Chapter 2

Life at the Edge of Chaos

The Santa Fe Institute is famous for being housed in a series of buildings on Canyon Road which had formerly been a convent, and the Institute's seminars were held in a room which had served as a chapel. Now, standing at the podium, with a shaft of sunlight shining down on him, Shadow Malcolm paused before continuing his lecture.

Shadow was thirty-six years old, and a regular visitor at the Institute. He had been one of the early pioneers in the chaos theory, but his promising career had been disrupted by a severe – but rather mysterious – injury during a trip to Costa Rica; Malcolm had, in fact, been reported dead, in several newscasts. "I was sorry to cut short the celebrations and the parties in the mathematics departments around the country," he later stated, "but it turned out I was only slightly dead. The surgeons have done wonders, as they will be the first to tell you. So now I am back – in my next iteration, you might say."

Dressed entirely in black, leaning on the podium, Shadow gave the audience and impression of severity. He was known within the Institute for his unconventional analysis, and his tendency to pessimism. His talk that was entitled 'Life at the Edge of Chaos' was typical of his thinking. As Malcolm presented his analysis of chaos theory as it applied to evolution.

"Of the self – organizing behaviors," Shadow Malcolm said, "two are of particular interest to the study of evolution. One is adaptation. We see it everywhere. Brain cells adapt to signal traffic, the immune system adapts to infection, animals adapt to their food supply."

He shifted his weight from his weaker left to his right leg,. "But even more important," he said, "is the way complex systems seem to strike a balance between the need for order, and the imperative to change. Complex systems tend to locate themselves at a place we call 'the edge of chaos' we imagine the edge of chaos as a place where there is enough innovation to keep a living system vibrant, and enough stability to keep it from collapsing. Finding the balance point must be a delicate matter – if a living system drifts too close, it risks falling over the incoherence and dissolution; but if the system moves too far from the edge, it becomes rigid, frozen, and totalitarian. Both conditions lead to extinction. Too much change is as destructive as too little. Only at the edge of chaos can complex systems flourish."

He paused, "And, by implication, extinction is the inevitable result of one or the other strategy – too much change, or too little."

In the audience, heads were nodding. This was familiar thinking to most of the researchers present. Indeed, the concept of the edge of chaos was very nearly dogma at the Santa Fe Institute.

"Unfortunately," Malcolm continued, "the gap between this theoretical construct and the fact of extinction is vast. We have no way to know if our thinking is correct. The fossil record can tell us that an animal became extinct at a certain time, but not why. And I wonder how it is to be solved it- Yes? What is it?"

At the back of the room, a hand had gone up, waving impatiently. Shadow frowned, visibly annoyed. The tradition at the Institute was that questions were held until the presentation ended; it was poor form to interrupt a speaker. "You had a question?" Malcolm asked.

From the back of the room, a middle-aged male in his early thirties stood. "Actually," the man said, "an observation."

The speaker was bright green, and large – a crocodile. He was wearing dark khaki pants and top, black and yellow boots, white gloves with black and white armbands. He also seemed to be wearing what looked like black and yellow headphones, which was rather an odd piece of attire to be wearing at such a prestigious place. The headphones sat comfortably around the crocodile's neck.

The crocodile was precise in his movements and manner. Malcolm recognized him as a paleontologist from Berkeley, named Vector Levine, who was spending the summer at the Institute. Shadow had never spoken to him, but he knew his reputation: Levine was generally agreed to be the best paleobiologist of his generation. He was famous for his work in Downunda. However, most people at the Institute disliked him, finding him pompous and arrogant. Shadow was quickly on his way to joining those group of people.

"I agree," Levine, continued, "That the fossil record is not helpful in addressing extinction. Particularly if your thesis is that behavior is the cause of extinction – because bones do not tell us much about behavior. However, I disagree that your behavioral thesis is un-testable. In fact, it implies an outcome. Although perhaps, you haven't thought of it."

The room was deathly silent. At the podium, Malcolm blinked, and then frowned. The eminent mathematician was not accustomed to being told he had not thought through his ideas. "My I ask your point," he responded coolly.

