Prologue
With the shades drawn, the bedroom lost the comfort of day. Pale moonbeams fought to enter, but the level of reflection offered by the blinds redirected the light, such that it went back through the window, only to enter the invisible spectrum almost immediately. The human eye could not detect this submicroscopic shift in frequency, and science had not yet found any biological eye capable of perceiving such tiny changes. A robot probably could, but this was 1942 and there weren’t any around yet.
The rattle of the radiator drowned the sound of the roughly 12.4 mile-per-hour wind. It might’ve troubled the radiator’s owners to know that the clanging was irregular, possibly caused by a disruption of the flow of steam within the pipes, or by air pockets caught within the steam itself, resulting in improper airflow. In this case, however, the owners’ worries about the sounds of the radiator did not overshadow their need for warmth, because it was January in Chicago, and the mercury thermometers indicated 12 degrees Fahrenheit, -11 degrees Celsius.
Two people were having sex. They were Frank and Betty Crichton, and they were conceiving me.
Chapter 23: Approaching College
College crept up on me with little warning, as one might expect after the high school years I spent in utmost popularity. In the summer of 1960, Lauren and I prepared to part ways after three years of intelligent conversation and barely-controlled passion. Her academics had led her to Stanford, while I still held out hope for acceptance to Harvard. On our final weekend together, we picnicked under an apple tree, one of a thousand trees in the Irving Corporation’s sprawling orchard.
“Lauren,” I said, running a hand through her golden hair, “what type of pesticide do you suppose they use in this orchard?”
She smiled coyly. “Everyone uses DDT, Michael,” she said. We kissed.
“Do they not realize what they’re doing?” I shouted. “DDT researchers have shown that the effects of the pesticide can include cancer! There are documented cases of other animals contracting disease from DDT, as well.”
Lauren began unbuttoning her shirt. “Yes, but the research also has not yet conclusively shown that DDT is the root cause. Thus far, the negative effects of the pesticide do not seem to outweigh the positive.”
“Who are we to play God?” I demanded.
It was too much. We made love for hours as the DDT spread around us. After a time, our eardrums picked up the sound of a gasoline-powered engine.
“What could that be?” Lauren asked. “There are no roads in the orchard.”
Then we saw it. A Jeep hurtled through the rows of trees, Irving Corporation logo emblazoned on its passenger door. There was no time to think. We picked up our clothes and ran. Caught up in the moment, I didn’t notice when Lauren tripped and fell, though now I know she must have. When I looked back, the Jeep had turned around, hauling Lauren back to the main compound, her screams passing through the leaves like so much wind in the orchard.
How could they have known we’d been discussing DDT? How could they have known I was correct about DDT having negative effects on the surrounding ecosystem, when it was still two years before Silent Spring announced the stunning effects of the pesticide? There seemed to be no way they could’ve overheard our conversation without super hearing or an invisibility cloak or mechanical apples. Then it dawned on me.
Tiny microphones.
Chapter 47: College
After delivering the incriminating documents to news outlets around the world, my life gradually returned to normal. The Irving Corporation crumbled, its ties to the Japanese revealed. In the two weeks since Lauren’s kidnapping I’d taken down one of the major technological evils in the world, but I’d also been forced to watch the life vanish from my lover’s eyes as I held her close. Thankfully, this was one of the prerequisites for acceptance to Harvard.
Chapter 82: Blockbuster
After the completion of Dinosaur Island (I refuse to call it by the title the publisher chose), my career saw a massive upswing. I’d had bestsellers before, but after copious fees and living expenses, I’d had to churn out another book about new technology or dangerously incautious scientists as fast as possible, just to stay afloat. Not so with this novel. I don’t know why I’d never thought about putting dinosaurs in a book before, but that did it. Sales were through the roof, I had time to enjoy life, and, suddenly, Steven Spielberg took notice of me.
I had long admired Steven. We shared a passion for film, science, and aliens. We both knew that it was not our place to meddle in the affairs of nature, because nature will always win against everything but a bomb. I was ecstatic to be working with someone so acutely aware of the process by which multiple photographed images linked via a filmstrip and displayed quickly in succession over a light projector congeal to form one artistic medium.
The movie exploded, though not in the literal sense of a sudden increase in the volume of energy in a given atmosphere, but rather in the cultural popularity sense. With proof positive of my novels’ abilities to translate to the screen, I received multiple offers from studios wishing to adapt stories such as Underwater Ball and Monkey Jungle. I’d shown that with a little research, a little English, and a whole lot of characters, I could make the money I needed to show the world the one thing it most needed to see.
Chapter 83: Proof that Global Warming is a Lie
Everybody believed eugenics, and that wasn’t real.
We hope you have enjoyed this exclusive view into the mind of a wonderful writer who will be sorely missed. While we may not have another Jurassic Park to look forward to, we can always just read it again.
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