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“Well, it's very simple. Except for the air, which flows freely, everything about this park is meant to be isolated. Nothing gets in, nothing out. The animals kept here are never to mix with the greater ecosystems of earth. They are never to escape.”
“And they never have,” Hammond snorted.
“Such isolation is impossible,” Malcolm said flatly. “It simply cannot be done.”
“It can. It's done all the time.”
“I beg your pardon,” Malcolm said. “But you don't know what you are talking about.”
“You arrogant little snot,” Hammond said. He stood, and walked out of the room.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” Gennaro said.
“I'm sorry,” Malcolm said, “but the point remains. What we call 'nature' is in fact a complex system of far greater subtlety than we are willing to accept. We make a simplified image of nature and then we botch it up, I'm no environmentalist, but you have to understand what you don't understand. How many times must the point be made? How many times must we see the evidence? We build the Aswan Dam and claim it is going to revitalize the country. Instead, it destroys the fertile Nile Delta, produces parasitic infestation, and wrecks the Egyptian economy. We build the-”
“Excuse me,” Gennaro said. “But I think I hear the helicopter. That's probably the sample for Dr. Grant to look at.” He started out of the room. They all followed.
At the foot of the mountain, Gennaro was screaming over the sound of the helicopter. The veins of his neck stood out. “You did what? You invited who?”
“Take it easy,” Hammond said.
Gennaro screamed, “Are you out of your goddamned mind?”
“Now, look here,” Hammond said, drawing himself up. “I think we have to get something clear-”
“No,” Gennaro said. “No, you get something clear. This is not a social outing. This is not a weekend excursion-”
“This is my island,” Hammond said, “and I can invite whomever I want.”
“This is a serious investigation of your island because your investors are concerned that it's out of control. We think this is a very dangerous place, and-”
“You're not going to shut me down, Donald-”
“I will if I have to-”
“This is a safe place,” Hammond said, “no matter what that damn mathematician is saying-”
“It's not-”
“And I'll demonstrate its safety-”
“And I want you to put them Tight back on that helicopter,” Gennaro said.
“Can't,” Hammond said, pointing toward the clouds. “It's already leaving.” And, indeed, the sound of the rotors was fading.
“God damn it,” Gennaro said, “don't you see you're needlessly risking-”
“Ah ah,” Hammond said. “Let's continue this later. I don't want to upset the children.”
Grant turned, and saw two children coming down the hillside, led by Ed Regis. There was a bespectacled boy of about eleven, and a girl a few years younger, perhaps seven or eight, her blond hair pushed up under a Mets baseball cap, and a baseball glove slung over her shoulder. The two kids made their way nimbly down the path from the helipad, and stopped some distance from Gennaro and Hammond.
Low, under his breath, Gennaro said, “Christ.”
“Now, take it easy,” Hammond said. “Their parents are getting a divorce, and I want them to have a fun weekend here.”
The girl waved tentatively.
“Hi, Grandpa,” she said. “We're here.”
The Tour
Tim Murphy could see at once that something was wrong. His grandfather was in the middle of an argument with the younger, red-faced man opposite him. And the other adults, standing behind, looked embarrassed and uncomfortable. Alexis felt the tension, too, because she hung back, tossing her baseball in the air. He had to push her: “Go on, Lex.”
“Go on yourself, Timmy.”
“Don't be a worm,” he said.
Lex glared at him, but Ed Regis said cheerfully, “I'll introduce you to everybody, and then we can take the tour.”
“I have to go,” Lex said.
“I'll just introduce you first,” Ed Regis said.
“No, I have to go.”
But Ed Regis was already making introductions. First to Grandpa, who kissed them both, and then to the man he was arguing with. This man was muscular and his name was Gennaro. The rest of the introductions Were a blur to Tim. There was a blond woman wearing shorts, and a man with a beard who wore jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. He looked like the outdoors type. Then a fat college kid who had something to do with computers, and finally a thin man in black, who didn't shake hands, but just nodded his head. Tim was trying to organize his impressions, and was looking at the blond woman's legs, when he suddenly realized that he knew who the bearded man was.
