Chaotic Slideshow - Chapter 04 (Patreon)

...on a black-colored slice that contained one of the most well-known logos from his previous life. A red circle, surrounded by a yellow edge, and the bones of one of the most terrifying animals to ever exist.

I had only a moment to think about it before the wheel vanished, and instead, a rainbow-colored spot of light appeared in front of me. A line of light shot out from it in one direction, extending a few feet before it stopped and started turning around the central point. It quickly created a swirling, rainbow-colored circle in front of me.

Then it pulsed, as if somebody had dropped a stone in a pond, and as the middle reached out, it continued expanding until it touched my chest through the Barrier of the Wind King. I felt my body freeze, then felt the irresistible pull, and within a second, all I could see were kaleidoscope lights blasting my retinas with enough light to fill at least three dozen raves.

I’m sure my internal and external screaming was mightily entertaining to whoever infernal, abyssal, or eldritch being gave me access to the Chaos Wheel.

Before I could worry about what was going to happen to me, the feeling vanished, and I found myself falling to my knees, vomiting literal rainbow.

Staring down at the puddle of rainbowy liquid as the ground soaked it in, I wiped at my mouth with a groan, then spat once more, getting rid of the last chunks of whatever it was. My stomach was slowly settling down, and I could feel the Barrier of the Wind King settling around me, as if patting my back and supporting me.

Letting out another groan, I blinked my eyes, the spots of light seared into them, and finally could see where I was. All I could see was dirty concrete, with several gums basically tread into the ground so hard they had become one with it.

Weird, but sadly, I had seen weirder.

Then I slowly raised my hand and couldn’t help but blink again.

SNAP

A flash went off, and I stared at the tourist, dressed in peak nineties fashion, as he snapped a picture of me. Around him stood dozens of people, all of them staring at me with varying degrees of amazement or fear.

The first camera flash seemed to be the catalyst, and soon a bunch more followed, further stressing my poor retinas.

Staggering to my feet, I looked around.

It was Times Square, with the Marriott Hotel towering over me and the crowd gathered around me. Everything else was covered in advertisements, the air filled with smog, and the sounds of New York traffic.

I turned around in wonder, trying to take in the sight while also figuring out when I was. The Jurassic Park franchise spanned three decades. Though based on the fashion and technology visible, I was somewhere very familiar.

As if I had just returned to my late teenage years.

I’m glad some of those hairstyles vanished…

The tourists began to yell at me, as if I was part of some production or performing a magic trick. Then, as I finally managed to stabilize myself and looked at them properly, I could see the moment my Menacing Curse activated. Mixed with Larger Than Life, it caused the entire crowd to fall silent and take a step back. I could hear several people cursing or yelping, and even a baby starting to cry.

Then somebody snapped another picture, and I could hear someone else calling for the police.

Hating the aftertaste in my mouth, I glanced back and saw that the backpack was still on my back. So, instead of dealing with the crowd and the police officers elbowing their way through it, I simply used the Barrier of the Wind King to turn invisible. Then, using the edges of the power, I sent a gust of wind through the crowd, stirring up dust and whatever other nasty stuff was on the ground, causing everyone to scream and cover their faces.

I used the moment to break through the crowd and make my escape.

I spent the next hour finding a hotel deeper into New York that accepted cash and didn’t ask questions. I used their shower to refresh myself, then put my backpack down, filling my pockets with the essentials. The hotel wasn’t the worst, so I was semi-confident that leaving my backpack behind wouldn’t result in me losing it.

For a moment, I considered summoning the Snow Tiger to protect it, but I suppose my survival tools in there were less suspicious when found than an actual several-hundred-pound apex predator. Throwing away that thought, I made sure I had my money with me and left the room.

Thankfully, with my status as the savior of the world, well, one of them, and my work in those production facilities, I didn’t really hurt for money. So when I took out one hundred thousand dollars in various notes and random quantities, the bank just directly called the Secret Service, then went to fulfill my request.

And that money was currently in my pocket. It took up surprisingly little space.

After a short conversation with the disinterested receptionist, I headed for the nearby library.

I miss the internet…

It took me almost an hour to walk to the library, as Americans, for some reason, were allergic to public transportation and livable cities. There, after a few questions, I was directed to the periodicals and newspaper section, where I immediately found out that I was in 1993.

And then I saw the important headline: VICTIM’S FAMILY SUES INGEN

It detailed, in very vague terms, that during a routine operation, the victim was killed due to InGen’s negligence, and now the family was seeking compensation for the loss of their loved one. The article wasn’t saying what the operation was, but I was sure that this was from the famous opening scene of the movie.

“Alright,” I muttered, sitting in the dusty and barely lit room of the local library. “Now I just need to get to Costa Rica and get on those helicopters.”