Levine appeared indifferent to the tension in the room. "Just this," he said. "During the Cretaceous, Dinosauria were widely distributed across the planet. We have found their remains on every continent, and in every climate zone – including the Antarctic. Now, if their extinction was really the result of their behavior, and not the consequence of a catastrophe, or a disease, or a change in plant life, or any of the other broad scale explanations that have been proposed. Then it seems to me, highly unlikely that they all changed their behavior at the same time, everywhere, And that in turn means that there may well be some remnants of these animals still alive on the earth. Why couldn't you look for them?"

"You could," Malcolm said coldly, "if that amused you. And if you had no more compelling use for your time."

"No, no," Levine said earnestly. "I'm quite serious. What if the dinosaurs did not become extinct? What if they still exist? Somewhere in an isolated spot on the planet."

"You're talking about, a Lost World," Shadow said slowly. Heads in the room nodded knowingly. Scientists at the Institute had developed a shorthand for referring to common evolutionary scenarios. They spoke of the Field of Bullets, the Game of Life, the Lost World, and the Black Noise. These were well-defined ways of thinking about evolution. But they were all-

"No," Levine said stubbornly, "I am speaking literally."

"Then you're badly deluded," Malcolm said, with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned away from the audience, and walked to the blackboard. "Now if we consider the implications of the edge of life? Most contemporary definitions of life would include the presence of DNA, but there are two examples, which suggest to us that this definition is too narrow. If you consider viruses and so – called prions, it is clear that life may in fact exist without DNA…."

At the back of the room, Levine stared for a moment. Then, reluctantly, he sat down, and began to make notes.

The lecture ended, Shadow walked across the open courtyard of the Institute, it was shortly after noon. Walking beside him was Rouge Harding, a young field biologist visiting from Africa. Malcolm had known her for several years, since he had been asked to serve as an outside reader for her doctoral thesis at Berkeley.

Crossing the courtyard in the hot summer sun, the made an unlikely pair: Malcolm dark, and all dressed in black. Harding, her fur stark white against Malcolm's dark fur, looking energetic in shorts and a tee shirt, her short white hair pushed up on her forehead with sunglasses. Her field of study was African predators, lions and hyenas. She was scheduled to return to Nairobi the next day.

The story was that the two had been close since Malcolm's surgery. Harding had been on a leave from her work for a year in Austin, and had helped nurse Malcolm back to health, after his many operations. For a while, it seemed as if a romance had blossomed, and that Malcolm, a confirmed bachelor, would settle down. But then Harding had gone back to Africa, and Malcolm had gone to Santa Fe. Whatever their former relationship had been, they were now just friends.

They discussed the questions that had come at the end of his lecture. From Malcolm's point of view, there had been only the predictable objections: the mass extinctions were important; that humans owed their existence to the Cretaceous periods, which had wiped out the dinosaurs and allowed mammals to take over. As one questioner had pompously phrased it, "The Cretaceous allowed our own sentient awareness to arise on the planet."

Malcolm's reply was immediate: "What makes you think human beings are sentient and aware? And even anthros for that matter? There is no evidence for it. Human beings never think for themselves, they find it too uncomfortable. For the most part, members of our species simply repeat what they are told – and become upset if they are exposed to any different view. I see no reason to assume we have any awareness at all. Both species are stubborn, self – destructive conformists. Any other view of species is just a delusion. Next question."

Now walking across the courtyard, Rouge Harding laughed, "They didn't care much for that."

"I admit, I can be rather discouraging," Shadow sighed, "But it can't be helped." He shook his head, "These are some of the best scientists in the country, and still…no interesting ideas. By the way, what's the story on that guy who interrupted me?"

"Vector Levine?" she chuckled. "Irritating bastard, isn't he? He has a world-wide reputation for being an pain in the ass."

Shadow grunted, "I'd say."

"He's wealthy, is the problem," Rouge said. "You know about the Becky dolls?"

"No." he said, giving her a glance.

"Well, every little girl in the country does. There's a series: Becky and Sally and Frances and several more. They're Americana dolls. Vector is the heir of the company, he's a smartass rich kid. Impetuous, does whatever he wants.

