, mid consctrution, was discontinued and Isla Nublar was purchased and the name changed to Jurassic Park. Hammond poured massive amount of resources into the venture, sparing no expence.
The park was themed to attract children of all ages. Hammond's dream was to fill the park with wide-eyed tourists, igniting the fire in their own imaginations as it had in his own.
"Mr. Nesky will see you now, Chancellor," the desk clerk announced, poking her head out of InGen's CEO's office.
"Thank you, madam," Chancellor John Hillman said, standing from his chair, briefcase in hand.
The original accident on Isla Nublar put InGen in a terrible financial status. Between multiple lawsuits, payoffs, and the strangely high destruction costs of the island, InGen had very little money and very little buying power. This caused great fear in the corporation towards a possible sellout to BioSyn, InGen's only true competitor in those years, but to the great surprise of InGen, BioSyn suffered from great losses in that time attributed to a loss of interest by investors and as some leaked, a get rich quick scheme that never paid.
After an attempt made by the newly elected CEO Peter Ludlow came back with more loss than the company could handle–not to mention lawsuits of all kinds because of the infamous 'San Diego Incident'–the company quickly filed for Chapter 11 reorganization. The UN then stepped in and took joint ownership of InGen's assets, sharing responsibility with the company for the well being of the islands claiming that the animals were "truly unique and owned by the entire world." InGen reorganized and changed its direction more towards agricultural development, which was then sold, mostly to the Costa Rican government which had born the brunt of InGen's destructive power.
After Peter Ludlows' death, the power of the company fell like burning embers around the investors desk until it landed in the lap of one of the toughest skinned men alive: Richard Nesky.
Nesky had always been second in command and after the fall of Nublar, his persuit of the office drove him nearly to the brink. He headed the decomission of Nublar, which again, drew large critisim for it's heafty price tag.
The one thing that kept Nesky around was that he was charmer. His good looks and positive attitude won many an investor over. Those who knew him personally knew he was a dark man, capable of extreme power. Closed doors and secrets fed the rhumors. Fear is what kept him in office. And he liked it that way.
"Chancellor Hilman, what a pleasant surprise! How are you doing today," Richard asked, extending his hand fourth from behind his desk.
"I'm doing well, thank you Mr. Nesky–"
"Please: Richard will do. Now, may I get you something to drink?" he asked, motioning to the cabinet.
"Just a cup of tea please–"
"Jenna!" Richard yelled into the speaker phone on his desk.
"Yes, Mr. Nesky?"
"Get Mr. Hilman a tea, pronto."
"Right away, Mr. Nesky."
"Ah," Richard sighed leaning back into his padded leather chair.
"Now, Chancellor, why is it that you grace me with your presence?"
John moved forward in his chair, opened his briefcase on his lap and pulled out a packet of paper and a stapled document.
"As you know, Mr. Nesky, InGen has been granted permission to stay in business for the soul purpose of protecting the islands and repaying your debt through profits made in your non-genetic ventures. You know as well as I do how many companies would have given anything to get those islands if InGen had lost the ownership over them. I have some news from the UN for you about what will be going on within the next month."
Nesky shifted in his chair uneasily but continues to rock slowly back and fourth with his hands folded neatly in front of him.
"The UN took a vote three days ago and this vote ensures the islands temporary protection."
"Temporary?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, temporary. The UN has also decided that to further ascertain the safety of the island chain, an investigative team is to be sent to the islands. Its job will be to assess the safety of these islands and the threat they pose to the world ecosystem not to mention human population. This expedition, though, as agreed upon in a contract signed by InGen almost five years ago, states that any activity dealing with the islands will not entirely be funded by the UN; but rather, be co-funded by InGen. Or," John hesitated, "the UN will receive in full the payment of debt, by InGen."
Richards face had continued to contort from a calm, orderly look, to a new, infuriated grimace.
"Well," he began sharply, "this is an odd turn in events. As you are aware, you will get full cooperation from InGen and it's subsidiaries. Is there anything else you need to tell me?"
John could sense the anger in Richard and knew the chat was over.
"No, Mr. Nesky. That will be quite alright for now. I will leave you with the documentation on the expedition: expenses, equipment, personnel, etc. And also a copy of the current InGen stock. Study them well, Mr. Nesky. The UN is not to be toyed with."
"Thank you Chancellor. I will be sure to hand these over to the board. I will see you out."
With that, the two men walked to the door. The door opened and Jenna walked in with a cup of tea.
Richard escorted John to the now open door. They shook hands and John exited the room, taking a quick sip of tea. Jenna quickly followed closing the door.
"Hurricane Miriam is now moving south-west along the coast of Costa Rica," the tv anchorman said, waving his hand over a 3D map generated behind him with a fan off screen blowing his comb-over hair around in a torrent.