I can’t believe I already missed the world semi-destroyed by aliens. There, if I wanted to go somewhere, they only asked me to wait until they gathered my security team, then I was off. Not that I had much time to travel with my work at the factories and ushering the world into the age of robotics.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have any papers to prove my identity, so international travel was a bit hard.

Unless…

I had an idea. A stupid idea, but one I had always wanted to try.

Putting the newspapers back in their proper place, I left the room and walked to the counter, where the elderly Black librarian was casually reading. When I first entered and she saw me, she barely flinched, which told me she was one of those take-no-shit types of librarians.

“Find everything, honey?” she asked with a sweet but raspy voice, evidence of smoking.

I nodded and leaned against the faux-wood counter, trying to look casual. “Almost.”

“Oh, do tell, honey. The library is here to help,” she said with an arched eyebrow, suggesting that she immediately saw through my bullshit.

“Well, I’m looking for a local shoemaker. Recently lost my favorite pair of boots, and I wanted to see if I can find something that fits me…” I told her with a smile.

I tried to act nonchalant, but it took a lot of effort to hold back my smile.

I always wanted to say that line…

The old lady looked me over, eyeing me in the way old ladies eye younger people, before scoffing. “We deal with books, young man, not boots. But try the cobbler two streets over. They have quality products.” The moment she finished, she shook her head in a disappointed manner and returned to her book, muttering about young people.

I said my goodbyes and left.

Finding the cobbler took a while as I tried to navigate New York’s streets, but in the end, I found the small shop after asking a few people walking by. Granted, most of them began to walk faster the moment they saw me, flinching in panic, but a few braver ones stopped and answered my questions.

I entered the small shop, the ringing of the doorbell following me as the smells of leather, oil, and machines hit my nose. Looking around, I saw rows and rows of finished boots and shoes.

I had maybe a few seconds to look around before a curtain was lifted, and an older gentleman appeared. He had thinning, dirty white hair and was wearing dirty overalls while wiping his hands with an equally dirty rag.

He said nothing, but the moment he saw me, he flinched. To his defense, he recovered quickly. He grunted, lifted the curtain behind him, and motioned for me to enter. “Get in. Don’t touch anything.”

I was led through a small workshop by the old man, passing through a few doors before arriving in a smallish room where a rather large gentleman was sitting in a chair and reading his newspaper. He looked up when we entered, barely flinched, then looked me over before nodding to the old man. The old man nodded, said nothing else, and left me there.

The giant man stepped closer and motioned with his hand. I raised my hands in a T-pose, and he quickly searched me. Not finding anything, as everything was in the pockets of my jacket, he stepped back.

Once again grunting, he went to the door on the other side of the small room, knocked a few times before opening it, and waved me through with another very unenthusiastic grunt.

“Thank you,” I told him with a smile and entered. He was a bit surprised at my behavior. I suppose most people in this place weren’t the most polite.

One more corridor later, and I found myself meeting with a casually dressed man, gnawing on a toothpick as he scanned me from top to bottom, trying to hide the way he was forced to step back in fear due to my curse.

To my disappointment, he didn’t look even slightly Italian.

“What do you need?” he asked, never saying hello, asking for my name, or offering his own.

I didn’t mind.

“I need to get to San Jose, Costa Rica, as fast as possible. Comfort is not an issue,” I told him without any preamble. If this didn’t work, I would just sneak onto the first commercial flight while invisible. We were pre-TSA, so it would be easy. However, it was also the nineties, so there wasn’t a direct flight to San Jose from New York that departed every hour. Thus circumventing all that waiting in airports.

The man hummed thoughtfully. “Right. And I assume price is not an issue?” he asked sarcastically.

I just nodded. “As long as you don’t try too hard to fleece me, I won’t cave your face in.”

“Fair,” he nodded.

Then he turned around and began walking away. “Come on. Let’s sit you down before we talk. Want anything to drink?”

“Some water, if you could. Thanks.”

“Polite, aren’t you?”

“It’s more helpful than you think,” I told him.

He eyed me with skepticism, but apparently my Menacing and Larger Than Life abilities had convinced him that I was for real. I was pretty sure that without them, none of this would be happening. The old lady at the library probably would have sent me to a real shoemaker. But to them, I looked like I belonged in this life, so they treated me that way.

I was led into a small room without windows, and a nervous young guy served me a bottle of sparkling water as the first man vanished somewhere.

I was barely halfway through the bottle when the guy returned, with a packet under his arm, the toothpick still in his mouth.

He sat down opposite me and placed it on the desk.

