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Those were the keys Muldoon was twirling now. “I'm going downstairs,” he said.
Arnold, watching the control screens, nodded. The two Land Cruisers sat at the top of the hill, waiting for the T-rex to appear.
“Hey,” Dennis Nedry called, from the far console. “As long as you're up, get me a Coke, okay?”
Grant waited in the car, watching quietly. The bleating of the goat became louder, more insistent. The goat tugged frantically at its tether, racing back and forth. Over the radio, Grant heard Lex say in alarm, “What's going to happen to the goat? Is she going to eat the goat?”
“I think so,” someone said to her, and then Ellie turned the radio down. Then they smelled the odor, a garbage stench of putrefaction and decay that drifted up the hillside toward them.
Grant whispered, “He's here.”
“She,” Malcolm said.
The goat was tethered in the center of the field, thirty yards from the nearest trees. The dinosaur must be somewhere among the trees, but for a moment Grant could see nothing at all. Then he realized he was looking too low: the animal's head stood twenty feet above the ground, half concealed among the upper branches of the palm trees.
Malcolm whispered, “Oh, my God.... She's as large as a bloody building....”
Grant stared at the enormous square head, five feet long, mottled reddish brown, with huge jaws and fangs. The tyrannosaur's jaws worked once, opening and closing. But the huge animal did not emerge from hiding.
Malcolm whispered: “How long will it wait?”
“Maybe three or four minutes. Maybe-”
The tyrannosaur sprang silently forward, fully revealing her enormous body. In four bounding steps she covered the distance to the goat, bent down, and bit it through the neck. The bleating stopped. There was silence.
Poised over her kill, the tyrannosaur became suddenly hesitant. Her massive head turned on the muscular neck, looking in all directions. She stared fixedly at the Land Cruiser, high above on the hill.
Malcolm whispered, “Can she see us?”
“Oh yes,” Regis said, on the intercom. “Let's see if she's going to eat here in front of us, or if she's going to drag the prey away.”
The tyrannosaur bent down, and sniffed the carcass of the goat. A bird chirped: her head snapped up, alert, watchful. She looked back and forth, scanning in small jerking shifts.
“Like a bird,” Ellie said.
Still the tyrannosaur hesitated. “What is she afraid of?” Malcolm whispered.
“Probably another tyrannosaur,” Grant whispered. Big carnivores like lions and tigers often became cautious after a kill, behaving as if suddenly exposed. Nineteenth-century zoologists imagined the animals felt guilty for what they had done. But contemporary scientists documented the effort behind a kill-hours of patient stalking before the final lunge-as well as the frequency of failure. The idea of “nature, red in tooth and claw” was wrong; most often the prey got away. When a carnivore finally brought down an animal, it was watchful for another predator, who might attack it and steal its prize. Thus this tyrannosaur was probably fearful of another tyrannosaur.
The huge animal bent over the goat again. One great hind limb held the carcass in place as the jaws began to tear the flesh.
“She's going to stay,” Regis whispered. “Excellent.” The tyrannosaur lifted her head again, ragged chunks of bleeding flesh in her jaws. She stared at the Land Cruiser. She began to chew. They heard the sickening crunch of bones.
“Ewww,” Lex said, over the intercom. “That's disgusting.”
And then, as if caution had finally gotten the better of her, the tyrannosaur lifted the remains of the goat in her jaws and carried it silently back among the trees.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Tyrannosaurus rex, ” the tape said. The Land Cruisers started up, and moved silently off, through the foliage.
Malcolm sat back in his seat. “Fantastic,” he said.
Gennaro wiped his forehead. He looked pale.
Control
Henry Wu came into the control room to find everyone sitting in the dark, listening to the voices on the radio.
“-Jesus, if an animal like that gets out,” Gennaro was saying, his voice tinny on the speaker, “there'd be no stopping it.”
“No stopping it, no...”
“Huge, with no natural enemies...”
“My God, think of it...”
In the control room, Hammond said, “Damn those people. They are so negative.”
Wu said, “They're still going on about an animal escaping? I don't understand. They must have seen by now that we have everything under control. We've engineered the animals and engineered the resort....” He shrugged.
It was Wu's deepest perception that the park was fundamentally sound, as he believed his paleo-DNA was fundamentally sound. Whatever problems might arise in the DNA were essentially point-problems in the code, causing a specific problem in the phenotype: an enzyme that didn't switch on, or a protein that didn't fold. Whatever the difficulty, it was always solved with a relatively minor adjustment in the next version.
