Rose pursed her lips, deciding what to do.
“Hey,” one of the children said, “isn’t that —”
Rose made her decision. Before the sentence went any further and it would be rude not to answer, she pushed her pram forward to join the frantic crowd. She had meant to enter the museum, and she would do so.
Virgil continued to make occasional comments about the crowd, mostly asking Rose the meaning of various glimpses of memories that he had no business plucking from strangers’ heads. She shoved the pram through the entrance, at last reaching the doors, and focused very sternly on a memory of telling him just last week not to do that.
Virgil’s mother was mean! Virgil was angry! Virgil was going to howl!
No! Rose thought. No howling! If you want your bucket back, you’re not going to howl!
Virgil settled down. He was behaving. Could he have his bucket?
“When we get home,” Rose muttered under her breath.
Virgil was angry! His mother had said he could have his bucket! He was going to howl!
An earsplitting wail rose up from the pram, and heads turned to stare at them from all over the crowd. Rose gritted her teeth and clenched the handle of the pram in frustration.
Since Virgil’s unearthly screech more closely resembled a bird of prey than a human child, there would shortly be no concealing what he was to all around them. Rose decided to use the situation to her advantage.
She wrenched off the blanket to put her son on full display. Gasps rang around them, and Rose didn’t stop. She scooped up Virgil in one arm and turned to a man near her who appeared to have muscular forearms.
“I need to get to the fourth floor immediately,” she said in a no-nonsense tone, waiting until Virgil had paused to breathe. Thankfully, that seemed to act as a distraction for the dragon, who did not recommence screaming. “Would you please carry the pram?”
“Certainly,” the man said readily, his eyes focused on Virgil.
The crowd parted to make way for them as they headed up the stairs, all eyes fastened on Virgil as the initial shocked silence moved into a flurry of whispers. Despite the irritation of being a spectacle, Rose felt some gratification that Virgil’s tantrum had for once been useful.
They reached the top of the stairs, and the man heaved the pram down to the floor for her.
Rose nodded. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” The man stared at the small dragon in her arms. “Is he —”
“Yes,” Rose said, feeling that it was better to get questions over with. “He’s the first dragon who hatched from this museum. His name is Virgil. You can find the second one in Central Park Zoo. Her name is Violet.”
Virgil liked Violet! He wanted to play with her!
“Can I touch him?” the man asked wide-eyed, reaching out his hand.
Rose sighed internally, but as the man had helped her, it seemed churlish to refuse.
“Yes,” she said, “but please make it brief.”
A surge of people dove forward, their hands outstretched. Virgil wriggled and started to protest his discomfort as dozens of people shoved their hands all over him.
“Enough!” Rose barked, swatting the uninvited hands away, her patience now at an end. “There may be some parents who don’t mind their children being manhandled, but I am not one of them! Please stand back and do not make my son uncomfortable.”
The crowd drew back, looking abashed, as the one man gently stroked Virgil’s side with a look of awe on his face.
Rose smiled slightly, remembering the first time she had had that opportunity. It was remarkable to realize that one was touching an infant from a species that had gone extinct millions of years ago. It felt miraculous; in fact, it was still unexplained and unfathomable how they had survived so long. She knew that it had happened, yet it still felt impossible.
Taking her leave as soon as it was polite to do so, Rose deposited Virgil in his pram and draped the blanket over the top again, even though she was not sure if that would accomplish any of the concealment it had before. It seemed prudent to at least attempt to be discreet. Then she headed with great dignity into the Hall of Saurischian Dragons.
The flood of people here was greater that it had been elsewhere, and her attempt at discretion proved extremely useless, as the people from the stairs followed her in, many of them shouting in extreme excitement and pointing at her and her pram.
Attempting to ignore the hubbub that was turning into pandemonium around her, Rose reached the dragon eggs exhibit and then stopped, staring blankly.
There were now only eight eggs on display. Presumably the two who had awakened were the missing ones.
Where did they go? she thought numbly.
Chapter 6: Feelings
“Yes, of course we moved them,” Director Campbell said impatiently in response to Rose’s query. “Did you think we’d allow the entire crowd to have access to them?”
Rose had run straight to a museum worker and asked to see the director, and since she had had Virgil with her, she’d been taken to the director’s office right away.
Rose nodded slowly. It was obvious; she should have realized that the people here would not be foolish enough to expect that crowds would not flood the museum, and of course the telepathic babies might be very disturbed by the presence of thousands of strange minds pestering them.
“The last thing we need is one of those things bonding to somebody uncooperative,” Director Campbell said sourly.