“Right, here is what we arranged,” he began, opening the file and pulling out papers and documents. “First, a direct flight on a postal plane to Jacksonville. Two and a half hours. From there, another one-and-a-half-hour flight to an airport near Miami. There, our guy is going to meet you and fly you directly on a personal plane to Cancún. If anyone asks, you’re a journalist traveling to interview your contact about drug trafficking,” he explained with a smirk while sliding over official paperwork. “From there, another plane will take you to San José. Altogether, around eight hours. With no paperwork showing you ever appearing anywhere.”

I was impressed. Arranging something like this in the nineties couldn’t have been easy.

He looked at me, a bit smug. “Satisfied?”

“Very,” I told him as I read the paperwork. Then I had another stupid idea. “Can you make an ID out to Timothy Walker, journalist?”

The man didn’t even blink. “How good?”

“As long as it lasts a month, I’m happy.”

“Give us fifteen minutes.”

I nodded, and he left me with my travel itinerary. I spent the next few minutes familiarizing myself with the route and the passwords I would need to use after Jacksonville. He returned a few minutes later to take my picture against the blank wall before leaving again.

When the promised time was up, he returned with a small box containing my new ID, including a passport, and a visibly counterfeit camera – the label said Mikon. He put them down and showed them to me.

Finally, after reviewing everything, I nodded. “Price?”

“Tickets are twenty, and the ID is five,” the man told me.

I had no idea if that was a lot or not. “Twenty it is,” I said and reached into my pocket. As the man scoffed in disappointment, I began pulling out stacks of money. Two stacks of hundred-dollar bills, bound together with plastic, were placed on the table.

The man’s eyes widened, and he hesitantly reached for them, quickly fanning through the bills before pulling out a few and holding them up to the light.

While he was looking, I swept everything into one of my pockets, including the camera, and when he looked back, I just smiled as he did a double take, looking for the items.

“Everything in order?” I asked.

He opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head. “No. I mean yes. Everything seems to be alright. Our deal is done. Where are you staying? We will send a taxi in two hours.”

I told him the address of the hotel; he wrote it down, and before long I found myself once again on the dirty streets of New York.

Letting out a satisfied sigh, my pockets heavier with the evidence of the crime I had committed. I had two hours to return to my hotel and prepare for my flight. I signaled for a taxi, got in, and told the driver to take me to the nearest department store.

I bought a period-appropriate travel bag and a nice shirt-and-pants outfit that wouldn’t look odd in Costa Rica before sitting down in a fast-food joint and having a greasy meal.

Just as I was about to take my first bite of the juicy burger, glistening with fat and meat juices, with sauce dripping down the sides, a blue window appeared in front of me.

[Had a taste of the seedier side of the world! 1 x Random Bronze Familiar Ticket]

I rolled my eyes and moved the burger through the window, distorting it for a moment before it vanished. Ignoring the ticket for now, I finished my meal. Cleaning my hands, I finally reached into my pocket and pulled out the bronze ticket before simply tearing it apart. I wasn’t really looking forward to it. Bronze familiars weren’t the most useful…

A gigantic hamster wheel, with a hamster made out of dark matter, spun before my mind’s eye, and soon a new life was born in a pocket inside my soul.

[Virgo (Rare Familiar): Fairy Tail - Virgo is a Celestial Spirit representing the Virgo constellation. She takes the form of a maid with considerable physical prowess and skill in Earth Magic. She is also a massive masochist, which aids her endurance. As a Celestial Spirit, she is unable to be killed by normal means, and her power scales with her owner.]

I stared at the message written in eldritch script as I felt my soul grow a new slot that was minuscule and, at the same time, contained an entire world. Or maybe part of a world. All I knew was that it hurt like nothing else.

Breathing heavily, I felt my body shake a little as, once again, a feeling rushed through my soul. It honestly felt like a polite knock.

Letting out a sigh, I felt a bit conflicted. Virgo was an intelligent familiar that would follow me no matter where I went. She was also a hardcore masochist. Still, she was powerful, so I shan’t complain.

Much.

Looking around the eatery, I saw a few people, but as most of them were absorbed in their meals and the workers didn’t seem to be more than sixteen, absorbed in some kind of magazine, I just shrugged and summoned the famous golden key into my hand.

I held it out and spoke the words that came to my lips from the same place where all my powers originated.

“Open the Gate of Maiden. Virgo!”

There was a small rumble as a discreet blue magical circle spun into the air before she stepped out of it. The entire display lasted no longer than a second. A few people still looked up at the disturbance, but staying true to their New York roots, when nothing really happened, they went back to their meals.

Virgo was a beautiful woman with long pink hair, wearing a black shirt and blazer with white accents that formed a shape that gave the illusion, if you knew what you were looking for, that she was wearing an apron. She wore a black skirt and thigh-high white socks, ending in sensible shoes. On her wrists, she wore two black bracelets that looked like chains woven together artistically.