Similarly, he knew that Jurassic Park's problems were not fundamental problems. They were not control problems. Nothing as basic, or as serious, as the possibility of an animal escaping. Wu found it offensive to think that anyone would believe him capable of contributing to a system where such a thing could happen.
“It's that Malcolm,” Hammond said darkly. “He's behind it all. He was against us from the start, you know. He's got his theory that complex systems can't be controlled and nature can't be imitated. I don't know what his problem is. Hell, we're just making a zoo here. World's full of 'em, and they all work fine. But he's going to prove his theory or die trying. I just hope he doesn't panic Gennaro into trying to shut the park down.”
Wu said, “Can he do that?”
“No,” Hammond said. “But he can try. He can try and frighten the Japanese investors, and get them to withdraw funds. Or he can make a stink with the San José government. He can make trouble.”
Arnold stubbed out his cigarette. “Let's wait and see what happens,” he said. “We believe in the park. Let's see how it plays out.”
Muldoon got off the elevator, nodded to the ground-floor guard, and went downstairs to the basement. He flicked on the lights. The basement was filled with two dozen Land Cruisers, arranged in neat rows. These were the electric cars that would eventually form an endless loop, touring the park, returning to the visitor center.
In the corner was a Jeep with a red stripe, one of two gasoline-powered vebicles-Harding, the vet, had taken the other that morning-which could go anywhere in the park, even among the animals. The Jeeps were painted with a diagonal red stripe because for some reason it discouraged the triceratops from charging the car.
Muldoon moved past the Jeep, toward the back. The steel door to the armaments room was unmarked. He unlocked it with his key, and swung the heavy door wide. Gun racks lined the interior. He pulled out a Randler Shoulder Launcher and a case of canisters. He tucked two gray rockets under his other arm.
After locking the door behind him, he put the gun into the back seat of the Jeep. As he left the garage, he heard the distant rumble of thunder.
“Looks like rain,” Ed Regis said, glancing up at the sky.
The Land Cruisers had stopped again, near the sauropod swamp. A large herd of apatosaurs was grazing at the edge of the lagoon, eating the leaves of the upper branches of the palm trees. In the same area were several duckbilled hadrosaurs, which in comparison looked much smaller.
Of course, Tim knew the hadrosaurs weren't really small. It was only that the apatosaurs were so much larger. Their tiny heads reached fifty feet into the air, extending out on their long necks.
“The big animals you see are commonly called Brontosaurus, ” the recording said, “but they are actually Apatosaurus. They weigh more than thirty tons. That means a single animal is as big as a whole herd of modern elephants. And you may notice that their preferred area, alongside the lagoon, is not swampy. Despite what the books say, brontosaurs avoid swamps. They prefer dry land.”
“Brontosaurus is the biggest dinosaur, Lex,” Ed Regis said. Tim didn't bother to contradict him. Actually, Brachiosaurus was three times as large. And some people thought Ultrasaurus and Seismosaurus were even larger than Brachiosaurus. Seismosaurus might have weighed a hundred tons!
Alongside the apatosaurs, the smaller hadrosaurs stood on their hind legs to get at foliage. They moved gracefully for such large creatures. Several infant hadrosaurs scampered around the adults, eating the leaves that dropped from the mouths of the larger animals.
“The dinosaurs of Jurassic Park don't breed,” the recording said. “The young animals you see were introduced a few months ago, already hatched. But the adults nurture them anyway.”
There was the rolling growl of thunder. The sky was darker, lower, and menacing.
“Yeah, looks like rain, all right,” Ed Regis said.
The car started forward, and Tim looked back at the hadrosaurs. Suddenly, off to one side, he saw a pale yellow animal moving quickly. There were brownish stripes on its back. He recognized it instantly. “Hey!” he shouted. “Stop the car!”
:'What is it?" Ed Regis said.
'Quick! Stop the car!"
“We move on now to see the last of our great prehistoric animals, the stegosaurs,” the recorded voice said.
“What's the matter, Tim?”
“I saw one! I saw one in the field out there!”
“Saw what?”
“A raptor! In that field!”