"Darn special effect," Cody Livingston stated, taking his feet off the table and leaning toward the tv to turn it off. Cody was a greying haired man of nearly fifty. He worked in the main office of the Costa Rican Coast Guard and had been working there for nearly twenty years. In that time he'd seen everything in the book. Everything from freak waterspouts to shark attacks. Once he even had to deal with a hysterical fisherman screaming over the radio that he'd caught a monster.
"Cody, we've got trouble," interrupted Manuel, Cody's assistant with his head popped in the door.
"About ten minuets ago we got a hail from a large cargo vessel who's engines mysteriously cut out," he said, walking Cody into a room bustling with people. He opened the drawer of his desk and unwrapped a map.
"This is where the hurricane is right now," he said pointing to an area west of Costa Rica, over the Pacific Ocean.
"This is where they are. With their engines out, all we can do is wait and hope that they don't run a ground."
"Get a helicopter ready. I want a team out there as soon as possible. I want some boats in the area incase we need backup and incase they decide to abandon ship. Suit up people."
Thirty minuets latter, the group was in the helicopter and heading towards the boat's last known coordinates. The mood was tense. Sea rescues, especially during a hurricane were notoriously dangerous. And if the ship had grounded then finding survivors quickly would be a top priority.
"Sir," the pilot yelled, "we can't contact the boat and we're almost on top of her."
"We may be too late," Manuel yelled in Cody's ear.
Outside the wind was howling in the torrential rain. Everyone had to yell just to be heard over the roar of the rain pounding against the metal shell of the helicopter.
The team looked out the window at the barely visible ocean below. The copter circled around two more times in slightly wider arcs.
"Head toward the shore line and follow it south," Cody yelled to the pilot.
"Yes sir," he responded, turning the helicopter to the left.
"There!" the captain yelled, pointing out into the fog.
The ship had grounded.
The waves crashed against the side of the boat, pushing it further into the jagged rocks of the ocean front. The hull had multiple punctures and the stern lay beached on the shore, the cargo bay doors ripped open and debris scattered in the surf.
The helicopter circled the ship, surveying the area. The ground around the stranded cargo vessel lay littered with crates and boxes, metal poles and wires: not entirely uncommon shipping equipment.
The helicopter slowly descended lower towards the deck to check for signs of life, then began to land on the deck. An updraft hit the helicopter lifting it back into the air towards the command tower of the cargo ship. The pilot swung the copter around and back, missing the tower. He tried to land the helicopter again when the air sank, dropping it onto the deck, where it bounced into the air again, only to be pummeled by a wave coming over the side of the ship.
"We can't land here," Cody yelled.
"Bring us out of the storm. We'll have to wait it out."
With a sigh, the crew looked back upon the vessel dying in the surf, its hull punctured numerous times and shrouded in a blanket of fog. It looked like a ghost ship and it probably was. The more Cody thought about the crash, the more he realized no one could have survived.
"Here I go," Alan stated, tapping his hand on the secretaries desk.
Working as a tour guide at the Museum of the Rockies wasn't much but it was enough to have bought a small house, a truck, his meals, and a plane ticket back a day late: all the things a man could ask for.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, " Alan began, getting a large groups attention.
"Welcome to the Museum of the Rockies. My name is Alan, and I have the pleasure of being your tour guide today. I will be walking you through the museum and its exhibits. This way please," he finished, motioning off to the left.
"Welcome to the 'One Place Through all Time:' our planetarium. There are shows every hour which start off from the beginning of time and last through to our present state. Everything from the Big Bang to the formation of the planets to a present day meteor shower.
"This next exhibit is the 'Time Room.' Here, this clock you see is ticking. For times sake, we pretend that every second is a year, and every minuet is sixty years. Now, in order for the clock to tick enough times for it to be the Earth's age it would take–any guesses?"
The kids erupted into a cacophony of nonsense answers.
"20 minuets?"
"Two weeks?"
"A million-bagillion years!"
Alan laughed, "Close. Here's a hint: One hundred and forty-six years! It's that old!"
Several moans of awe could be heard even among the parents, who looked at eachother amused.
"We continue on through to the kinetic rolling ball. This represents the changes in seasons on the Earth such as food, water, and rock cycles. Next, over here we have land and life forms. You may stop in here and look at the intricate exhibits depicting life millions of years ago. There is a short movie on Pangea as well," he said pointing off to a room.
"And now to the exciting part. Some 68 million years ago, dinosaurs roamed the Earth. Some of these animals were mean, and some were nice. Some were swift and intelligent, and some were slow and dumb."
"Sir," a little boy asked, raising his hand.
"Yes?"
"Do we know what dinosaurs really looked like? Do they really look like the dinosaurs in this exhibit?"
Alan almost answered 'no, they would be jumping off their stands and eating you,,' when he realized he couldn't say that without blowing his cover.