She bowed, almost at a ninety-degree angle.

“Greetings, Master. I greet you as your new, devoted servant.”

She straightened and looked at me with a placid expression, simply waiting for me to speak. “I expected bigger fireworks,” I finally said, not really knowing how to handle this. Summoning live people, even if they were technically Celestial Spirits, was a bit much.

She bowed again. “My presence and appearance are tailored to my Master. If they wish for majesty, I shall provide it. If they wish for privacy, then I shall do my utmost to provide that,” she explained.

Which made a lot of sense from what I knew about Celestial Spirits. They were all about becoming the best partners for their summoners.

Then she continued. “However, if Master thinks I have done something wrong, Master is free to punish me. This location has many hot griddles if Master wishes to do so.”

I gave her a look, but she just stared back blankly.

We spent a minute just staring at each other before I let out a deep sigh, already regretting tearing that ticket.

“You’re up to date on things, right?”

Virgo nodded. “Knowledge of the general situation was granted to me, Master. Please test me so that I can make a mistake and you can punish me for it.”

I raised the key and sent her back to the Familiar Space. She pouted at me, but otherwise didn’t resist.

Then I stood up from my finished meal.

Time to head to Costa Rica…

Travel to San José was pretty boring. The guys I found in New York did a great job. By the time I repacked my military backpack into a bag one would use when traveling to Costa Rica, the taxi was there.

I got in, and the guy didn’t even say a word, just sped off.

At the airport, I was taken to a hangar, circumventing the entire terminal, where I was escorted by another guy who didn’t say a word to me to a plane that was almost finished being stuffed with all sorts of containers. The plane had a small room with a few rows of seats where I was directed and left alone.

Nobody checked on me. Nobody told me to tighten my seatbelt.

The plane just started moving one second, and we were flying. We landed in Jacksonville at the promised time, where another mute person picked me up and drove me over to a smaller airstrip, where a small Cessna was waiting for me.

Miami was busy, but the moment we landed, the plane was pulled into a hangar, and I was disembarked. A guy with gold chains and a Hawaiian shirt approached me, and after I showed him the passport, he took me to another hangar.

Thankfully, even this guy refused to say a word to me. He just took me to a bathroom, allowing me to go if I wanted, before taking me to another plane, this one a bit more robust than the Cessna. Though I didn’t recognize it, I felt that asking about it would just arouse suspicion.

I just got on, put my seatbelt on, and waited, looking out the window.

We landed in Cancún, where a group of mean-looking Mexican men were waiting for me.

I suppose it was too easy…

Letting out a sigh, I patted the pilot on the shoulder and left the plane, heading directly for the welcoming committee. I stopped a few feet from them as they eyed me. Some of them flinched, but most of them almost managed to hide the instinctive dread I evoked in people.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted them in Spanish before quietly reciting the password, making sure to maintain eye contact.

They blinked, but otherwise didn’t react. A few of them exchanged glances before the man in the lead growled. “Come, gringo…” the man said, and turned around.

Well, no fight… yay…

I was led to a rickety airplane that made me thankful I had the Barrier of the Wind King.

Once again, I was stuffed into the airplane, and we were off.

Stepping off the airplane in the warm weather of San José, I stretched and let out a groan, as the airplane wasn’t the most comfortable. A local was already there, waiting for me with a serious look on his face.

As I finished my stretches, he ran up to me with a fearful look on his face. “S-senior, welcome to… Costa Rica!” he said in slightly broken English with a heavy accent.

I answered in Spanish, much to his relief. “Thank you. Do you perhaps have a place where I could use a toilet?” I asked with a smile.

He nodded so fast I was afraid his head would fall off. “Yes, yes, please follow me!”

In the bathroom, I took off the attire I had been wearing since appearing here and put on the things I had bought in the department store. A black shirt, white pants, brown loafers, a faux-leather jacket, and a white trilby. Then I hung the fake camera around my neck and handed everything aside from my papers and change of clothes that were in my bag to Virgo.

She spent a moment making sure my clothing was right before nodding and taking my bag in her arms and leaving for the Familiar Space.

I returned to the waiting guy, who was leaning against the wall and smoking. He looked up from his woolgathering and looked me over.

“Where to, Senior?” he asked as we began walking toward the exit.

“There is a helicopter pad where a very wealthy man usually lands. Hammond, if you’re familiar with him,” I explained.

It took him a few seconds before he nodded. “I know the place.”

“Then please take me there,” I told him. Seeing him hesitate, I just smiled, reached into my pocket, and pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. I folded it in my palm and offered it to him. “Just near it is enough.”

His eyes lit up, and we were on our way.

Apparently, I was lucky.

