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escapefromrealitySimon Masrani is in Shanghai, about to announce the first hybrid dinosaur - Dr Henry Wu shows up to discuss future directions InGen could take. A local colleague could help.
Simon Masrani rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his text messages in deeply hungover disbelief. He was on personal leave, the first in over a year and had particularly asked that no one contact him about work just for the New Year. Yet there it was. A request for an urgent meeting from Henry Wu who was apparently in Shanghai, stalking him. Dammit, Henry. He should say no. He was going to say no. He texted back swiftly.
Noon OK? My hotel – we can do lunch afterwards..
God. He was such a pushover.
Henry showed up with a local in tow. His guest was taller and slimmer than him, with heavy-rimmed glasses and the yellowed fingers of an inveterate smoker. He smiled and held out his hand, saying a string of nonsense syllables that Simon belatedly realised was his name. Shit. He had caught precisely none of it.
"Happy New Year," he settled on saying, indicating the armchairs. "I hope you're enjoying the holiday."
"It's good to have a break," the man said. "This is a nice hotel." Definite accent, but obviously good at English. A damn sight better than Simon would ever be at Chinese.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Henry said, "but my colleague was in town for the holiday and – look, this is important, Simon."
"Sure, sure," Simon said sitting down and wishing he hadn’t. Would it be weird if he got up to get something for his hangover? "Fire away."
"It's the programme. You're still going to announce the Indominus Rex on your blog as planned, aren’t you?"
"I was going to do that today – new year, new dinosaur!"
"That's the thing," Henry said. "The public are going to keep wanting newer and newer dinosaurs. I want to give them something really unexpected. Your competitors are going to try to come up with something to rival the parks –"
"Can they?" Simon said. He wasn't sure how.
"My sources say that Seaworld's been doing something secretive with whales. It'll never be as immersive an experience as our parks, but people won't have to travel as far – and the whales aren't going to climb out and eat anyone other than a few trainers."
"Which will be terrible, but increase ticket sales in the long run," Henry's friend said. "Forget bread and circuses, people want blood and circuses."
That was a horrible joke to make but frankly, Simon could see his point.
"We need new specimens," Henry said, "if the hybridisation program is to continue at its projected pace. Unfortunately, the US authorities are keeping a strict eye on all new specimens both purchased directly by InGen and brought in under the Masrani umbrella."
Simon nodded, wishing he could just get a ginger ale and a painkiller without appearing horribly rude. Henry passed him a flimsy sheet of paper that appeared to be an abbreviated resume, showing higher degrees from prestigious universities, years of experience at various research centres – the details all vague.
"The People's Republic of China has numerous truly excellent and unique specimens that I feel InGen could work – and I don't use this word lightly - wonders with," Wu said, leaning forwards. "Specimens that no other company in the west will ever have. My colleague here is willing to help us source them and bring them out of the PRC, with full paperwork, and will be of invaluable help to me. Dr Jianyi Ni is a top-ranked biochemist in an elite mainland research facility –"
Oh dear, that could be awkward. Ordinary people didn't get described like that.
"Are you a communist party official, Jeannie? Is that how you say your name?"
"It isn't, and I don't particularly hold any political views or memberships."
"Good – how do you say your name?" He prided himself on being accurate with names; it was only polite.
The man came out with two syllables that corresponded to what was written down on the paper in only a vaguely tangential way as far as Simon could see, and grinned. "Why don't you just call me 'John'? At least my surname's easier."
"All right, John. Or would you prefer Dr Ni?"
Henry and John slid sidelong looks at each other like he'd got that wrong too.
"You're informal in America, Simon, John is fine."
"You can get me my samples?"
"Yes."
"You can deliver the results in the breeding and hybridisation programme?"
"Yes."
"And what do you want? Do you have a family you want me to relocate?"
"No. Just me. I want a job. I want a green card issued quietly. I want you, Mr Simon Masrani, to use your contacts to fast-track my US citizenship."
