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escapefromrealitySimon gets a (very small) flying dinosaur.
Simon Masrani scrubbed his arms to the elbow and donned the gloves and protective equipment the scientists demanded. Back in Hammond's day people had wandered in and out of the labs at will. Henry looked positively embarrassed if that was brought up.
"I was a lot younger," he'd said once. "And dependent on Mr Hammond's goodwill."
"Now I'm dependent on yours," Simon had joked. Henry and he had both laughed, but he never set foot in his chief scientist's domain without invitation. Which he had now, after authorising incredible payments, all of which had merely vanished into the financial aether. It wasn't that he minded; he'd promised Hammond after all that he'd spare no expense on the place. Still, the accountants got worried if money became untraceable. He supposed that the taxman would also be worried, but that was what he paid his worried accountants for.
In the money's place had come crates, large and small, containing fossils; a box of vials in a medical cooler and eventually, strolling into the arrivals hall on the strength of a swiftly arranged academic visa, the calmest defector that Simon could imagine. John had taken a few days to settle in and get over his jet lag and then just turned up for work. He and Henry had been hard at it ever since.
Lab techs flitted to and fro as he entered and he savoured the feeling of anonymity. It was getting harder to be unknown, although he still treasured the time an officious New York concierge saw him waiting in his car as his bags were collected and took him for his own driver, telling him to move at once. Ah, the hazards of being an Indian within a vehicle. For many his face was just too well known – he should never have listened to the advertising department.
John Ni waved him over to a raised platform.
"Simon, you're in time, come on!"
He hurried over, dodging the techs. Henry turned from a computer station and joined them. The platform had a plastic case on it, filled with a mossy substance, in which Simon could just about see grey-green things nestled.
"What's that?" he said.
"Moss," Henry said absently.
Oh. Right.
"And those? Are they eggs?"
"Yes, they are," John said. "And they're hatching."
"We're not going back to Hammond's tours, are we?" Simon said.
Henry gave him a look that he decided wasn't scathing simply because of the protective equipment.
"Absolutely not," he said. "This is a private event for you, showing you a unique creature."
"Look!" John said and they both turned to stare into the case. A crack had split one egg and then a fragment of shell fell away, as if battered from the inside.
Simon leaned closer, wondering what on earth he would see. The eggs weren't extremely large, but maybe the very biggest of dinosaurs started out quite small? Another piece of shell broke away and then a slimy grey creature was crawling out onto the moss, covered in some sort of - fur? It had a beak-like snout with what looked like the tiniest horn and was one of the uglier things that Simon had ever seen.
"What is it?" he asked cautiously.
"Confuciusornis sanctus," John said in some delight. He looked up. "It's a very early bird, Simon. You've heard of Archaeopteryx?"
Simon nodded.
"This is almost as early. And most of the specimens are held privately in China. Look at its little egg-tooth! We don't know yet if or when it'll lose it, the fossils tend to have damaged skulls."
"Modern feathers," Henry said proudly. "Chinese studies indicate that the adults had dark plumage, maybe with some red. And our little friend here will be able to fly."
"A flying dinosaur," John said with a grin. "But just a little one. The first one to have lived for millions of years, unless there was some other research group I didn't know about. Which there probably was, let's be honest."
"Well, it’s interesting," Simon said, "but it's just a little bird. People can see little birds from their windows. Why not make something even more interesting?"
"Henry?" John said.
"Simon," Henry said, "this is proof that the Chinese samples work. It's not something that anyone else has – you could have a unique aviary full of things like this. You could have an exclusive line of pet birds and charge the earth. We can make these little things and it will help pay for some of the bigger, more demanding projects."
"What happens when they escape and start taking over some poor modern bird's home?" Simon said. "There are parakeets all over London – I don't want to go down in history as the man who set dinosaurs free in the world! What's that thing that Dr Malcolm always says in his conferences?"
"He calls me a deranged mad scientist," Henry said calmly. "I find that extremely unprofessional of him."
"No, I mean Life will, uh, find a way," Simon said in a bad impersonation.
"With respect to Henry's earlier work," John said, taking his eyes from the chick, "I think his views have moved on. We won't be making all our creatures of one sex; we'll just sterilise them. There'll be no unauthorised reproduction."