The helicopter was there, visibly being refueled. So there was no doubt that somebody was going to use it soon. Whether it was Hammond with Grant and the others or somebody else didn’t matter. Granted, I was here at the behest of an incomprehensibly powerful and chaotic being. I was probably watching the same helicopter being prepared that took the heroes of the movie to the island for the first time.

After I sent my guide away, I spent some time invisible, making sure to figure out the best way to approach the helicopter through all the fences and other security features. Though if my plan worked, then there was no need for sneaking around.

I sat in a nearby eatery and had a meal, then walked around, taking in the sights and ignoring Virgo’s requests to summon her to help me serve food.

Finally, after several hours, a line of cars showed up at the private helipad, with locals all watching warily as several security personnel exited the vehicles first. They looked around before approaching the two cars in the middle of the convoy.

From the one in the back, two people emerged. One was a weary-looking, tired individual dressed like a stereotypical lawyer, and the other was a flamboyant man in dark leather, with curly hair and sunglasses, looking around curiously.

The other car held John Hammond in all his elderly, slightly rotund glory, followed by Alan Grant and the paleobotanist lady whose name I always forgot. She was pretty, though.

Taking a last sip of my drink, I cracked my neck a little, placed some money on the table, and stood up. Making sure that my hat was on and my camera was still functioning – I had tried to take a few photos after using my Tinker power to ensure it worked without any issues and added digital memory to it – I  took a deep breath and began power walking toward the group heading to the helipad.

“Mr. Hammond! Mr. Hammond!” I began yelling as soon as he was close enough.

The security instantly reacted, zeroing in on me and ready to stop me, but the moment they looked at me, they all flinched, allowing me to slip through their net and approach the CEO of InGen, who looked rather put out by my presence.

“Ahh, my young friend, how may I help you?” he asked, looking at me with a smile, but I could see in his eyes that he instantly recognized what I was. Or rather, what I pretended to be.

“Timothy Walker, journalist,” I introduced myself, lifting my camera as if that would work as my ID. “Is it true that InGen shareholders have threatened to remove you as the CEO due to the gross negligence that resulted in a worker’s death?”

Just to make it authentic, I raised the camera toward his flabbergasted face and snapped a photo. If I ever had the time and space to put together a museum, it was going to be displayed next to the recorder containing Whitmore’s speech.

Behind him, the rest of the group listened with varied reactions. The lawyer guy and the man in the leather jacket were not at all surprised, though the lawyer seemed dismayed by my presence, while the leather jacket guy looked on with a smirk.

Grant and his friend, however, looked shocked.

Credit where credit is due, Hammond recovered remarkably quickly. “Dear oh, dear. While there was certainly an accident, there was never a question about the shareholders’ confidence in my leadership,” the man declared. “While the loss of life is terrible, and I wish it hadn’t happened, I’m certain it was but an accident.”

I nodded as if I believed him. “That’s all well and good, but it still hasn’t been revealed to the public what happened during this supposed accident. I have come here personally to see if you were willing to sit down for an interview.”

Hammond looked me over, then glanced back at the anxious paleontologist and paleobotanist whose opinions of him and his park would decide its future, and smiled. It looked like a sweet smile, but I could see in his eyes that he had already decided I was trouble. “Well, then. You came just at the right time, young Timothy. I was about to take these fine ladies and gentlemen to my park for a final inspection before we began the process of opening it to the public. I suppose one more person wouldn’t be a burden.”

He winked at me. The message was unsaid, but crystal clear. As long as I cooperated, I would have my photos and story.

“As long as you wait a little with those pictures, I don’t see why you couldn’t accompany us.”

I grinned, hoping to look like a journalist who had won the lottery. “That is very generous of you, Mr. Hammond. I’m sure the public would very much enjoy those pictures. At an appropriate time, of course.”

“Capital!” Hammond exclaimed.

He raised his walking stick and pointed toward the helipad. “Then onward to new adventure.”

Shortly, we were bundled into the helicopter by the disgruntled security team, and with a small jolt, the helicopter left San José and headed for Isla Nublar. The travel time was a bit over an hour, so we had plenty of time to talk.

The six of us sat there for some time in silence as the helicopter rose into the air, just staring at each other awkwardly or out of the window. Grant was playing with his dino claw; the lawyer guy, whose name I didn’t know, was leaning against his hand and looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. Hammond was grinning with anticipation; Grant’s lady friend was also grinning in delight, visibly looking forward to whatever Hammond had promised them, though I could see in her eyes that every time she looked at me, a bit of worry also surfaced.

Dr. Malcolm was leaning against the door, in what I assume was meant to be a suave pose, and munching on his snack. I just sat there, with my camera around my neck, my hat on my lap, and watched all of them.