“The stegosaurs are a mid-Jurassic animal, evolving about a hundred and seventy million years ago,” the recording said. “Several of these remarkable herbivores live here at Jurassic Park-”
“Oh, I don't think so, Tim,” Ed Regis said. “Not a raptor.”
“I did! Stop the car!”
There was a babble on the intercom, as the news was relayed to Grant and Malcolm. “Tim says he saw a raptor.”
“Where?”
“Back at the field.”
“Let's go back and look.”
“We can't go back,” Ed Regis said. “We can only go forward. The cars are programmed.”
“We can't go back?” Grant said.
“No,” Regis said. “Sorry, You see, it's kind of a ride-”
“Tim, this is Professor Malcolm,” said a voice cutting in on the intercom. “I have just one question for you about this raptor. How old would you say it was?”
“Older than the baby we saw today,” Tim said. “And younger than the big adults in the pen. The adults were six feet tall. This one was about half that size.”
“That's fine,” Malcolm said.
“I only saw it for a second,” Tim said.
“I'm sure it wasn't a raptor,” Ed Regis said. “It couldn't possibly be a raptor. Must have been one of the othys. They're always jumping their fences. We have a hell of a time with them.”
“I know I saw a raptor,” Tim said.
“I'm hungry,” Lex said. She was starting to whine.
In the control room, Arnold turned to Wu. “What do you think the kid saw?”
“I think it must have been an otby.”
Arnold nodded. “We have trouble tracking otbys, because they spend so much time In the trees.” The otbys were an exception to the usual minute-to-minute control they maintained over the animals. The computers were constantly losing and picking up the othys, as they went into the trees and then came down again.
“What burns me,” Hammond said, “is that we have made this wonderful park, this fantastic park, and our very first visitors are going through it like accountants, just looking for problems. They aren't experiencing the wonder of it at all.”
“That's their problem,” Arnold said. “We can't make them experience wonder.” The intercom clicked, and Arnold heard a voice drawl, “Ah, John, this is the Anne B over at the dock. We haven't finished offloading, but I'm looking at that storm pattern south of us. I'd rather not be tied up here if this chop gets any worse.”
Arnold turned to the monitor showing the cargo vessel, which was moored at the dock on the east side of the island. He pressed the radio button. “How much left to do, Jim?”
“Just the three final equipment containers. I haven't checked the mainfest, but I assume you can wait another two weeks for it. We're not well berthed here, you know, and we are one hundred miles offshore.”
“You requesting permission to leave?”
“Yes, John.”
“I want that equipment,” Hammond said. “That's equipment for the labs. We need it.”
“Yes,” Arnold said. “But you didn't want to put money into a storm barrier to protect the pier. So we don't have a good harbor. If the storm gets worse, the ship will be pounded against the dock. I've seen ships lost that way. Then you've got all the other expenses, replacement of the vessel plus salvage to clear your dock... and you can't use your dock until you do....”
Hammond gave a dismissing wave. “Get them out of there.”
“Permission to leave, Anne B, ” Arnold said, into the radio.
“See you in two weeks,” the voice said.
On the video monitor, they saw the crew on the decks, casting off the lines. Arnold turned back to the main console bank. He saw the Land Cruisers moving through fields of steam.
“Where are they now?” Hammond said.
“It looks like the south fields,” Arnold said. The southern end of the island had more volcanic activity than the north. “That means they should be almost to the stegos. I'm sure they'll stop and see what Harding is doing.”
Stegosaur
As the Land Cruiser came to a stop, Ellie Sattler stared through the plumes of steam at the stegosaurus. It was standing quietly, not moving. A Jeep with a red stripe was parked alongside it.
“I have to admit, that's a funny-looking animal,” Malcolm said.
The stegosaurus was twenty feet long, with a huge bulky body and vertical armor plates along its back. The tail had dangerous-looking three-foot spikes. But the neck tapered to an absurdly small head with a stupid gaze, like a very dumb horse.
As they watched, a man walked around from behind the animal. “That's our vet, Dr. Harding,” Regis said, over the radio. “He's anesthetized the stego, which is why it's not moving. It's sick.”
Grant was already getting out of the car, hurrying toward the motionless stegosaur. Ellie got out and looked back as the second Land Cruiser pulled up and the two kids jumped out. “What's he sick with?” Tim said.
“They're not sure,” Ellie said.
The great leathery plates along the stegosaur's spine drooped slightly. It breathed slowly, laboriously, making a wet sound with each breath.