"Oh," Simon said, looking from him to the chick and back again. "Can you do that? I suppose I never thought about sterilising a bird."
"I just made you a bird from one hundred million year old DNA," John said flatly. "I can spay your prehistoric chicken."
"Good," Simon said. "I – yes. Good." He went back to looking at the chick as Henry whispered furiously at John.
"For God's sake, he holds the purse strings! Where do you even pick up these phrases?"
"Late night cult movies."
Another egg had a crack across it. Soon there'd be another ugly little baby in the world, wondering why the mammals had got the jump on everyone. He felt very protective of them, the poor little things. Maybe a bespoke line of pets wasn't such a bad idea – he didn't care about the money, but surely they'd bring joy to people. He quite liked the idea of having a few sitting in his conservatory, chirping, or cawing, or making whatever noise an early bird would turn out to make. Henry was right – this was proof that his new samples and his new scientist were the real deal.
"I like them," he said decisively.
Henry and John stopped their whisper-argument and both looked at him in amazement, as if they'd almost forgotten he was there.
"You do?" Henry said.
"I think they're better than Archaeopteryx – it couldn't really fly, right?"
"Theories differ on that," Henry said. "But Confuciusornis definitely could."
"Absolutely," John said in a manner that made it clear he was defending the honour of his little bird.
"You are going to give me a flying dinosaur as well as a bird, though?"
"Simon," Henry said, "birds are dinosaurs."
He looked at them both, but neither of them laughed.
"OK," he said. "A bigger dinosaur, then."
"Absolutely," John said. "Though not a sauropod just yet. The amount of lift those things need – unbelievable. You really do need the resources of a major world power for that."
"He's joking," Henry said, shaking his head. "My colleague has a very silly sense of humour, Simon."
"You're no fun."
"Thank you, gentlemen," Simon said. "Keep me posted on these little fellows' progress. And I look forward to the dragons, John."
He left them to their work, reluctantly going back to the world that did not, as yet contain creatures from legends. But it would. Simon grinned, though no one could see it behind his mask. Early birds, huh? He'd take it as a sign that he'd catch a wyrm.
Simon Masrani scrubbed his arms to the elbow and donned the gloves and protective equipment the scientists demanded. Back in Hammond's day people had wandered in and out of the labs at will. Henry looked positively embarrassed if that was brought up.
"I was a lot younger," he'd said once. "And dependent on Mr Hammond's goodwill."
"Now I'm dependent on yours," Simon had joked. Henry and he had both laughed, but he never set foot in his chief scientist's domain without invitation. Which he had now, after authorising incredible payments, all of which had merely vanished into the financial aether. It wasn't that he minded; he'd promised Hammond after all that he'd spare no expense on the place. Still, the accountants got worried if money became untraceable. He supposed that the taxman would also be worried, but that was what he paid his worried accountants for.
In the money's place had come crates, large and small, containing fossils; a box of vials in a medical cooler and eventually, strolling into the arrivals hall on the strength of a swiftly arranged academic visa, the calmest defector that Simon could imagine. John had taken a few days to settle in and get over his jet lag and then just turned up for work. He and Henry had been hard at it ever since.
Lab techs flitted to and fro as he entered and he savoured the feeling of anonymity. It was getting harder to be unknown, although he still treasured the time an officious New York concierge saw him waiting in his car as his bags were collected and took him for his own driver, telling him to move at once. Ah, the hazards of being an Indian within a vehicle. For many his face was just too well known – he should never have listened to the advertising department.
John Ni waved him over to a raised platform.
"Simon, you're in time, come on!"
He hurried over, dodging the techs. Henry turned from a computer station and joined them. The platform had a plastic case on it, filled with a mossy substance, in which Simon could just about see grey-green things nestled.
"What's that?" he said.
"Moss," Henry said absently.
Oh. Right.
"And those? Are they eggs?"
"Yes, they are," John said. "And they're hatching."
"We're not going back to Hammond's tours, are we?" Simon said.
Henry gave him a look that he decided wasn't scathing simply because of the protective equipment.
"Absolutely not," he said. "This is a private event for you, showing you a unique creature."