“Your mouth is open,” Lex said.
Tim said, “I know him.”
“Oh sure. You just met him.”
“No,” Tim said. “I have his book.”
The bearded man said, “What book is that, Tim?”
“Lost World of the Dinosaurs, ” Tim said.
Alexis snickered. “Daddy says Tim has dinosaurs on the brain,” she said.
Tim hardly heard her. He was thinking of what he knew about Alan Grant. Alan Grant was one of the principal advocates of the theory that dinosaurs were warm-blooded. He had done lots of digging at the place called Egg Hill in Montana, which was famous because so many dinosaur eggs had been found there. Professor Grant had found most of the dinosaur eggs that had ever been discovered. He was also a good illustrator, and he drew the pictures for his own books.
“Dinosaurs on the brain?” the bearded man said. “Well, as a matter of fact, I have that same problem.”
“Dad says dinosaurs are really stupid,” Lex said. “He says Tim should get out in the air and play more sports,”
Tim felt embarrassed. “I thought you had to go,” he said.
“In a minute,” Lex said.
“I thought you were in such a rush.”
“I'm the one who would know, don't you think, Timothy?” she said putting her hands on her hips, copying her mother's most irritating stance.
“Tell you what,” Ed Regis said. “Why don't we all just head on over to the visitor center and we can begin our tour.” Everybody started walking. Tim heard Gennaro whisper to his grandfather, “I could kill you for this,” and then Tim looked up and saw that Dr Grant had fallen into step beside him.
“How old are you, Tim?”
“Eleven.”
“And how long have you been interested in dinosaurs?” Grant asked.
Tim swallowed. “A while now,” he said. He felt nervous to be talking to Dr. Grant. “We go to museums sometimes, when I can talk my family into it. My father.”
“Your father's not especially interested?”
Tim nodded, and told Grant about his family's last trip to the Museum of Natural History. His father had looked at a skeleton and said, “That's a big one.”
Tim had said, “No, Dad, that's a medium-size one, a camptosaurus.”
“Oh, I don't know. Looks pretty big to me.”
“It's not even full-grown, Dad.”
His father squinted at the skeleton. “What is it, Jurassic?”
“Jeez. No. Cretaceous.”
“Cretaceous? What's the difference between Cretaceous and Jurassic?”
“Only about a hundred million years,” Tim said.
“Cretaceous is older?”
“No, Dad, Jurassic is older.”
“Well,” his father said, stepping back, “it looks pretty damn big to me.” And he turned to Tim for agreement. Tim knew he had better agree with his father, so he just muttered something. And they went on to another exhibit-
Tim stood in front of one skeleton-Tyrannosaurus rex, the mightiest predator the earth had ever known-for a long time. Finally his father said, “What are you looking at?”
“I'm counting the vertebrae,” Tim said.
“The vertebrae?”
“In the backbone.”
I know what vertebrae are,“ his father said, annoyed. He stood there a while longer and then he said, ”Why are you counting them?"
“I think they're wrong. Tyrannosaurs should only have thirty-seven vertebrae in the tall. This has more.”
“You mean to tell me,” his father said, “that the Museum of Natural History has a skeleton that's wrong? I can't believe that.”
“It's wrong,” Tim said.
His father stomped off toward a guard in the corner. “What did you do now?” his mother said to Tim.
“I didn't do anything,” Tim said. “I just said the dinosaur is wrong, that's all.”
And then his father came back with a funny look on his face, because of course the guard told him that the tyrannosaurus had too many vertebrae in the tail.
“How'd you know that?” his father asked.
“I read it,” Tim said.
“That's pretty amazing, son,” he said, and he put his hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You know how many vertebrae belong in that tail. I've never seen anything like it. You really do have dinosaurs on the brain.”
