"Do something, Timmy," Lex said.
He pushed SETGRIDS DNL, even though it was flashing.
The screen answered:
WARNING: COMMAND EXECUTION ABORTED (AUX POWER LOW)
"What does that mean?" Tim said.
Gennaro snapped his fingers. "That happened before. It means auxiliary power is low. You have to turn on main power."
"I do?"
He pushed ELECTRICAL MAIN.
[picture]
Tim groaned.
"What are you doing now?" Grant said. The whole screen was starting to flash.
Tim pushed MAIN.
Nothing happened. The screen continued to flash.
Tim pushed MAIN GRID P. He felt sick to his stomach with fear.
MAIN POWER GRID NOT ACTIVE/AUXILIARY POWER ONLY
The screen was still flashing. He pushed MAIN SET 1.
MAIN POWER ACTIVATED
All the lights in the room came on. All the monitor screens stopped flashing. "Hey! All right!"
Tim pressed RESET GRIDS. Nothing happened for a moment. He glanced at the video monitors, then back at the main screen.
[picture]
Grant said something that Tim didn't hear, he only heard the tension in his voice. He was looking at Tim, worried.
Tim felt his heart thumping in his chest. Lex was yelling at him. He didn't want to look at the video monitor anymore. He could hear the sound of the bars bending in the lodge, and the raptors snarling. He heard Malcolm say, "Dear God. . ."
He pushed LODGE.
SPECIFY GRID NUMBER TO RESET.
For a frozen interminable moment he couldn't remember the number, but then he remembered F4, and he pressed that.
ACTIVATING LODGE GRID F4 NOW.
On the video monitor he saw an explosion of sparks, sputtering down from the ceiling of the hotel room. The monitor flared white. Lex shouted "What did you do!" but almost immediately the image came back and they could see that the raptors were caught between the bars, writhing and screaming in a hot cascade of sparks while Muldoon and the others cheered, their voices tinny over the radio.
"That's it," Grant said, slapping Tim on the back. "That's it! You did it! "
They were all standing and jumping up and down when Lex said, "What about the ship?"
"The what?"
"The ship, " she said, and pointed to the screen.
On the monitor, the buildings beyond the bow of the ship were much larger, and moving to the right, as the ship turned left and prepared to dock. He saw crewmen heading out to the bow, preparing to tie up.
Tim scrambled back to his seat, and stared at the startup screen.
He studied the screen. TeleCom VBB and TeleCom RSD both looked like they might have something to do with telephones. He pressed TELECOM RSD.
YOU HAVE 23 WAITING CALLS AND/OR MESSAGES.
DO YOU WISH TO RECEIVE THEM NOW?
He pushed NO.
"Maybe the ship was one of the waiting calls," Lex said. "Maybe that way you could get the phone number!"
He ignored her.
ENTER THE NUM13ER YOU WISH TO CALL OR PRESS F7 FOR DIRECTORY.
He pushed F7 and suddenly names and numbers spilled over the screen, an enormous directory. It wasn't alphabetical, and it took a while to scan it visually before he found what he was looking for:
VSL ANNE B. (FREDDY) 708-3902
Now all he had to do was figure out how to dial. He pushed a row of buttons at the bottom of the screen:
DIAL NOW OR DIAL LATER?
He pushed DIAL NOW.
WE'RE SORRY, YOUR CALL CANNOT BE COMPLETED AS DIALED.
{ERROR-5981}
PLEASE TRY AGAIN
He tried it again.
He heard a dial tone, then the tone of the numbers being automatically dialed in rapid succession.
"Is that it?" Grant said.
"Pretty good, Timmy," Lex said. "But they're almost there." On the screen, they could see the prow of the ship closing on the Puntarenas dock. They heard a high-pitched squeal, and then a voice said, "Ah, hello, John, this is Freddy. Do you read me, over?"
Tim picked up a phone on the console but heard only a dial tone.
"Ah, hello, John, this is Freddy, over?"
"Answer it" Lex said.
Now they were all picking up phones, lifting every receiver in sight, but they heard only dial tones. Finally Tim saw a phone mounted on the side of the console with a blinking light.
"Ah, hello, control. This is Freddy. Do you read me, over?"
Tim grabbed the receiver. "Hello, this is Tim Murphy, and I need you to-"
"Ah, say again, didn't get that, John."
"Don't land the boat! Do you hear me?"
There was a pause. Then a puzzled voice said, "Sounds like some damn kid."
Tim said, "Don't land the ship! Come back to the island!"
The voices sounded distant and scratchy. "Did he-name was Murphy?" And another voice said, "I didn't get-name."
Tim looked frantically at the others. Gennaro reached for the phone. "Let me do this. Can you get his name?"