"What? Henry, I'm sure that John is an excellent scientist, but –"
"I've worked on exactly these programmes before," John said, before Henry could leap in to defend him. "Henry and I have communicated about our work – I'm going to use layman's terms now. Simon, you want dinosaurs, I can work with Henry and we'll give you a many new dinosaurs as you want. It'll be simple after what I was working on in my home labs."
"Which was?" Simon looked at him dubiously.
"I worked in the cryptid program," John said with a friendly smile. "China has dragons, Simon. Amongst other things."
"Dragons?" he said numbly, looking at Henry. The man wasn't looking like he thought it was nonsense, just seemed anxious that maybe his friend was talking himself out of a job. "I haven't heard about that."
"Neither has the State Council. Yet. You really should make use of me while people still think I'm on leave and don't realise I'm getting the hell out of - where do you get the hell out of in English, Henry?"
"Dodge," Henry said.
"Strange name for a place," John shrugged.
"Dragons," Simon said again.
"Dr Ni got me into his research centre," Henry said. "I've seen his work gulping down entire pigs. Dragons. Think what he can do for the program."
"Can you give me flying dinosaurs?" Simon said, feeling like he was a little boy on Christmas morning. Memories of cartoons and video games played in his mind. His parks would be unique forever. He didn't need any more money but – well, who didn't need more money? People would sign up for waiting lists decades long to come to the parks. InGen might actually turn a profit.
John laughed, and it sounded quite genuine. "Simon," he said, "What do you think a dragon is?"
"Welcome aboard, John," Simon said, reaching out, hand outstretched. His headache was quite gone. "Henry, apply for more funding. Anything the two of you want. Just – just give me what you say you can."
"You said something about lunch?" Henry said. "We can discuss timescales and what sort of samples are available."
"And most importantly," John said solemnly, "Whether you'd prefer us to be working on western or Asian style dragons." He grinned cheerfully, his whole face lighting up.
Simon laughed, feeling a sense of complete wonder. Dragons! This, he thought, this was what his wealth was given to him for. To make the world a more incredible place for everyone.
Simon Masrani rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his text messages in deeply hungover disbelief. He was on personal leave, the first in over a year and had particularly asked that no one contact him about work just for the New Year. Yet there it was. A request for an urgent meeting from Henry Wu who was apparently in Shanghai, stalking him. Dammit, Henry. He should say no. He was going to say no. He texted back swiftly.
Noon OK? My hotel – we can do lunch afterwards..
God. He was such a pushover.
Henry showed up with a local in tow. His guest was taller and slimmer than him, with heavy-rimmed glasses and the yellowed fingers of an inveterate smoker. He smiled and held out his hand, saying a string of nonsense syllables that Simon belatedly realised was his name. Shit. He had caught precisely none of it.
"Happy New Year," he settled on saying, indicating the armchairs. "I hope you're enjoying the holiday."
"It's good to have a break," the man said. "This is a nice hotel." Definite accent, but obviously good at English. A damn sight better than Simon would ever be at Chinese.
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Henry said, "but my colleague was in town for the holiday and – look, this is important, Simon."
"Sure, sure," Simon said sitting down and wishing he hadn’t. Would it be weird if he got up to get something for his hangover? "Fire away."
"It's the programme. You're still going to announce the Indominus Rex on your blog as planned, aren’t you?"
"I was going to do that today – new year, new dinosaur!"
"That's the thing," Henry said. "The public are going to keep wanting newer and newer dinosaurs. I want to give them something really unexpected. Your competitors are going to try to come up with something to rival the parks –"
"Can they?" Simon said. He wasn't sure how.
"My sources say that Seaworld's been doing something secretive with whales. It'll never be as immersive an experience as our parks, but people won't have to travel as far – and the whales aren't going to climb out and eat anyone other than a few trainers."
"Which will be terrible, but increase ticket sales in the long run," Henry's friend said. "Forget bread and circuses, people want blood and circuses."