And then his father said he wanted to catch the last half of the Mets game on TV, and Lex said she did, too, so they left the museum. And Tim didn't see any other dinosaurs, which was why they had come there in the first place. But that was how things happened in his family.
How things used to happen in his family, Tim corrected himself. Now that his father was getting a divorce from his mother, things would probably be different. His father had already moved out, and even though it was weird at first, Tim liked it. He thought his mother had a boyfriend, but he couldn't be sure, and of course he would never mention it to Lex. Lex was heartbroken to be separated from her father, and in the last few weeks she had become so obnoxious that-
“Was it 5027?” Grant said.
“I'm sorry?” Tim said.
“The tyrannosaurus at the museum. Was it 5027?”
“Yes,” Tim said. “How'd you know?”
Grant smiled. “They've been talking about fixing it for years. But now it may never happen.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of what is taking place here,” Grant said, “on your grandfather's island.”
Tim shook his head. He didn't understand what Grant was talking about. “My mom said it was just a resort, you know, with swimming and tennis.”
“Not exactly,” Grant said. “I'll explain as we walk along.”
Now I'm a damned babysitter, Ed Regis thought unhappily, tapping his foot as he waited in the visitor center. That was what the old man had told him him: You watch my kids like a hawk, they're your responsibility for the weekend.
Ed Regis didn't like it at all. He felt degraded. He wasn't a damn babysitter. And, for that matter, he wasn't a damned tour guide, even for VIPs. He was the head of public relations for Jurassic Park, and he had much to prepare between now and the opening, a year away. Just to coordinate with the PR firms in San Francisco and London, and the agencies in New York and Tokyo, was a full-time job-especially since the agencies couldn't yet be told what the resort's real attraction was. The firms were all designing teaser campaigns, nothing specific, and they were unhappy. Creative people needed nurturing. They needed encouragement to do their best work. He couldn't waste his time taking scientists on tours.
But that was the trouble with a career in public relations-nobody saw you as a professional. Regis had been down here on the island off and on for the past seven months, and they were still pushing odd jobs on him. Like that episode back in January. Harding should have handled that. Harding, or Owens, the general contractor. Instead, it had fallen to Ed Regis. What did he know about taking care of some sick workman? And now he was a damn tour guide and babysitter. He turned back and counted the heads. Still one short.
Then, in the back, he saw Dr. Sattler emerge from the bathroom. “All right, folks, let's begin our tour on the second floor.”
Tim went with the others, following Mr. Regis up the black suspended staircase to the second floor of the building. They passed a sign that read:
CLOSED AREA
AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY
BEYOND THIS POINT
Tim felt a thrill when he saw that sign. They walked down the secondfloor hallway. One wall was glass, looking out onto a balcony with palm trees in the light mist. On the other wall were stenciled doors, like offices: PARK WARDEN... GUEST SERVICES... GENERAL MANAGER....
Halfway down the corridor they came to a glass partition marked with another sign:
[picture]
Underneath were more signs:
CAUTION
Teratogenic Substances
Pregnant Women Avoid Exposure
To This Area
DANGER
Radioactive Isotopes In Use
Carcinogenic Potential
Tim grew more excited all the time. Teratogenic substances! Things that made monsters! It gave him a thrill, and he was disappointed to hear Ed Regis say, “Never mind the signs, they're just up for legal reasons. I can assure you everything is perfectly safe.” He led them through the door. There was a guard on the other side. Ed Regis turned to the group.
“You may have noticed that we have a minimum of personnel on the island. We can run this resort with a total of twenty people. Of course, we'll have more when we have guests here, but at the moment there's only twenty. Here's our control room. The entire park is controlled from here.”
They paused before windows and peered into a darkened room that looked like a small version of Mission Control. There was a vertical glass see-through map of the park, and facing it a bank of glowing computer consoles- Some of the screens displayed data, but most of them showed video images from around the park. There were just two people inside, standing and talking.