There was the sharp crackle of static. "-got to be a joke or else-a frigging ham operator-omething."
Tim was working on the keyboard, there was probably some kind of a way to find out who Freddy was. . . .
"Can you hear me?" Gennaro said, into the phone. "If you can hear me, answer me now, over."
"Son," came the drawled reply, "we don't know who the hell you are, but you're not funny, and we're about to dock and we've got work to do. Now, identify yourself properly or get off this channel."
Tim watched as the screen printed out FARRELL, FREDERICK D, (CAPT.).
"Try this for identification, Captain Farrell," Gennaro said. "If you don't turn that boat around and return to this island immediately, you will be found in violation of Section 509 of the Uniform Maritime Act, you will he subject to revocation of license, penalties in excess of fifty thousand dollars, and five years in jail. Do you hear that?"
There was a silence.
"Do you copy that, Captain Farrell?"
And then, distantly, they heard a voice say, "I copy," and another voice said, "All ahead stern." The boat began to turn away from the dock.
Lex began to cheer. Tim collapsed back in the chair, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
Grant said, "What's the Uniform Maritime Act?"
"Who the hell knows?" Gennaro said.
They all watched the screen in satisfaction. The boat was definitely heading away from the shore.
"I guess the hard part's finished," Gennaro said. Grant shook his head. "The hard part," he said, is just beginning."
SEVENTH ITERATION
[picture]
"Increasingly, the mathematics will demand the courage to
face its implications."
IAN MALCOLM
Destroying the World
They moved Malcolm to another room in the lodge, to a clean bed. Hammond seemed to revive, and began bustling around, straightening up, "Well," he said, "at least disaster is averted."
"What disaster is that?" Malcolm said, sighing.
"Well," Hammond said, "they didn't get free and overrun the world."
Malcolm sat up on one elbow. "You were worried about that?"
"Surely that's what was at stake," Hammond said. "These animals, lacking predators, might get out and destroy the planet."
"You egomaniacal idiot" Malcolm said, in fury. "Do you have any idea what you are talking about? You think you can destroy the planet? My, what intoxicating power you must have." Malcolm sank back on the bed. "You can't destroy this planet. You can't even come close."
"Most people believe," Hammond said stiffly, "that the planet is in jeopardy."
"Well, it's not," Malcolm said.
"All the experts agree that our planet is in trouble."
Malcolm sighed. "Let me tell you about our planet," he said. "Our planet is four and a half billion years old. There has been life on this planet for nearly that long. Three point eight billion years. The first bacteria. And, later, the first multicellular animals, then the first complex creatures, in the sea, on the land. Then the great sweeping ages of animals-the amphibians, the dinosaurs, the mammals, each lasting millions upon millions of years. Great dynasties of creatures arising, flourishing, dying away, All this happening against a background of continuous and violent upheaval, mountain ranges thrust up and eroded away, cometary impacts, volcanic eruptions, oceans rising and falling, whole continents moving . . . Endless constant and violent change . . . Even today, the greatest geographical feature on the planet comes from two great continents colliding, buckling to make the Himalayan mountain range over millions of years. The planet has survived everything, in its time. It will certainly survive us."
Hammond frowned. "Just because it lasted a long time," he said, "doesn't mean it is permanent. If there was a radiation accident . . ."
"Suppose there was," Malcolm said. "Let's say we had a bad one, and all the plants and animals died, and the earth was clicking hot for a hunred thousand years. Life would survive somewhere-under the soil, or perhaps frozen in Arctic ice. And after all those years, when the planet was no longer inhospitable, life would again spread over the planet. The evolutionary process would begin again. It might take a few billion years for life to regain its present variety. And of course it would be very different from what it is now. But the earth would survive our folly. Life would survive our folly. Only we," Malcolm said, "think it wouldn't."
Hammond said, "Well, if the ozone layer gets thinner-"
"There will be more ultraviolet radiation reaching the surface. So what?"
"Well. It'll cause skin cancer."
Malcolm shook his head. "Ultraviolet radiation is good for life. It's powerful energy. It promotes mutation, change. Many forms of life will thrive with more UV radiation."
"And many others will die out," Hammond said.
Malcolm sighed. "You think this is the first time such a thing has happened? Don't you know about oxygen?"
"I know it's necessary for life."
"It is now, " Malcolm said. "But oxygen is actually a metabolic poison. It's a corrosive gas, like fluorine, which is used to etch glass. And when oxygen was first produced as a waste product by certain plant cells-say, around three billion years ago-it created a crisis for all other life on our planet. Those plant cells were polluting the environment with a deadly poison. They were exhaling a lethal gas, and building up its concentration. A planet like Venus has less than one percent oxygen. On earth, the concentration of oxygen was going up rapidly-five, ten, eventually twentyone percent! Earth had an atmosphere of pure poison! Incompatible with life! "
Hammond looked irritated. "So what is your point? That modern pollutants will be incorporated, too?"
