𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐒 . ian malcolm

𝑰𝑽. ⸻ the arguments

THE GROUP HAD LEFT THE LAB, AND WERE STANDING OUTSIDE AGAIN. The afternoon sun was harsh, especially in such a humid environment. Minerva stood next to Dr. Malcolm, with her hands at her sides. He glanced at her a few times, but only for a moment before gawking at Ellie.

Hammond talked, "As I was saying, uh, we laid out lunch for you before you set out into the park. Our gourmet chef-"

Minerva was getting sick of the marketing Hammond had been talking about. Why invite serious scientists–and a crazy chaotician–to an island with dinosaurs, and discuss money-grab gimmicks with them? Alan must have been thinking similarly because he interrupted Hammond, "What are they doing?"

Minerva looked up. The sound of gears cranking was loud and so were the noises coming from the helpless animal being lifted into the enclosure. A cow was being lifted from the ground into a leafy enclosure.

"Oh...feeding them," Hammond replied cheekily. Minerva's mouth was ajar when she stepped forward to look at the strapped animal.

Hammond continued with his spiel on lunch, "Alejandro's, uh, prepared a delightful menu for us, Chilean sea bass, I believe. shall we?"

Alan ignored him, letting the sight of the cow lead him away from the others. The cow was let down into the enclosure–which was a too-small compound with metal bars above and a massive expanse of ferns and pre-positioned plants.

The dinosaur, in question, wasn't visible from where the group stood now. Minerva watched sadly as the cow was forced into a sudden death, the leaves moving around hastily, and the screeching and ripping noises made her mutter a quiet, "Oh, god."

"They should all be destroyed," a foreign voice–literally foreign and unfamiliar to Minerva–stated humorously.

A man wearing an average zoo-keeping getup walked over to the group. Minerva couldn't help but look at his strong legs. The khaki shorts were only so long.

"Ah, Robert, Robert Muldoon. My game warden from Kenya. But of an alarmist, I'm afraid, but knows more about raptors than anything."

Alan stepped over to him, rapid-fire questions in tow. "Tell me, what kind of metabolisms do they have? What's their growth rate?"

The Australian took off his hat, responding monotonously, "They're lethal at eight months. and I do mean lethal. I know most things that can hunt you, but the way these things move..."

"Fast for a biped?"

"Cheetah speed. Fifty, sixty miles per hour if they ever got out in the open. And they're astonishing jumpers."

Due to Minerva's line of work, she didn't know much about dinosaurs. But, she did know that how Alan felt now, was how she had felt in the lab.

"Yes, yes, so that's why we're taking extreme precautions," John said distinctly, before turning to Ellie and talking about the viewing experience. Minerva didn't want to hear anymore of it, and she didn't want to see Ian, who was standing directly on her left side. His black leather jacket would rub against her occasionally.

Quietly, she turned to him. Alan was prating with Muldoon, and Hammond had turned to speak to Ellie. "Aren't you hot?" Minerva asked him, so lowly that Ian was the only one who could hear her.

"I'm used to it. Being hot, I, uh, mean."

Alan was still bothering Muldoon. "Do they show intellegence? With the brain cavity..." Dr. Grant continued asking.

"They show extreme intelligence. Even problem solving intelligence. Especially the big one." Muldoon turned to the others and spoke slightly louder, "We've bred eight originally, but when she came in she took over the pride and killed all the two of the others. That one...when she looks at you, you can see she's working things out. That's why we have to feed them like this. She had them all attacking the fences when the feeders came."