“The man on the left is our chief engineer, John Arnold”-Regis pointed to a thin man in a button-down short-sleeve shirt and tie, smoking a cigarette-“and next to him, our park warden, Mr. Robert Muldoon, the famous white bunter from Nairobi.” Muldoon was a burly man in khaki, sunglasses dangling from his shirt pockct. He glanced out at the group, gave a brief nod, and turned back to the computer screens. “I'm sure you want to see this room,” Ed Regis said, “but first, let's see how we obtain dinosaur DNA.”
The sign on the door said EXTRACTIONS and, like all the doors in the laboratory building, it opened with a security card. Ed Regis slipped the card in the slot; the light blinked; and the door opened.
Inside, Tim saw a small room bathed in green light. Four technicians in lab coats were peering into double-barreled stereo microscopes, or looking at images on high resolution video screens. The room was filled with yellow stones. The stones were in glass shelves; in cardboard boxes; in large pull-out trays. Each stone was tagged and numbered in black ink.
Regis introduced Henry Wu, a slender man in his thirties. “Dr. Wu is our chief geneticist. I'll let him explain what we do here.”
Henry Wu smiled. “At least I'll try,” he said. “Genetics is a bit complicated. But you're probably wondering where our dinosaur DNA comes from.”
“It crossed my mind,” Grant said.
“As a matter of fact,” Wu said, “there are two possible sources. Using the Loy antibody extraction technique, we can sometimes get DNA directly from dinosaur bones.”
“What kind of a yield?” Grant asked.
“Well, most soluble protein is leached out during fossilization, but twenty percent of the proteins are still recoverable by grinding up the bones and using Loy's procedure. Dr. Loy himself has used it to obtain proteins from extinct Australian marsupials, as well as blood cells from ancient human remains. His technique is so refined it can work with a mere fifty nanograms of material. That's fifty-billionths of a gram.”
“And you've adapted his technique here?” Grant asked.
“Only as a backup,” Wu said. “As you can imagine, a twenty percent yield is insufficient for our work. We need the entire dinosaur DNA strand in order to clone. And we get it here.” He held up one of the yellow stones. “From amber-the fossilized resin of prehistoric tree sap.”
Grant looked at Ellie, then at Malcolm.
“That's really quite clever,” Malcolm said, nodding.
“I still don't understand,” Grant admitted.
“Tree sap,” Wu explained, “often flows over insects and traps them. The insects are then perfectly preserved within the fossil. One finds all kinds of insects in amber-including biting insects that have sucked blood from larger animals.”
“Sucked the blood,” Grant repeated. His mouth fell open. "You mean sucked the blood of dinosaurs.
“Hopefully, yes.”
“And then the insects are preserved in amber....” Grant shook his head. “I'll be damned-that just might work.”
“I assure you, it does work,” Wu said. He moved to one of the microscopes, where a technician positioned a piece of amber containing a fly under the microscope. On the video monitor, they watched as he inserted a long needle through the amber, into the thorax of the prehistoric fly.
"If this insect has any foreign blood cells, we may be able to extract them, and obtain paleo-DNA, the DNA of an extinct creature. We won't know for sure, of course, until we extract whatever is in there, replicate it, and test it. That is what we have been doing for five years now. It has been a long, slow process-but it has paid off.
“Actually, dinosaur DNA is somewhat easier to extract by this process than mammalian DNA. The reason is that mammalian red cells have no nuclei, and thus no DNA in their red cells. To clone a mammal, you must find a white cell, which is much rarer than red cells. But dinosaurs had nucleated red cells, as do modern birds. It is one of the many indications we have that dinosaurs aren't really reptiles at all. They are big leathery birds.”
Tim saw that Dr. Grant still looked skeptical, and Dennis Nedry, the messy fat man, appeared completely uninterested, as if he knew it all already. Nedry kept looking impatiently toward the next room.
“I see Mr. Nedry has spotted the next phase of our work,” Wu said. “How we identify the DNA we have extracted. For that, we use powerful computers.”