"No," Malcolm said. "My point is that life on earth can take care of itself. In the thinking of a human being, a hundred years is a long time. A hundred years ago, we didn't have cars and airplanes and computers and vaccines. . . . It was a whole different world. But to the earth, a hundred years is nothing. A million years is nothing. This planet lives and breathes on a much vaster scale. We can't imagine its slow and powerful rhythms, and we haven't got the humility to try. We have been residents here for the blink of an eye. If we are gone tomorrow, the earth will not miss us."
And we very well might be gone," Hammond said, huffing.
"Yes," Malcolm said. "We might."
"So what are you saying? We shouldn't care about the environment?"
"No, of course not."
"Then what?"
Malcolm coughed, and stared into the distance. "Let's be clear. The planet is not in jeopardy. We are in jeopardy. We haven't got the power to destroy the planet-or to save it. But we might have the power to save ourselves."
Under Control
Four hours had passed. It was afternoon; the sun was falling. The air conditioning was back on in the control room, and the computer was functioning properly. As near as they could determine, out of twenty-four people on the island, eight were dead and six more were missing. The visitor center and the Safari Lodge were both secure, and the northern perimeter seemed to be clear of dinosaurs. They had called authorities in San Jose for help. The Costa Rican National Guard was on its way, as well as an air ambulance to carry Malcolm to a hospital. But over the telephone, the Costa Rican guard had been distinctly cautious- undoubtedly calls would go back and forth between San Jose and Washington before help was finally sent to the island. And now it was growing late in the day- if the helicopters did not arrive soon, they would have to wait until morning.
In the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait. The ship was returning; the crew had discovered three young raptors scampering about in one of the aft holds, and had killed the animals. On Isla Nublar, the immediate danger appeared to have passed; everyone was in either the visitor center or the lodge. Tim had gotten quite good with the computer, and he flashed up a new screen.
Total Animals 292____________________________________
Species Expected Found Ver
Tyrannosaurs 2 1 4.1
Maiasaurs 22 20 ??
Stegosaurs 4 1 3.9
Triceratops 8 6 3.1
Procompsognathids 65 64 ??
Othnielia 23 15 3.1
Velociraptors 37 27 ??
Apatosaurs 17 12 3.1
Hadrosaurs 11 5 3.1
Dilophosaurs 7 4 4.3
Pterosaurs 6 5 4.3
Hypsilophodontids 34 14 ??
Euoplocepbalids 16 9 4.0
Styracosaurs 18 7 3.9
Callovosaurs 22 13 4.1
Total 292 203
"What the hell is it doing now?" Gennaro said. "Now it says there are fewer animals?"
Grant nodded. "Probably."
Ellie said, "Jurassic Park is finally coming under control."
"Meaning what?"
"Equilibrium." Grant pointed to the monitors. On one of them, the hypsilophodonts leapt into the air as a pack of velociraptors entered the field from the west.
"The fences have been down for hours," Grant said. "The animals are mingling with each other. Populations reaching equilibriums true Jurassic equilibrium."
"I don't think it was supposed to happen," Gennaro said. "The animals were never supposed to mix."
"Well, they are."
On another monitor, Grant saw a pack of raptors racing at full speed across an open field toward a four-ton hadrosaur. The hadrosaur turned to flee, and one of the raptors lumped onto its back, biting into the long neck, while others raced forward, circled around it, nipped at its legs, leapt up to slash at the belly with their powerful claws. Within minutes, six raptors had brought down the larger animal.
Grant stared, silently.
Ellie said, "Is it the way you imagined?"
"I don't know what I imagined," he said. He watched the monitor. "No, not exactly."
Muldoon said quietly, "You know, it appears all the adult raptors are out right now."
Grant didn't pay much attention at first. He just watched the monitors, the interaction of the great animals. In the south, the stegosaur was swinging its spiked tail, warily circling the baby tyrannosaur, which watched it, bemused, and occasionally lunged forward to nip ineffectually at the spikes. In the western quadrant, the adult triceratopsians were fighting among themselves, charging and locking horns. One animal already lay wounded and dying.
Muldoon said, "We've got about an hour of good daylight left, Dr. Grant. If you want to try and find that nest."
"Right," Grant said. "I do."
"I was thinking," Muldoon said, "that, when the Costa Ricans come, they will probably imagine this island to be a military problem. Something to destroy as soon as possible."
"Damn right," Gennaro said.