“Is it contagious?” Lex said.
They walked toward the tiny head of the animal, where Grant and the vet were on their knees, peering into the stegosaur's mouth.
Lex wrinkled her nose. “This thing sure is big,” she said. “And smelly.”
“Yes, it is.” Ellie had already noticed the stegosaur had a peculiar odor, like rotting fish. It reminded her of something she knew, but couldn't quite place. In any case, she had never smelled a stegosaur before. Maybe this was its characteristic odor. But she had her doubts. Most herbivores did not have a strong smell. Nor did their droppings. It was reserved for the meat-eaters to develop a real stink.
“Is that because it's sick?” Lex asked.
“Maybe. And don't forget the vet's tranquilized it.”
“Ellie, have a look at this tongue,” Grant said.
The dark purple tongue drooped limply from the animal's mouth. The vet shone a light on it so she could see the very fine silvery blisters. “Microvesicles,” Ellie said. “Interesting.”
“We've had a difficult time with these stegos,” the vet said. “They're always getting sick.”
“What are the symptoms?” Ellie asked. She scratched the tongue with her fingernail. A clear liquid exuded from the broken blisters.
“Ugh,” Lex said,
“Imbalance, disorientation, labored breathing, and massive diarrhea,” Harding said. “Seems to happen about once every six weeks or so.”
“They feed continuously?”
“Oh yes,” Harding said. “Animal this size has to take in a minimum of five or six hundred pounds of plant matter daily just to keep going. They're constant foragers.”
“Then it's not likely to be poisoning from a plant,” Ellie said. Constant browsers would be constantly sick if they were eating a toxic plant. Not every six weeks.
“Exactly,” the vet said.
“May I?” Ellie asked. She took the flashlight from the vet. “You have pupillary effects from the tranquilizer?” she said, shining the light in the stegosaur's eye.
“Yes. There's a miotic effect, pupils are constricted.”
“But these pupils are dilated,” she said.
Harding looked. There was no question: the stegosaur's pupil was dilated, and did not contract when light shone on it. “I'll be damned,” he said. “That's a pharmacological effect.”
“Yes.” Ellie got back on her feet and looked around. “What is the animal's range?”
“About five square miles.”
“In this general area?” she asked. They were in an open meadow, with scattered rocky outcrops, and intermittent plumes of steam rising from the ground. It was late afternoon, and the sky was pink beneath the lowering gray clouds.
“Their range is mostly north and cast of here,” Harding said. “But when they get sick, they're usually somewhere around this particular area.”
It was an interesting puzzle, she thought. How to explain the periodicity of the poisoning? She pointed across the field. “You see those low, delicate-looking bushes?”
“West Indian lilac.” Harding nodded. “We know it's toxic. The animals don't eat it.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes. We monitor them on video, and I've checked droppings just to be certain. The stegos never eat the lilac bushes.”
Melia azedarach, called chinaberry or West Indian lilac, contained a number of toxic alkaloids. The Chinese used the plant as a fish poison.
“They don't eat it,” the vet said.
“Interesting,” Ellie said. “Because otherwise I would have said that this animal shows all the classic signs of Melia toxicity: stupor, blistering of the mucous membranes, and pupillary dilatation.” She set off toward the field to examine the plants more closely, her body bent over the ground. “You're right,” she said. “Plants are healthy, no sign of being eaten. None at all.”
“And there's the six-week interval,” the vet reminded her.
“The stegosaurs come here how often?”
“About once a week,” he said. “Stegos make a slow loop through their home-range territory, feeding as they go. They complete the loop in about a week.”
“But they're only sick once every six weeks.”
“Correct,” Harding said.
“This is boring,” Lex said.
“Ssshb,” Tim said. “Dr. Sattler's trying to think.”
“Unsuccessfully,” Ellie said, walking farther out into the field.
Behind her, she heard Lex saying, “Anybody want to play a little pickle?”
Ellie stared at the ground. The field was rocky in many places. She could hear the sound of the surf, somewhere to the left. There were berries among the rocks. Perhaps the animals were just eating berries. But that didn't make sense. West Indian lilac berries were terribly bitter.
“Finding anything?” Grant said, coming up to join her.
Ellie sighed. “Just rocks,” she said. “We must be near the beach, because all these rocks are smooth. And they're in funny little piles.”