"Look!" John said and they both turned to stare into the case. A crack had split one egg and then a fragment of shell fell away, as if battered from the inside.
Simon leaned closer, wondering what on earth he would see. The eggs weren't extremely large, but maybe the very biggest of dinosaurs started out quite small? Another piece of shell broke away and then a slimy grey creature was crawling out onto the moss, covered in some sort of - fur? It had a beak-like snout with what looked like the tiniest horn and was one of the uglier things that Simon had ever seen.
"What is it?" he asked cautiously.
"Confuciusornis sanctus," John said in some delight. He looked up. "It's a very early bird, Simon. You've heard of Archaeopteryx?"
Simon nodded.
"This is almost as early. And most of the specimens are held privately in China. Look at its little egg-tooth! We don't know yet if or when it'll lose it, the fossils tend to have damaged skulls."
"Modern feathers," Henry said proudly. "Chinese studies indicate that the adults had dark plumage, maybe with some red. And our little friend here will be able to fly."
"A flying dinosaur," John said with a grin. "But just a little one. The first one to have lived for millions of years, unless there was some other research group I didn't know about. Which there probably was, let's be honest."
"Well, it’s interesting," Simon said, "but it's just a little bird. People can see little birds from their windows. Why not make something even more interesting?"
"Henry?" John said.
"Simon," Henry said, "this is proof that the Chinese samples work. It's not something that anyone else has – you could have a unique aviary full of things like this. You could have an exclusive line of pet birds and charge the earth. We can make these little things and it will help pay for some of the bigger, more demanding projects."
"What happens when they escape and start taking over some poor modern bird's home?" Simon said. "There are parakeets all over London – I don't want to go down in history as the man who set dinosaurs free in the world! What's that thing that Dr Malcolm always says in his conferences?"
"He calls me a deranged mad scientist," Henry said calmly. "I find that extremely unprofessional of him."
"No, I mean Life will, uh, find a way," Simon said in a bad impersonation.
"With respect to Henry's earlier work," John said, taking his eyes from the chick, "I think his views have moved on. We won't be making all our creatures of one sex; we'll just sterilise them. There'll be no unauthorised reproduction."
"Oh," Simon said, looking from him to the chick and back again. "Can you do that? I suppose I never thought about sterilising a bird."
"I just made you a bird from one hundred million year old DNA," John said flatly. "I can spay your prehistoric chicken."
"Good," Simon said. "I – yes. Good." He went back to looking at the chick as Henry whispered furiously at John.
"For God's sake, he holds the purse strings! Where do you even pick up these phrases?"
"Late night cult movies."
Another egg had a crack across it. Soon there'd be another ugly little baby in the world, wondering why the mammals had got the jump on everyone. He felt very protective of them, the poor little things. Maybe a bespoke line of pets wasn't such a bad idea – he didn't care about the money, but surely they'd bring joy to people. He quite liked the idea of having a few sitting in his conservatory, chirping, or cawing, or making whatever noise an early bird would turn out to make. Henry was right – this was proof that his new samples and his new scientist were the real deal.
"I like them," he said decisively.
Henry and John stopped their whisper-argument and both looked at him in amazement, as if they'd almost forgotten he was there.
"You do?" Henry said.
"I think they're better than Archaeopteryx – it couldn't really fly, right?"
"Theories differ on that," Henry said. "But Confuciusornis definitely could."
"Absolutely," John said in a manner that made it clear he was defending the honour of his little bird.
"You are going to give me a flying dinosaur as well as a bird, though?"
"Simon," Henry said, "birds are dinosaurs."
He looked at them both, but neither of them laughed.
"OK," he said. "A bigger dinosaur, then."
"Absolutely," John said. "Though not a sauropod just yet. The amount of lift those things need – unbelievable. You really do need the resources of a major world power for that."
"He's joking," Henry said, shaking his head. "My colleague has a very silly sense of humour, Simon."
"You're no fun."
"Thank you, gentlemen," Simon said. "Keep me posted on these little fellows' progress. And I look forward to the dragons, John."
He left them to their work, reluctantly going back to the world that did not, as yet contain creatures from legends. But it would. Simon grinned, though no one could see it behind his mask. Early birds, huh? He'd take it as a sign that he'd catch a wyrm.