Finally, the only woman in the cabin turned to me with her hand extended. “Dr. Ellie Sattler, paleobotanist.”

I caught her hand and shook it. “Timothy Walker, journalist. Pleasure to meet you, doctor.”

Ellie… so that was her name…

She smiled at me, then motioned toward Grant. “This is Dr. Alan Grant, paleontologist and my partner.”

Grant grimaced at me with what I suppose was probably a smile and nodded. “Hey.”

I returned the smile, then Hammond took over. “And that dour man over there is Donald Gennaro, InGen’s general counsel, here to answer any legal questions,” he declared cheerfully, while the newly named Donald looked me over, grunted, and went back to staring out of his skull.

“And I am Dr. Ian Malcolm,” Dr. Malcolm declared for himself. “Some call me a mathematician, but I call myself a chaotician!”

Hammond just chuckled. “You’ll have to get used to Dr. Malcolm. He suffers from a deplorable excess of personality, especially for a mathematician.”

“Chaotician! Chaotician,” Dr. Malcolm interjected vehemently. “I told you many times, John.”

He turned to the rest of us. “John doesn’t subscribe to chaos, particularly what it says about his little science project.”

“Codswallop, Ian. You’ve never been able to sufficiently explain your concerns to me…” Hammond grumbled good-naturedly, though there was an undercurrent of annoyance in his voice.

Malcolm ignored him and turned toward us, or rather toward the fetching Ellie, his intention clear as day. “Dr. Sattler, Dr. Grant, you’ve heard of chaos theory?”

Both of them shook their heads. Malcolm, a bit disappointed, looked at me. “And you, journalist boy? Have you heard of chaos theory?”

I grinned at him. “I’m familiar with chaos. Butterfly theory, right?”

His eyes lit up, and he smirked at the rest of the group in the cabin. “My, my… a helicopter cabin full of intelligent people, and the only person who knows anything about mathematics is the one without a doctorate. How fascinating…”

“I have a doctorate in engineering,” I said with a sweet smile.

Which was technically the truth – objectively best kind of truth – as during the rebuilding process after the alien invasion, I was granted an honorary doctorate for my work in robotics. It was all theatrics, of course, made to show people that the government knew what it was doing, but it still granted me a piece of paper.

He gaped at me, while the rest of the cabin, with the exception of the dour Donald, tried to smother their laughter.

“Yes, well, you clearly know what is important. I’m sure we can have some fascinating discussions once the purpose of our trip is revealed,” he declared magnanimously.

Hammond grinned. “Indeed, I look forward to your look of awe once you set your eyes–” The helicopter jostled a little, and Hammond stopped talking for a moment, glancing out of the window before grinning. “There it is!”

We all looked out of the window as the helicopter began to approach the island.

“Isla Nublar, home of my personal slice of heaven!” Hammond declared with a grin.

The helicopter shook from the wind shear before we landed on the helipad, where, after disembarking, two of the famous – to me – jeeps pulled up. Grey and red, each one had a driver ready to take us to our final destination.

As soon as I stepped onto the concrete of the helipad, my vision lit up.

[You landed on Isla Nublar, home of Jurassic Park! 1 x Random Bronze Familiar Ticket]

I dismissed it and began taking pictures. First of the others as they disembarked the helicopter, then of the surroundings. The waterfall was particularly impressive, and the greenery also looked healthy.

As the rest of the team spent a few moments stretching after the long ride, I surreptitiously reached into my pocket and tore the ticket.

Maybe I will get another key…

[Naviggator (Common Familiar): No, no, you read that right. This reptile is a master of navigation and has an excellent sense of direction. If you give it a map and a compass, it can almost certainly lead you to where you need to go, despite being a regular alligator.]

I stared blankly at the eldritch message and shook my head. It was probably not wise to summon a geographically gifted alligator right here. I just left it in the slot in my soul, sleeping and waiting for its chance to be useful.

We piled into the jeeps, one holding Ian, Ellie, and Alan, while the other had Hammond, Donald, and me.

As soon as we took our seats, the jeeps started moving, our drivers silently heading toward the giant metal gates decorated with warning signs about the electricity coursing through them. Even though I had seen the movie before, I couldn’t help but feel excited.

After all, I was soon going to see real, live dinosaurs.

The first part of the drive, on a dirt road, was a bit bumpy but uneventful until Donald turned around and faced the silent Hammond, who was humming gently and watching the scenery.

“The full fifty miles of perimeter fence are in place?” he asked, completely ignoring me.

Hammond scoffed. “And the concrete moats, and the motion sensor tracking systems. Donald, dear boy, relax. Try and enjoy yourself.” He eyed me. “I guarantee that all of our guests, including you and your superstar, are going to thoroughly enjoy themselves.”