“Funny little piles?” Grant said.
“All over. There's one pile right there.” She pointed.
As soon as she did, she realized what she was looking at. The rocks were worn, but it had nothing to do with the ocean. These rocks were heaped in small piles, almost as if they had been thrown down that way.
They were piles of gizzard stones.
Many birds and crocodiles swallowed small stones, which collected in a muscular pouch in the digestive tract, called the gizzard. Squeezed by the muscles of the gizzard, the stones helped crush tough plant food before it reached the stomach, and thus aided digestion. Some scientists thought dinosaurs also had gizzard stones. For one thing, dinosaur teeth were too small, and too little worn, to have been used for chewing food. It was presumed that dinosaurs swallowed their food whole and let the gizzard stones break down the plant fibers. And some skeletons had been found with an associated pile of small stones in the abdominal area. But it had never been verified, and-
“Gizzard stones,” Grant said.
“I think so, yes. They swallow these stones, and after a few weeks the stones are worn smooth, so they regurgitate them, leaving this little pile, and swallow fresh stones. And when they do, they swallow berries as well. And get sick.”
“I'll be damned,” Grant said. “I'm sure you're right.”
He looked at the pile of stones, brushing through them with his band, following the instinct of a paleontologist.
Then he stopped.
“Ellie,” he said. “Take a look at this.”
“Put it there, babe! Right in the old mitt!” Lex cried, and Gennaro threw the ball to her.
She threw it back so hard that his hand stung. “Take it easy! I don't have a glove!”
“You wimp!” she said contemptuously.
Annoyed, he fired the ball at her, and heard it smack! in the leather. “Now that's more like it,” she said.
Standing by the dinosaur, Gennaro continued to play catch as he talked to Malcolm. “How does this sick dinosaur fit into your theory?”
“It's predicted,” Malcolm said.
Gennaro shook his head. “Is anything not predicted by your theory?”
“Look,” Malcolm said. “It's nothing to do with me. It's chaos theory. But I notice nobody is willing to listen to the consequences of the mathematics. Because they imply very large consequences for human life. Much larger than Heisenberg's principle or Gödel's theorem, which everybody rattles on about. Those are actually rather academic considerations. Philosophical considerations. But chaos theory concerns everyday life. Do you know why computers were first built?”
“No,” Gennaro said.
“Burn it in there,” Lex yelled. “Computers were built in the late 1940s because mathematicians like John von Neumann thought that if you had a computer-a machine to handle a lot of variables simultaneously-you would be able to predict the weather. Weather would finally fall to human understanding. And men believed that dream for the next forty years. They believed that prediction was just a function of keeping track of things. If you knew enough, you could predict anything. That's been a cherished scientific belief since Newton.”
“And?”
“Chaos theory throws it right out the window. It says that you can never predict certain phenomena at all. You can never predict the weather more than a few days away. All the money that has been spent on long-range forecasting-about half a billion dollars in the last few decades-is money wasted. It's a fool's errand. It's as pointless as trying to turn lead into gold. We look back at the alchemists and laugh at what they were trying to do, but future generations will laugh at us the same way. We've tried the impossible-and spent a lot of money doing it. Because in fact there are great categories of phenomena that are inherently unpredictable.”
“Chaos says that?”
“Yes, and it is astonishing how few people care to hear it,” Malcolm said. “I gave all this information to Hammond long before he broke ground on this place. You're going to engineer a bunch of prehistoric animals and set them on an island? Fine. A lovely dream. Charming. But it won't go as planned. It is inherently unpredictable, just as the weather is.”
“You told him this?” Gennaro said.
“Yes. I also told him where the deviations would occur. Obviously the fitness of the animals to the environment was one area. This stegosaur is a hundred million years old. It isn't adapted to our world. The air is different, the solar radiation is different, the land is different, the insects are different, the sounds are different, the vegetation is different. Everything is different. The oxygen content is decreased. This poor animal's like a human being at ten thousand feet altitude. Listen to him wheezing.”
“And the other areas?”
“Broadly speaking, the ability of the park to control the spread of life forms. Because the history of evolution is that life escapes all barriers. Life breaks free. Life expands to new territories. Painfully, perhaps even dangerously. But life finds a way.” Malcolm shook his head. “I don't mean to be philosophical, but there it is.”