They went through sliding doors into a chilled room. There was a loud humming sound. Two six-foot-tall round towers stood in the center of the room, and along the walls were rows of waist-high stainless-steel boxes. “This is our high-tech laundromat,” Dr. Wu said. “The boxes along the walls are all Hamachi-Hood automated gene sequencers. They are being run, at very high speed, by the Cray XMP supercomputers, which are the towers in the center of the room. In essence, you are standing in the middle of an incredibly powerful genetics factory.”
There were several monitors, all running so fast it was hard to see what they were showing. Wu pushed a button and slowed one image.
1 GCGTTGCTGG CGTTTTTCCA TAGGCTCCGC CCCCCTGACG AGCATCACAA AAATCGACGC
61 GGTGGCGAAA CCCGACAGGA CTATAAAGAT ACCAGGCGTT TCCCCCTGGA AGCTCCCTCG
121 TGTTCCGACC CTGCCGCTTA CCGGATACCT GTCCGCCTTT CTCCCTTCGG GAAGCCTGGC
181 TGCTCACGCT GTAGGTATCT CAGTTCGGTG TAGGTCGTTC GCTCCAAGCT GGGCTGTGTG
241 CCGTTCAGCC CGACCGCTGC GCCTTATCCG GTAACTATCG TCTTGAGTCC AACCCGGTAA
301 AGTAGGACAG GTGCCGGCAG CGCTCTGGGT CATTTTCGGC GAGAACCGCT TTCGCTGGAG
361 ATCGGCCTGT CGCTTGCGGT ATTCGGAATC TTGCACGCCC TCGCTCAAGC CTTCGTCACT
421 CCAAACGTTT CGGCGAGAAG CAGGCCATTA TCGCCGGCAT GGCGGCCGAC GCGCTGGGCT
481 GGCGTTCGCG ACGCGAGGCT GGATGGCCTT CCCCATTATG ATTCTTCTCG CTTCCGGCGG
541 CCCGCGTTGC AGGCCATGCT GTCCAGGCAG GTAGATGACG ACCATCAGGG ACAGCTTCAA
601 CGGCTCTTAC CAGCCTAACT TCGATCACTG GACCGCTGAT CGTCACGGCG ATTTATGCCG
661 CACATGGACG CGTTGCTGGC GTTTTTCCAT AGGCTCCGCC CCCCTGACGA GCATCACAAA
721 CAAGTCAGAG GTGGCGAAAC CCGACAGGAC TATAAAGATA CCAGGCGTTT CCCCCTGGAA
781 GCGCTCTCCT GTTCCGACCC TGCCGCTTAC CGGATACCTG TCCGCCTTTC TCCCTTCGGG
841 CTTTCTCAAT GCTCACGCTG TAGGTATCTC AGTTCGGTGT AGGTCGTTCG CTCCAAGCTG
901 ACGAACCCCC CGTTCAGCCC GACCGCTGCG CCTTATCCGG TAACTATCGT CTTGAGTCCA
961 ACACGACTTA ACGGGTTGGC ATGGATTGTA GGCGCCGCCC TATACCTTGT CTGCCTCCCC
1021 GCGGTGCATG GAGCCGGGCC ACCTCGACCT GAATGGAAGC CGGCGGCACC TCGCTAACGG
1081 CCAAGAATTG GAGCCAATCA ATTCTTGCGG AGAACTGTGA ATGCGCAAAC CAACCCTTGG
1141 CCATCGCGTC CGCCATCTCC AGCAGCCGCA CGCGGCGCAT CTCGGGCAGC GTTGGGTCCT
1201 GCGCATGATC GTGCT............. CCTGTCGTTG AGGACCCGGC TAGGCTGGCG GGGTTGCCTT
1281 AGAATGAATC ACCGATACGC GAGCGAACGT GAAGCGACTG CTGCTGCAAA ACGTCTGCGA
1341 AACATGAATG GTCTTCGGTT TCCGTGTTTC GTAAAGTCTG GAAACGCGGA AGTCAGCGCC
“Here you see the actual structure of a small fragment of dinosaur DNA,” Wu said. “Notice the sequence is made up of four basic compounds-adenine, thymine, guanine, and cytosine. This amount of DNA probably contains instructions to make a single protein-say, a hormone or an enzyme. The full DNA molecule contains three billion of these bases. If we looked at a screen like this once a second, for eight hours a day, it'd still take more than two years to look at the entire DNA strand. It's that big.”