Rose’s eyes widened. That’s what he meant?
The thought of Henry flashed across her mind. He had not been receptive to the museum’s original desires to keep Virgil from them, and had in fact been very rude at the director’s insistence that the dragon egg belonged to the museum, not to his chosen parents. This had been a fiasco that had only been settled when Virgil had thrown a fit, which the director had not been prepared to handle. It seemed Director Campbell was determined that there would be no more Henrys.
Rose swallowed. She could see things from his perspective, yet — yet fathers like Henry were exactly what it would take to make the infant dragons grow up healthy, well-adjusted, and recognized as people with the same rights as the human majority. While there was no doubt that Harrison Jones loved Violet, he had accepted their circumstances far too amiably.
Which was, perhaps, a type of wisdom. But it would not lead to the future that Rose wished to see for Deinonychus antirrhopus. Their species deserved better.
Her son deserved better.
He was lucky he’d gotten it.
Director Campbell could not be allowed to deprive all the future dragons in his museum of parents like Henry.
But Rose knew that openly opposing him could only end in catastrophe. So she swallowed her feelings, and said, “Would I be allowed to visit the awakened dragon eggs? I was thinking that Virgil would like to meet them.”
Director Campbell drummed his fingers on his desk, thinking.
Oh, please, Rose thought. If nothing else, at least let Virgil meet the others of his species.
“All right,” the director said at last. “Teedle is taking care of them. Has them in his office now. As long as you are strictly supervised, you may take that dragon to meet them.”
Rose’s heart lifted in relief.
“As long as you don’t cause any trouble,” the director added, frowning. “And I don’t want your husband going near them.”
Rose’s fingers clenched, but she nodded.
Mr. Teedle, the curator of the dragon collection, was a kind man who was close to Rose’s father’s age. Rose did not have many people she would consider friends, but Mr. Teedle qualified, despite their difference in age. They had known each other since her early years in high school, when she had commenced spending all her spare time in the museum’s Research Library.
Mr. Teedle had always been supportive of Rose’s plans to become a paleontologist, and he had also been present at Virgil’s hatching. So it was no surpris
e that, when she knocked on the door to his office and he opened it, he greeted her with great warmth.
“Miss Palmer!” he cried, and then quickly corrected himself. “Mrs. Wainscott. I’m pleased to see you! Have you brought Virgil here?”
“Yes, I have,” Rose said, and glanced peevishly at the pram. “And he seems to have decided it was naptime as I was walking here.”
“Children are like that,” Mr. Teedle chuckled. “They only want to sleep when it’s inconvenient.”
“I’ve gained permission to meet the new dragon eggs,” Rose said. “Would now be an acceptable time to do so?”
“Of course,” Mr. Teedle said, opening the door wide and stepping back.
Heart thumping in excitement, Rose stepped into the room, pushing the pram before her. It was hard to fit the rather large pram into the small room, but Mr. Teedle took charge of correcting that deficiency by moving a chair out of the way. Her gaze fell on the two eggs on the man’s desk, still and silent, the same brown-spotted orange shells as the one Virgil had been in.
“Are they . . . awake?” Rose said. She had been about to say alive, but that would be a silly question. All the eggs were alive. That was why they weren’t fossilized.
“This one is soundly sleeping,” Mr. Teedle said, tapping the desk beside the one to the right. “I think perhaps she was awakened before she was ready. This one is napping, but he doesn’t usually sleep for long, so you will probably be able to converse with him soon.” He tapped a spot on the desk beside the left egg. “I’m afraid he woke the other egg by vigorous telepathic yelling. It was similar to what Virgil did when he was separated from you and Mr. Wainscott, but even more painful and unbearable. I pity his parents, because he seems likely to be a real handful.”
Parents, Rose thought, reassured that Mr. Teedle had used the word. It seemed that, no matter what the museum director was planning, the dragon curator took it as a given that the eggs would be raised by proper adults who adopted them.
“Why was he yelling?” she asked politely.
Mr. Teedle frowned. “The same reason as Virgil did, I’m sorry to say. And this time, there is no easy solution.”
“What do you mean?” Rose began —
He was a dragon inside an egg. His parents went out hunting. They always had memories of hunting to share when they came back, and he couldn’t wait to hunt with them. But they had been a long time. A long time. A long time. Where were his parents?!
Minds came and said his parents were gone. Wrong! Wrong! WRONG!
They were coming back! They were coming back! They’d said they’d be back, and they were coming back! He was going to scream until they came back for him!
Rose staggered backwards as a silent tidal wave of fury blasted her mind. It was wordless, potent, and vigorous.