Donald didn’t like that. He cast me a look, but in the end, it seemed he didn’t really care. “Let’s get something straight, John. This is a serious investigation of the stability of the island. Your investors, whom I represent, are… curious about how you manage the installation. Forty-eight hours from now, if they’re not convinced, I’m not convinced. I’ll shut you down, John.” He was clearly choosing his words carefully due to my presence.

Hammond just grinned cheekily. “And in forty-eight hours, I’ll be accepting your apologies.” He looked giddy at the chance to show Donald – and through him, the investors and shareholders – what he had accomplished.

He glanced at me, but I pretended to be taking pictures of the scenery. Our eyes met, and I simply nodded slightly. This seemed to cheer him up a little, as Donald in the front was aggressively taking notes.

It took us half an hour of bumpy travel over semi-rough terrain before Hammond lit up with excitement. “All right, slow down. Slow. Stop, please!”

We were in a grassy, hilly area, and as both jeeps slowed down, we crested the last hill and were presented with the awesome sight of the park in all its glory. As the jeeps stopped, I couldn’t help but let out a gasp of awe.

Before us, slowly striding forward, was a massive Brachiosaurus, towering over everything as it snacked on the canopy.

I raised my camera and snapped a photo.

“So... cool...” I couldn’t help but mutter.

Next to me, Hammond let out a delighted laugh, clearly amused and happy by our reactions. He clambered down from the jeep, and I watched with bated breath as the Brachiosaurus rose up to reach more leaves before dropping back down, shaking the entire area, including our jeep.

Hammond approached the awestruck and slightly hysterical Alan and Ellie, while I listened as Donald had a transcendent experience.

“We’re gonna make so much money...” he whispered, staring at the giant dinosaur.

And hopefully you’re going to be alive to enjoy it…

Though honestly, I wasn’t exactly sure how to “solve” this issue. The movies and books about this universe were clear: no matter what, the dinosaurs would escape or cause problems, destruction, and chaos, either through outside influence, like here, or through biology.

The best thing would be to destroy all of them and stop this mad dash toward genetically engineering new species. Sadly, I knew the cat was already out of the bag. InGen wasn’t the only company working on this. If I wiped the island clean, it would only take another company a year or two to come up with something similar, or maybe even worse.

For now, my plan was simply to make sure the entire inspection went well and, naturally, to see as many dinosaurs as possible.

They were, after all, pretty cool.

Not wanting to wait anymore, I hopped down from the jeep, leaving the astounded lawyer behind, and walked over to the small group, with Ian following close behind.

I arrived just in time to hear Hammond. “Dr. Grant, my dear Dr. Sattler… Welcome… to Jurassic Park!”

He glanced at us, but his eyes remained on the pair, greedily drinking in their gaping expressions and awestruck emotions. Honestly, I could understand. Watching the valley, where hundreds of dinosaurs frolicked, wandered, or simply lazed beside the beautiful lake, I had to admit it was truly beautiful.

I raised my camera and snapped several more photos.

“How about a picture, Mr. Hammond? To commemorate this moment?” I asked out loud.

Hammond looked at me, and his eyes lit up. “Capital idea, my dear boy. Ca-pi-tal!”

He quickly gathered Alan, Ellie, and Ian, and we waited a minute until one of the Brachiosauruses was in the background before snapping a few pictures. Hammond was beaming with joy. Ian was half cocky and half shell-shocked. Ellie looked around with wide eyes and excitement radiating from every pore of her body, while Alan looked like he very much wanted to crawl into a hole and never leave.

With the pictures taken, we spent almost half an hour just staring at the amazing vista before us, with Alan or Ellie going on a rant every half minute about this or that impossibility, or how certain behaviors invalidated decades of research.

Hammond just stood there, leaning on his walking stick, and watched them like a proud grandfather watching his grandchildren enjoy their hobbies.

I stood next to Ian, occasionally snapping a picture.

He was still reflexively munching on his snacks, but I could feel the tension radiating from him.

“This is not going to work out…” he muttered.

I nodded. “Nature abhors a vacuum. And being caged.”

He glanced at me. “You’re not actually a journalist, are you?”

Never let it be said that while the man was a pest to women, he was still a world-class mathematician with the brain to accompany that.

“What gave it away?”

“You didn’t ask enough questions. Most journalists I’ve met would just not shut up,” he said. “Now the billion-dollar question... why are you here?”

“Would it be so hard to believe that I just wanted to see dinosaurs?” I asked, snapping another picture of several dinosaurs moving toward the lake in a large herd.

Ian hummed thoughtfully. “After seeing them myself, I can’t blame you... they’re magnificent.”