"They'll bomb it from the air," Muldoon said. "Perhaps napalm, perhaps nerve gas as well. But from the air."
"I hope they do," Gennaro said. "This island is too dangerous. Every animal on this island must be destroyed, and the sooner the better."
Grant said, "That's not satisfactory." He got to his feet. "Let's get started. "
"I don't think you understand, Alan," Gennaro said. "It's my opinion that this island is too dangerous. It must be destroyed. Every animal on this island must be destroyed, and that's what the Costa Rican guard will do. I think we should leave it in their capable hands. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
"Perfectly," Grant said again.
"Then what's your problem?" Gennaro said. "It's a military operation. Let them do it."
Grant's back ached, where the raptor had clawed him. "No," he said. "We have to take care of it."
"Leave it to the experts," Gennaro said.
Grant remembered how he bhd found Gennaro, just six hours earlier, huddled and terrified in the cab of a truck in the maintenance building. And suddenly he lost his temper and slammed the lawyer up against the concrete wall. "Listen, you little bastard, you have a responsibility to this situation and you're going to start living up to it."
"I am," Gennaro said, coughing.
"No, you're not. You've shirked your responsibility all along, from the very beginning."
"The hell-"
"You sold investors on an undertaking you didn't fully understand. You were part owner of a business you failed to supervise. You did not check the activities of a man whom you knew from experience to be a liar, and you permitted that man to screw around with the most dangerous technology in human history. I'd say you shirked your responsibility."
Gennaro coughed again. "Well, now I'm taking responsibility."
"No," Grant said. "You're still shirking it. And you can't do that any more." He released Gennaro, who bent over, gasping for breath. Grant turned to Muldoon. "What have we got for weapons?"
Muldoon said, "We've got some control nets, and shock prods."
"How good are these shock prods?" Grant said.
"They're like bang sticks for sharks. They have an explosive capacitor tip, delivers a shock on contact. High voltage, low amps. Not fatal, but it's definitely incapacitating."
"That's not going to do it," Grant said. "Not in the nest."
"What nest?" Gennaro said, coughing.
"The raptor nest," Ellie said.
"The raptor nest?"
Grant was saying, "Have you got any radio collars?"
"I'm sure we do," Muldoon said.
"Get one. And is there anything else that can be used for defense?"
Muldoon shock his head.
"Well, get whatever you can."
Muldoon went away. Grant turned to Gennaro. "Your island is a mess, Mr. Gennaro. Your experiment is a mess. It has to be cleaned up. But you can't do that until you know the extent of the mess. And that means finding the nests on the island. Especially the raptor nests. They'll be hidden. We have to find them, and inspect them, and count the eggs. We have to account for every animal born on this island. Then we can burn it down. But first we have a little work to do."
Ellie was looking at the wall map, which now showed the animal ranges. Tim was working the keyboard. She pointed to the map. "The raptors are localized in the southern area, down where the volcanic steam fields are. Maybe they like the warmth."
"Is there any place to hide down there?"
"Turns out there is," she said. "There's massive concrete waterworks, to control flooding in the southern flatlands. Big underground area. Water and shade."
Grant nodded. "Then that's where they'll be."
Ellie said, "I think there's an entrance from the beach, too." She turned to the consoles and said, "Tim, show us the cutaways on the waterworks." Tim wasn't listening. "Tim?"
He was hunched over the keyboard. "Just a minute," he said. "I found something."
"What is it?"
"It's an unmarked storage room. I don't know what's there."
"Then it might have weapons, Grant said.
They were all behind the maintenance building, unlocking a steel storm door, lifting it up into the sunlight, to reveal concrete steps going down into the earth. "Damned Arnold," Muldoon said, as he hobbled down the steps. "He must have known this was here all along."
"Maybe not," Grant said. "He didn't try to go here."
"Well, then, Hammond knew. Somebody knew."
"Where is Hammond now?"
"Still in the lodge."
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and came upon rows of gas masks hanging on the wall, in plastic containers. They shone their flashlights deeper into the room and saw several heavy glass cubes, two feet high, with steel caps. Grant could see small dark spheres inside the cubes. It was like being in a room full of giant pepper mills, he thought.
Muldoon opened the cap of one, reached in, and withdrew a sphere. He turned it in the light, frowning. "I'll be damned."
"What is it?" Grant said.
"MORO-12," Muldoon said. "It's an inhalation nerve gas. These are grenades. Lots and lots of grenades."
"Let's get started," Grant said grimly.
"It likes me," Lex said, smiling. They were standing in the garage of the visitor center, by the little raptor that Grant had captured in the tunnel. She was petting the raptor through the cage bars. The animal rubbed up against her hand.
"I'd be careful there," Muldoon said. "They can give a nasty bite."