Shadow nodded, "You have time for lunch?"

"Sure, I would be-"

"Dr. Malcolm! Wait up! Excuse me! Dr. Malcolm!"

Shadow glanced back. Hurrying across the courtyard toward them was the large figure of Vector Levine.

"Ah, shit," Shadow hissed.

"Dr. Malcolm," Levine said, coming up. "I was surprised that you didn't take my proposal more seriously."

"How could I?" Shadow said, "It's absurd."

"Yes, but-"

"Ms. Harding and I were just going to lunch," Malcolm said, gesturing to Rouge.

Levine turned to her, "Ms. Harding, as in Rouge Harding? Daughter of Silver Harding?"

Rouge nodded. "Yes."

He shook her hand, "Pleasure to meet you." He turned back to Malcolm, "Yes, but I think you should reconsider," Levine said, pressing on. "Because I believe my argument is valid – it is entirely possible, even likely, that dinosaurs still exist. You must know there are persistent rumors about animals in Costa Rica, where I believe you have spent time."

Malcolm's eyes narrowed, "Yes, and in the case of Costa Rica I can tell you-"

"Also in the Congo," Levine said, continuing. "For many years there have been reports by pygmies of a large Sauropod, perhaps even an apatosaur, in the dense forests. And also in the high jungles of Irian Jaya, there is supposedly an animal the side of a rhino, which perhaps is a remnant ceratopsian-"

"Fantasy," Malcolm said. "Pure fantasy. Nothing has ever been seen. No photographs. No hard evidence."

"Perhaps not," Levine said. "But the absence of proof is not proof of absence. I believe there may well be a locus of these animals, survivals from a past time."

Malcolm shrugged. "Anything is possible," he said.

"But the point of fact, survival is possible," Levine insisted "I keep getting calls about new animals in Costa Rica. Remnants, fragments."

Malcolm paused. "Recently?"

"Not for awhile."

"Ummm," Malcolm said, "I thought so."

"That last call was nine months ago," Levine said. "I was in Siberia looking at that frozen baby mammoth, and I couldn't get back in time. But I'm told it was some kind of very large, atypical lizard, found dead in the jungle of Costa Rica."

"And? What happened to it?"

"The remains were burned."

"So nothing is left?"

"That's right."

"No photographs? No proof?"

"Apparently not."

"So it's just a story," Malcolm said.

"Perhaps. But I believe it is worth mounting an expedition, to find out about these reported survivals."

Malcolm stared at him. "An expedition? To find a hypothetical Lost World? Who is going to pay for it?"

"I am," Levine said. "I have already begun the preliminary planning."

"But that could cost-"

"I don't care what it costs," Levine said. "That fact is, survival is possible, it has occurred in a variety of species from other genera, and it may be that there are survivals from the Cretaceous as well."

"Fantasy," Malcolm said again, shaking his head.

Levine paused, and stared at Malcolm. "Dr. Malcolm," he said, "I'm must say I'm very surprised at your attitude. You've just present a thesis and I am offering you a chance to prove it. I would have thought you'd jump at the opportunity."

"My jumping days are over," Malcolm said.

"But instead of taking me up on this, you-"

"I'm not interested in dinosaurs," Malcolm said.

"But everyone is interested in dinosaurs."

"Not me." He turned, and started to walk off.

"By the way," Levine said. "What were you doing in Costa Rica? I heard you were there for almost a year."

"I was lying a hospital bed. They couldn't even move me out of intensive care for six months. I couldn't even get on a plane."

"Yes," Levine said, "I know you got hurt. But what were you doing there in the first place? Weren't you looking for dinosaurs?"

Malcolm stopped walking, he looked back, squinting at him in the bright son, leaning on his right leg. "No," he said. "I wasn't."

...

Okay, blah, sorry this took so long. As some of you know, my internet was going crazy, then fanfiction deleted the orginal.

*Sigh*

But I'm back, this chapter is a short as...well. It is short. And it's rather dull, just some science, back stories and chitter chatter. But it is a chapter isn't it? It's good to be back though, and I'll post the next chapter as soon as I can.

Luv you all!