Our trip sadly had to continue. We left the peaceful herbivores behind and continued our journey through the rough terrain, with everyone noticeably quieter as they digested what they had seen. Hammond – and the drivers, to a lesser degree – radiated smug satisfaction.

Soon, we arrived at an area that was noticeably more civilized, with perfectly maintained roads and greenery that looked carefully planted instead of the wild jungle we had been driving through since landing. Next to a small lake, we got our first look at the work-in-progress Visitor Center. It was mostly complete, but workers were still buzzing around, doing their jobs.

A few workers approached us and opened the doors to the jeeps, and the next moment we were following an excited Hammond up the stairs as he prattled about the building.

“Visitor’s Center. The central nerve of the park! Already putting on the finishing touches, they are!” He waved at a few workers standing on scaffolding, who, from what I could see, waved back with genuine smiles on their faces.

The double doors were opened by two more workers, their smiles a bit more customer-service-like, but still genuinely warm.

“G’day, everyone!” he called out to the myriad of people rushing about the hall as the rest of us took in the enormous skeletons frozen in battle hanging from the ceiling.

“Now, the most advanced amusement park in the entire world! Incorporating all the latest technologies,” he continued as we walked up to the next floor beneath the shadow of the dinosaur skeletons. “And I’m not talking just about rides, you know. Everybody has rides. But we’ve made living biological attractions so astounding that they’ll capture the imagination of the entire planet.”

Listening to Hammond’s declaration, I looked around and tried to hold back a scoff when he talked about the latest technologies. I mean, they were undoubtedly some of the best of 1993, but to my eyes, they were clunky and outdated. Combine that with the knowledge accessible to me through my Tinker power, and the whole place looked hilariously inefficient.

Give me a weekend, and I could whip up a much better security system. Hell, I could build an entire park with animatronics using the same power.

No need to play God or commit crimes against nature.

We were soon ushered into a small room with several rows of plush chairs and a large screen on the wall. The chairs had metal bars in front of them, just like on an amusement park ride. Ellie, Alan, and Ian sat in the first row, all excited, while I took a seat one over from Hammond and Donald.

Watching the presentation was charming, and a bit odd, but otherwise it perfectly conveyed, in a somewhat child-friendly way, what was happening around the park. It didn’t really help that every second or third sentence, Ellie or Alan would turn around and start asking Hammond technical questions.

He just good-naturedly shushed them and motioned for them to keep watching, promising in a whisper that all their questions – and more – would be answered later.

Even Donald, the dour lawyer so set against Hammond and his park, looked fascinated.

Then the safety bars came down, and the seats began to move, turning to the left as the wall changed from a projector screen into a window overlooking a laboratory, where multiple people dressed in white protective clothing were hard at work.

A genial voiceover began explaining what we were seeing. However, nobody really paid attention to it.

The front row stared at the scientists cradling giant eggs in their hands as they walked through the laboratory. I was also staring, mostly astounded by the lack of lab safety. They were carrying such valuable and fragile items by hand.

“Can’t you stop these things?” Alan called out as he strained against the safety bars, clearly wanting to take a closer look at the eggs.

“I’m sorry, but this is a kind of ride,” Hammond admitted a bit bashfully. “It will release once it ends.”

Ian scoffed and looked over at the other two scientists. “On three. One, two… three.”

The three of them pushed against the safety bars and managed to force them open, allowing them to scamper off as Hammond watched with his mouth hanging open, while Donald still seemed a bit out of it.

I just snapped a picture.

The sound managed to snap Hammond out of it, and with a small motion, he unlocked the remaining safety bars, allowing us to follow the small group of excited scientists who were already trying to figure out how to open the security door leading into the laboratory.

I chuckled. “Your fault, Mr. Hammond. You put candy in front of children…”

He shot me a scornful look, though he did seem a bit embarrassed. “Let’s just follow them…” he muttered.

I smiled, and we walked after the group, who looked ready to break down the windowed door to get to the scientists, some of whom were watching them rather nervously.

Hammond stepped forward, entered the security code, and the door opened with a quiet hiss. Ellie, Alan, and Ian surged forward with excitement, while the rest of us followed at a gentler pace.

Time to witness the miracle of birth.

A/N: Well, here we go. I started researching the bigger universe to write, but I got bitten by the bug, so here it is, in memory of the late Sam Neil. Won't be long, as the "issue" is bit trivial, but allows me to work on the bigger universe.

The whole scene with the "shoemaker" was mostly inspired by The Greatest Beer Run Ever, where Chickie claims to be a tourist, and people misinterpret it as if he were CIA. Here, most of the lifting is done by Curse. MC looks like a uni student, as if he couldn't hurt a fly, while he has this aura that causes people to recoil in fear. So those people simply filled in the blanks about him.