That was a horrible joke to make but frankly, Simon could see his point.
"We need new specimens," Henry said, "if the hybridisation program is to continue at its projected pace. Unfortunately, the US authorities are keeping a strict eye on all new specimens both purchased directly by InGen and brought in under the Masrani umbrella."
Simon nodded, wishing he could just get a ginger ale and a painkiller without appearing horribly rude. Henry passed him a flimsy sheet of paper that appeared to be an abbreviated resume, showing higher degrees from prestigious universities, years of experience at various research centres – the details all vague.
"The People's Republic of China has numerous truly excellent and unique specimens that I feel InGen could work – and I don't use this word lightly - wonders with," Wu said, leaning forwards. "Specimens that no other company in the west will ever have. My colleague here is willing to help us source them and bring them out of the PRC, with full paperwork, and will be of invaluable help to me. Dr Jianyi Ni is a top-ranked biochemist in an elite mainland research facility –"
Oh dear, that could be awkward. Ordinary people didn't get described like that.
"Are you a communist party official, Jeannie? Is that how you say your name?"
"It isn't, and I don't particularly hold any political views or memberships."
"Good – how do you say your name?" He prided himself on being accurate with names; it was only polite.
The man came out with two syllables that corresponded to what was written down on the paper in only a vaguely tangential way as far as Simon could see, and grinned. "Why don't you just call me 'John'? At least my surname's easier."
"All right, John. Or would you prefer Dr Ni?"
Henry and John slid sidelong looks at each other like he'd got that wrong too.
"You're informal in America, Simon, John is fine."
"You can get me my samples?"
"Yes."
"You can deliver the results in the breeding and hybridisation programme?"
"Yes."
"And what do you want? Do you have a family you want me to relocate?"
"No. Just me. I want a job. I want a green card issued quietly. I want you, Mr Simon Masrani, to use your contacts to fast-track my US citizenship."
"What? Henry, I'm sure that John is an excellent scientist, but –"
"I've worked on exactly these programmes before," John said, before Henry could leap in to defend him. "Henry and I have communicated about our work – I'm going to use layman's terms now. Simon, you want dinosaurs, I can work with Henry and we'll give you a many new dinosaurs as you want. It'll be simple after what I was working on in my home labs."
"Which was?" Simon looked at him dubiously.
"I worked in the cryptid program," John said with a friendly smile. "China has dragons, Simon. Amongst other things."
"Dragons?" he said numbly, looking at Henry. The man wasn't looking like he thought it was nonsense, just seemed anxious that maybe his friend was talking himself out of a job. "I haven't heard about that."
"Neither has the State Council. Yet. You really should make use of me while people still think I'm on leave and don't realise I'm getting the hell out of - where do you get the hell out of in English, Henry?"
"Dodge," Henry said.
"Strange name for a place," John shrugged.
"Dragons," Simon said again.
"Dr Ni got me into his research centre," Henry said. "I've seen his work gulping down entire pigs. Dragons. Think what he can do for the program."
"Can you give me flying dinosaurs?" Simon said, feeling like he was a little boy on Christmas morning. Memories of cartoons and video games played in his mind. His parks would be unique forever. He didn't need any more money but – well, who didn't need more money? People would sign up for waiting lists decades long to come to the parks. InGen might actually turn a profit.
John laughed, and it sounded quite genuine. "Simon," he said, "What do you think a dragon is?"
"Welcome aboard, John," Simon said, reaching out, hand outstretched. His headache was quite gone. "Henry, apply for more funding. Anything the two of you want. Just – just give me what you say you can."
"You said something about lunch?" Henry said. "We can discuss timescales and what sort of samples are available."
"And most importantly," John said solemnly, "Whether you'd prefer us to be working on western or Asian style dragons." He grinned cheerfully, his whole face lighting up.
Simon laughed, feeling a sense of complete wonder. Dragons! This, he thought, this was what his wealth was given to him for. To make the world a more incredible place for everyone.