"Well, son, dinosaurs died off millions of years ago. They didn't have cameras back then, and there were no, Lizard-arno Divinchi's back then either, so we don't know exactly what they look like–"
"What about those dinosaurs on the island?" an adult male voice called out from the back, jocularly.
"Those animals," Alan paused, taking in a breath and attempting to steady his voice, "are genetically recreated. They is no way to know how accurate those 'representations' of nature are or if they aren't just what the scientists wanted them to look like."
"But sir," the little boy who'd asked the question earlier said, tugging on Alan's pocket, "what if they wanted them to be real?"
Alan thought to himself for a second not knowing how to answer the child when another voice called out.
"Wait a minute! You're Dr. Alan Grant! You've been to the island! You know what they look like!" and all at once, the tour group went into an uproar of voices, all calling out for autographs and pictures.
"Please, please!" Alan yelled out to the group, trying to regain calm.
"Alan? What's going on?" a man from behind asked.
The crowd had a collective hush and parted out of his way.
"Dr. Horner. Good'ay. You seem to have caught me in the middle of an autograph session."
"I see. Ladies and Gentlemen, we ask that you refrain from asking Dr. Grant for his autograph till after the tour. It can be bothersome to the others here and can potentially get someone hurt. If you would like and if Dr. Grant wants to, he can give you one after the tour."
"Thank you, Jack," Alan sighed.
"No problem, Alan."
"There you are, have a good day now," Alan said, signing the last autograph. He finally was on break.
"Doris, Coffee–black," Alan announced to the desk clerk who nodded and poured him a cup.
He was tired from working all day. He'd been recognized by nine people in the last week alone with no good end in sight.
He was tired of being envied. Yes, he'd seen the animals, but he'd seen the death and destruction too. If those people could only know what it was like to be there, to be running for your life from something as cunning and intelligent as you, they would think twice.
"Alan," called a voice from down the hall.
"Billy? Hey! How are you?"
"I'm doing well, how are you doing?"
"Oh, just tired, Billy. Only society would envy people going to the worst place in the world."
"I know what you mean, Alan. I've had more girlfriends now than I did before," Billy laughed.
Alan drank his coffee and smiled lightly. It was good to see Billy again.
"So what have you been up to?" Alan asked.
"The usual: college, chicks...women," he said laughing.
"Still digging?"
"Not so much anymore, though I hope to start up again after the trip."
"Where to?"
"I thought you knew?"
Alan put the coffee cup down and looked at Billy strangely.
"What do you mean–"
"Aren't you going on it too?"
Alan's face contorted and his heart sank. Billy couldn't have been invited along. Alan wondered what skills Billy had that would make him a candidate.
"Why did they contact you?"
"Good to see I have your confidence, Alan," Billy jested as Alan looked on, frowning.
"Sarah Harding was asked to go but she couldn't fly out of Kenya in time–doing a documentary. Besides, Ian wouldn't let her. So she requested I be sent in her place. I took a course with her and she knew me through you. She knew that I could study the behavior using the methods she taught me. And besides, we aren't even going to land on the island."
"I still don't want you to go," Alan blurted out at Billy, stubbornly.
"Alan don't worry. We'll be fine."
"I don't approve of this at all. I can get you removed from this. Remember last time!"
"Of course I do, Alan. I still have some scars. But we aren't even going to be near them. We'll be safe in the helicopter."
"I still don't–" Alan trailed off. He looked passed Billy and out the windows where a white bearded man hobbled in with an entourage of nurses.
"Mr. Hammond?"
An hour of waiting and Cody's helicopter finally could land. By then, trucks had pulled up along the beach wrought with what looked like a militia: an assortment of men with guns.
"My name is Cody Livingston," he announced to the man in charge as he got out of the helicopter.
"My group and I are here from the Coast Guard. We were called out to check on the situation."
The man stood for a moment showing in his face that he didn't understand.
Cody then realized he had spoken to the man in Spanish and not English.
"My apologies, Senor. My name is Cody. I'm here from the Coast Guard. We were called out earlier and were told your ship had engine problems. We believe that the storm may have caused the crash."
"Yes. Perhaps," the man answered almost muttering to himself.
"I'm sorry, and you are?"
"Muldoon. James Muldoon. I'm here from the company that owns the cargo and we are suppose to pick it up but it–"
"Well, Senor, I'm sorry but I can't let you do that for another twenty-four hours due to regulations. We need to clean and catagorize and do all the paperwork as well. Did any of the crew survive?"
Muldoon stood there silently and shook his head. His eyes never once met Cody's. James Muldoon was constantly looking around and past him.
"I understand," Muldoon started, "but there was live cargo on board. It needs to be taken out of here soon."