He pointed to the image. “This is a typical example, because you see the DNA has an error, down here in line 1201. Much of the DNA we extract is fragmented or incomplete. So the first thing we have to do is repair it-or rather, the computer has to. It'll cut the DNA, using what are called restriction enzymes. The computer will select a variety of enzymes that might do the job.”
1 GCGTTGCTGGCGTTTTTCCATAGGGTCCGCCCCCCTGACGAGCATCACAAAAATCGACGC
61 GGTGGCGAAACCCGACAGGACTFITAAAGATACCAGGCGTTTCCCCCTGGAAGCTCCCTCG
NspO4
121 TGTTCCGACCCTGCCGCTTACCGGATACCTGTCCGCCTTTCTCCCTTCGGGAAGCGTGGC
181 TGCTCACGCTGTAGGTATCTCAGTTCGGTGTAGGTCGTTCGCTCCASGCTGGGCTGTGTG
BrontIV
241 CCGTTCAGCCCGACCGCTGCGCCTTATCCGGTAACTATCGTCTTGAGTCCAACCCGGTAA
301 AGTAGGACAGGTGCCGGCAGCGCTCTGGGTCATTTTCGGCGAGGACCGCTTTCGCTGGAG
434 DnxTl AoliBn
361 ATCGGCCTGTCGCTTGCGGTATTCGCAATCTTGCACGCCCTCGCTCAAGCCTTCGTCACT
421 CCAAACGTTTCGGCGAGAAGCAGGCCATAATCGCCGGCATGGCGGCCGACGCGCTGGGCT
481 GGCGTTCGCGACGCGAGGCTGGATGGCCTTCCCCATTATGATTCTTCTCGCTTCCGGCGG
541 CCCGCGTTGCAGGCCATGCTGTCCAGGCAGGTAGATGACGHCCATCAGGGACAGCTTCAA
601 CGGCTCTTACCAGCCTAACTTCGATCACTGGACCGCTGATCGTCACGGCGATTTATGCCG
Nsp04
661 CACATGGACCCGTTGCTGGCGTTTTTCCATAGGCTCCGCCCCCCTGACGAGCATCACAAA
721 CAAGTCAGAGGTGGCGAAACCCOACAGOACTATAAAGATACCAOOCOTTTCCCCCTGGAA
924 Caoll I DinoLdn
781 GCGCTCTCCTOTTCCOACCCTOCCOCTTACCOGATACCTOTCCOCCTTTCTCCCTTCGGG
841 CTTTCTCAATOCTCACOCTGTABGTATCTCAGTTCGGTOTAGGTCGTTCOCTCCAAOCTO
901 ACGAACCCCCCOTTCAGCCCGACCGCTGCGCCTTATCCGGTAACTATCGTCTTGAOTCCA
961 ACACOACTTAACCOOTTOOCATGGATTGTAGGCGCCGCCCTATACCTTGTCTOCCTCCCC
1021 GCGGTGCATGOAOCCOGOCCACCTCGACCTGAATOGAAGCCGOCGOCACCTCOCTAACOG
1081 CCAAGAATTGGAGCCAATCAATTCTTGCGGAGAACTGTGAATGCGCAAACCAACCCTTGG
1141 CCATCGCGTCCGCCATCTCCAGCAGCCGCACGCGGCGCATCTCGGGCAGCGTTGGGTCCT
1416 DnxTI
SSpd4
1201 GCGCATGATCGTGCT:+=:CCTGTCGTTGAGGACCCGGCTAGGCTGGCGGGGTTGCCTTACT
1281 ATGAATCACCGATACGCGAGCGAACGTGAAGCGACTGCTGCTGCAAAACGTCTGCGACCT
“Here is the same section of DNA, with the points of the restriction enzymes located. As you can see in line 1201, two enzymes will cut on either side of the damaged point. Ordinarily we let the computers decide which to use. But we also need to know what base pairs we should insert to repair the injury. For that, we have to align various cut fragments, like so.”