Gennaro looked over. Ellie and Grant were across the field, waving their arms and shouting.
“Did you get my Coke?” Dennis Nedry asked, as Muldoon came back into the control room.
Muldoon didn't bother to answer. He went directly to the monitor and looked at what was happening. Over the radio he heard Harding's voice saying, “-the stego-finally-handle on-now-”
“What's that about?” Muldoon said.
“They're down by the south point,” Arnold said. “That's why they're breaking up a little. I'll switch them to another channel. But they found out what's wrong with the stegos. Eating some kind of berry.”
Hammond nodded. “I knew we'd solve that sooner or later,” he said.
“It's not very impressive,” Gennaro said. He held the white fragment, no larger than a postage stamp, up on his fingertip in the fading light. “You sure about this, Alan?”
“Absolutely sure,” Grant said. “What gives it away is the patterning on the interior surface, the interior curve. Turn it over and you will notice a faint pattern of raised lines, making roughly triangular shapes.”
“Yes, I see them.”
“Well, I've dug out two eggs with patterns like that at my site in Montana.”
“You're saying this is a piece of dinosaur eggshell?”
“Absolutely,” Grant said.
Harding shook his head. “These dinosaurs can't breed.”
“Evidently they can,” Gennaro said.
“That must be a bird egg,” Harding said. “We have literally dozens of species on the island.”
Grant shook his head. “Look at the curvature. The shell is almost flat. That's from a very big egg. And notice the thickness of the shell. Unless you have ostriches on this island, it's a dinosaur egg.”
“But they can't possibly breed,” Harding insisted. “All the animals are female.”
“All I know,” Grant said, “is that this is a dinosaur egg.”
Malcolm said, “Can you tell the species?”
“Yes,” Grant said. “It's a velociraptor egg.”
Control
“Absolutely absurd,” Hammond said in the control room, listening to the report over the radio. “It must be a bird egg. That's all it can be.”
The radio crackled. He heard Malcolm's voice. “Let's do a little test, shall we? Ask Mr. Arnold to run one of his computer tallies.”
“Now?”
“Yes, right now. I understand you can transmit it to the screen in Dr. Harding's car. Do that, too, will you?”
“No problem,” Arnold said. A moment later, the screen in the control room printed out:
Total Animals 238____________________________________
Species Expected Found Ver
Tyrannosaurs 2 2 4.1
Maiasaurs 21 21 3.3
Stegosaurs 4 4 3.9
Triceratops 8 8 3.1
Procompsognathids 49 49 3.9
Othnielia 16 16 3.1
Velociraptors 8 8 3.0
Apatosaurs 17 17 3.1
Hadrosaurs 11 11 3.1
Dilophosaurs 7 7 4.3
Pterosaurs 6 6 4.3
Hypsilophodontids 33 33 2.9
Euoplocepbalids 16 16 4.0
Styracosaurs 18 18 3.9
Callovosaurs 22 22 4.1
Total 238 238
“I hope you're satisfied,” Hammond said. “Are you receiving it down there on your screen?”
“We see it,” Malcolm said.
“Everything accounted for, as always.” He couldn't keep the satisfaction out of his voice.
“Now then,” Malcolm said. “Can you have the computer search for a different number of animals?”
“Like what?” Arnold said.
“Try two hundred thirty-nine.”
“Just a minute,” Arnold said, frowning. A moment later the screen printed:
Total Animals 239____________________________________
Species Expected Found Ver
Tyrannosaurs 2 2 4.1
Maiasaurs 21 21 3.3
Stegosaurs 4 4 3.9
Triceratops 8 8 3.1
Procompsognathids 49 50 3.9
Othnielia 16 16 3.1
Velociraptors 8 8 3.0
Apatosaurs 17 17 3.1
Hadrosaurs 11 11 3.1
Dilophosaurs 7 7 4.3
Pterosaurs 6 6 4.3
Hypsilophodontids 33 33 2.9
Euoplocepbalids 16 16 4.0
Styracosaurs 18 18 3.9
Callovosaurs 22 22 4.1
Total 238 239
Hammond sat forward. “What the hell is that?”
“We picked up another compy.”
“From where?”
“I don't know!”
The radio crackled. “Now, then: can you ask the computer to search for, let us say, three hundred animals?”
“What is he talking about?” Hammond said, his voice rising. “Three hundred animals? What's he talking about?”
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