The wind began to pick up in the already dreary sky. The trees began to rustle and the rain, caught in the wind, began to fall harder. Cody noticed the face on James grow to a horrified, pale white.
"Senor, are you ok?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes. I'll be fine. I want everyone off this beach though. Some of the live animals were dangerous. Until we have them all accounted for, I'd like to keep everyone out of harms way. I suggest you take your crew out of here: I can control the situation. We have legal advisors and some local government here. We can take it from here."
"I understand, Senor. What sort of animals were on board?"Cody asked, his interest peaked.
Muldoon hesitated, then looked at Cody in the eyes for the first time.
"Lions," he stated, taking a breath, "and tigers."
Cody nodded and called out to his men. It was apparent to Cody that they weren't going to be of any assistance.
The helicopter took off from the boat and began to ascent into the air. Cody watched as the men below began to scamper around. They were acting suspicious: especially Muldoon. Something was out of place. He looked down at the business card Muldoon had given him. In big letters it read:
BioSyn
Your Past and Future: Now
Richard stood at the head of the table lined with chairs of advisors and their staff. He had called for a last minute meeting of the investors to deal with the new demands of the UN.
"I have called you here tonight to inform you of a new plan of the UN," Richard began.
"The island chain will now be under a scrutinizing investigation by a special task force designated by the UN."
There was a collective gasp as the investors shifted in their seats.
"We all planned for such a contingency, and plan B has now been put into effect. We must pay for our share of the expedition, and lie low. One problem persists: even with selling a substantial amount of our stock, InGen would not be able to cover the cost. I have therefore taken the liberty to create a list of what each one of us will have to sell," Richard explained, passing out a stack of paper, "and how much of our personal wealth we will each have to give."
"Wait, Richard, let me get this straight," a man at the table broke in, leaning into the middle of the table to look Richard in the eyes.
"I have to give my money for this adventure! I have to sell what–what does this say? My second house in Bermuda! This is outrageous. How can you make these demands?"
Richard stood silent for a moment, picked up a piece of paper and read aloud.
"Article four of an agreement between the UN and InGen made October 22nd, 1999: Any expenditures made on behalf of the islands in any form will be paid for in half or more, as determined by the UN, by the party of the second: InGen."
"And if I quit?"
"Then InGen will sue you for breach of contract you lousy son of a bitch," Richard snapped, throwing the papers onto the table.
"You know as well as I do that if any of us backs out of this, InGen will be caught. We can't allow for that! If we don't give into the demands of the UN, they will take all of this away and realize what's been going on these four years and put every single one of us in jail! It's either your house, or your life."
With that, the conference room grew silent. The man sitting at the table leaned back into his chair silent.
"People, people," Richard said pleadingly, "don't forget why you elected me CEO. And don't forget the plan. Sacrifice a little now, and at the end, InGen will be paying you back ten fold if not more.
"I promise."
"My dear boy, Alan. How are you?"
"Good, John," Alan replied, helping John to sit in the chair at the small café where he and Billy had been sitting.
John's white hair was thinning and his face had begun to look tired and lifeless. John was getting older and Alan knew the pleading look in John's eyes as those from an anguished soul.
"And yourself, John?"
"Oh, I've been getting older and liking it less," he replied with a cough and slight grin.
"Not like I used to be. That is actually why I came to see you."
"Why is that?" Alan asked leaning in towards John.
"You see, I'm not as dumb as these doctors think I am. I know I'm dying–"
"Oh John," Alan interrupted.
"No, no, no! I know I am. I've also had a lot of time to look back on my life. Then I heard that you were in charge of an expedition to my islands. I have a favor to ask of you."
"I really shouldn't discuss this, John," Alan started, but was interrupted. John wasn't listening.
"I want you to make them protect the islands. The animals deserve to live. We breathed life into fossils, and they walked, and ran, and broke free like children will do! They are the relics of the ancient world and the dreams of childhood. We must preserve them. You must do all you can to save them. They're my children."
"Mr. Hammond, the decision is not mine to make. The UN will decide based on the expeditions findings on how safe the animals are to the environment. Don't forget, these are wild, living things that if they ever made it to the mainland, they could bring about horrible deaths to innocent people."
"Hmph," Mr. Hammond laughed slightly to himself.
"You see, Dr. Grant. These animals were made for the soul purpose to please the public. They are one of a kind, and rare indeed: as rare as the DNA we found to clone them. I wanted something that was real and something that people could come up and touch and know for sure it was real. Even if they can't do that physically as I had originally dreamed, they may do so now through the knowledge that the island exists and that there is still mystery in the world.
"Please. Alan. Do what you can. Bring back photographs and information on them. Correct the text books. Make the world know that Dinosaurs are here. Make my dream, my life-long work, come true. I'm too old to do this anymore." he trailed off, his eyes glazing over.
"You're my last hope."