[picture]
“Now we are finding a fragment of DNA that overlaps the injury area, and will tell us what is missing. And you can see we can find it, and go ahead and make the repair. The dark bars you see arc restriction fragments-small sections of dinosaur DNA, broken by enzymes and then analyzed. The computer is now recombining them, by searching for overlapping sections of code. It's a little bit like putting a puzzle together. The computer can do it very rapidly.”
1 GCGTTGCTGGCGTTTTTCCATAGGCTCCGCCCCCCTGACGAGCATCACAAAAATCGACGC
61 GGTGGCGAAACCCGACAGGACTATAAAGATACCAGGCGTTTCCCCCTGGAAGCTCCCTCG
121 TGTTCCGACCCTGCCGCTTACCGGATACCTGTCCGCCTTTCTCCCTTCGGGAAGCCTGGC
181 TGCTCACGCTGTAGGTATCTCAGTTCGGTGTAGGTCGTTCGCTCCAAGCTGGGCTGTGTG
241 CCGTTCAGCCCGACCGCTGCGCCTTATCCGGTAACTATCGTCTTGAGTCCAACCCGGTAA
301 AGTAGGACAGGTGCCGGCAGCGCTCTGGGTCATTTTCGGCGAGAACCGCTTTCGCTGGAG
361 ATCGGCCTGTCGCTTGCGGTATTCGGAATCTTGCACGCCCTCGCTCAAGCCTTCGTCACT
421 CCAAACGTTTCGGCGAGAAGCAGGCCATTATCGCCGGCATGGCGGCCGACGCGCTGGGCT
481 GGCGTTCGCGACGCGAGGCTGGATGGCCTTCCCCATTATGATTCTTCTCGCTTCCGGCGG
541 CCCGCGTTGCAGGCCATGCTGTCCAGGCAGGTAGATGACGACCATCAGGGACAGCTTCAA
601 CGGCTCTTACCAGCCTAACTTCGATCACTGGACCGCTGATCGTCACGGCGATTTATGCCG
661 CACATGGACGCGTTGCTGGCGTTTTTCCATAGGCTCCGCCCCCCTGACGAGCATCACAAA
721 CAAGTCAGAGGTGGCGAAACCCGACAGGACTATAAAGATA CCAGGCGTTTCCCCCTGGAA
781 GCGCTCTCCTGTTCCGACCCTGCCGCTTACCGGATACCTGTCCGCCTTTCTCCCTTCGGG
841 CTTTCTCAATGCTCACGCTGTAGGTATCTC AGTTCGGTGTAGGTCGTTCGCTCCAAGCTG
901 ACGAACCCCCCGTTCAGCCCGACCGCTGCGCCTTATCCGGTAACTATCGTCTTGAGTCCA
961 ACACGACTTAACGGGTTGGCATGGATTGTAGGCGCCGCCCTATACCTTGTCTGCCTCCCC
1021 GCGGTGCATGGAGCCGGGCCACCTCGACCTGAATGGAAGCCGGCGGCACCTCGCTAACGG
1081 CCAAGAATTGGAGCCAATCAATTCTTGCGGAGAACTGTGAATGCGCAAACCAACCCTTGG
1141 CCATCGCGTCCGCCATCTCCAGCAGCCGCACGCGGCGCATCTCGGGCAGCGTTGGGTCCT
1201 GCGCATGATCGTGCTAGCCTGTCGTTGAGGACCCGGCTAGGCTGGCGGGGTTGCCTT
1281 AGAATGAATCACCGATACGCGAGCGAACGTGAAGCGACTG CTGCTGCAAAACGTCTGCGA
1341 AACATGAATGGTCTTCGGTTTCCGTGTTTC GTAAAGTCTGGAAACGCGGAAGTCAGCGCC
“And here is the revised DNA strand, repaired by the computer. The operation you've witnessed would have taken months in a conventional lab, but we can do it in seconds.”
“Then are you working with the entire DNA strand?” Grant asked.
“Oh no,” Wu said. “That's impossible. We've come a long way from the sixties, when it took a whole laboratory four years to decode a screen like this. Now the computers can do it in a couple of hours. But, even so, the DNA molecule is too big. We look only at the sections of the strand that differ from animal to animal, or from contemporary DNA. Only a few percent of the nucleotides differ from one species to the next. That's what we analyze, and it's still a big job.”
Dennis Nedry yawned. He'd long ago concluded that InGen must be doing something like this. A couple of years earlier, when InGen had hired Nedry to design the park control systems, one of the initial design parameters called for data records with 3 X 109 fields. Nedry just assumed that was a mistake, and had called Palo Alto to verify it. But they had told him the Spec was correct. Three billion fields.
Nedry had worked on a lot of large systems. He'd made a name for himself setting up worldwide telephone communications for multinational corporations. Often those systems had millions of records. He was used to that. But InGen wanted something so much larger....
Puzzled, Nedry had gone to see Barney Fellows over at Symbolics, near the M.I.T. campus in Cambridge. “What kind of a database has three billion records, Barney?”
“A mistake,” Barney said, laughing. “They put in an extra zero or two.”
“It's not a mistake. I checked. It's what they want.”
“But that's crazy,” Barney said. “It's not workable. Even if you had the fastest processors and blindingly fast algorithms, a search would still take days. Maybe weeks.”
“Yeah,” Nedry said. “I know. Fortunately I'm not being asked to do algorithms. I'm just being asked to reserve storage and memory for the overall system. But still... what could the database be for?”
Barney frowned. “You operating under an ND?”
“Yes,” Nedry said. Most of his jobs required nondisclosure agreements.
“Can you tell me anything?”
“It's a bioengineering firm.”
“Bioengineering,” Barney said. “Well, there's the obvious....”
“Which is?”
“A DNA molecule.”
“Oh, come on,” Nedry said. “Nobody could be analyzing a DNA molecule.” He knew biologists were talking about the Human Genome Project, to analyze a complete human DNA strand. But that would take ten years of coordinated effort, involving laboratories around the world. It was an enormous undertaking, as big as the Manhattan Project, which made the atomic bomb. “This is a private company,” Nedry said.
“With three billion records,” Barney said. “I don't know what else it could be. Maybe they're being optimistic designing their system.”
“Very optimistic,” Nedry said.
“Or maybe they're just analyzing DNA fragments, but they've got RAM-intensive algorithms.”
That made more sense. Certain database search techniques ate up a lot of memory.
“You know who did their algorithms?”
“No,” Nedry said. “This company is very secretive.”
“Well, my guess is they're doing something with DNA,” Barney said. “What's the system?”
“Multi-XMP.”
“Multi-XMP? You mean more than one Cray? Wow.” Barney was frowning, now, thinking that one over. “Can you tell me anything else?”
“Sorry,” Nedry said. “I can't.” And he had gone back and designed the control systems. It had taken him and his programming team more than a year, and it was especially difficult because the company wouldn't ever tell him what the subsystems were for. The instructions were simply “Design a module for record keeping” or “Design a module for visual display.” They gave him design parameters, but no details about use. He had been working in the dark. And now that the system was up and running, he wasn't surprised to learn there were bugs. What did they expect? And they'd ordered him down here in a panic, all hot and bothered about “his” bugs. It was annoying, Nedry thought.
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