“Can you —” Rose gulped, barely able to form the words. “Can you stop, please?”
This was a new mind. Was this mind going to get his parents for him? If this new mind got his parents for him, he would stop screaming.
“I’d love to help,” Rose said, “but —”
The blast of fury poured through her mind again. Rose took an involuntary step backwards, then fumbled for the doorknob, desperate to get out of range.
Stop it! Virgil wanted it to stop! Virgil was really mad! Virgil was woken up from his nap!
Rose’s gaze flew to the pram, where her son was wriggling around under the blanket. She whipped the blanket back, and Virgil sat there, emanating indignation.
A little uncertainty came from the egg. He was angry. If he screamed enough, his parents would finally come back. His parents were coming —
Virgil’s parents hadn’t come back! Virgil had waited for his parents for a long, long time, too! Virgil had found new parents with minds just like his old ones!
No! He was really angry! He didn’t want new parents! He was going to scr—
Virgil would share Violet’s memories with the angry, mean, annoying person!
Extinction shattered across Rose’s mind. Memories from adult dragons who were suffering, starving, bleeding, dying. Violet was found at the end of the world. Violet was one of the last. Everyone was gone. Even all the eggs were mostly asleep. What had happened? Where was the world? There were no parents left. They were all gone.
EVERYTHING WAS ALL GONE, AND ONLY DESPAIR WAS LEFT.
Rose gasped, shaken. That memory of Violet’s was new. It was worse than all the other ones that Violet had shared. It also had a strange, surreal quality that the rest of her memories didn’t. Where had it come from? Had it been one of her dreams?
There was dead silence for a minute, and Rose gripped the handle of the pram. She hoped that her son had not traumatized the other infant.
When the answering thought came back, it seemed weak and scared.
He was . . . angry. He was . . .
Chapter 7: First
Virgil would share his memories of meeting his new parents now. Then the new mind would see.
New memories filled Rose’s head, and these were even stranger than the surreal quality of Violet’s dream because they were familiar, and yet alien. She had been there to experience the whole thing; she had even seen it from Virgil’s perspective on that same day. Yet now, they had been painted over with the certainty of hindsight and the optimism of romanticism, implying that this had somehow been fate or destiny.
The new dragon seemed to gobble it up with the hunger of a starving creature. His vicious anger abated, and he started to release impressions that were increasingly hopeful.
This might not be a realistic expectation Virgil is passing on, Rose thought, troubled. The chances of this new dragon finding two people exactly like his original parents are not high. And even if he does, what are the chances that they won’t be married to two other people? Just because Virgil was the first doesn’t mean his experience will be representative.
The angry dragon egg now seemed soothed. Where could he find his new parents? The new ones who would be just like his old ones?
Mr. Teedle cleared his throat. “About that —”
Rage blasted from the dragon egg before the curator could finish his sentence.
No! He wanted his new parents now!
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Teedle said. “I’m afraid your wants are not the only relevant factor here. They will, of course, be weighed, but there are other things that must be —”
He wanted his parents, he wanted his parents! He wanted his parents, he wanted his parents! He was going to scream! He was going to scream!
Pent-up fury was building to an explosive climax again.
“Perhaps it would be better for you to leave,” Mr. Teedle said.
“Can’t I meet the other dragon egg first?” Rose asked regretfully.
Mr. Teedle opened his mouth to reply . . .
She was unhappy. She was sleepy. He was noisy. He was disturbing her. She wanted to sleep. She would go back to sleep. He was being noisy.
The feather touch of those impressions faded as quickly as they had come.
Mr. Teedle smiled wryly. “There you have it. That’s all we’ve gotten from her, either.”
Rose’s mind raced. Is this another female that my son could eventually court? Do they have compatible personalities? It was hard to judge from just a few fleeting impressions, but she hoped they might be. The more choices Virgil had, the better his chances of gaining a mate that would please him.
“I’m relieved that there are as many females as males thus far,” Rose commented. “If there had been double the number of males, it would have been a problem.”
Mr. Teedle nodded. “There still might be. We have no way of knowing what genders the sleeping eggs are, after all. But we can hope for either more females or exact gender equality.”
If Rose’s child had been a daughter rather than a son, she would have bristled at the hope of extra females. All signs from Virgil and Violet’s memories indicated that their species paired monogamously for li
fe, thus too many extra females would put each one at a disadvantage for eventually breeding.
But even under those circumstances, she would have understood that slightly more females would be more of an advantage to an underpopulated species than slightly more males. From a purely cold, biological standpoint, one male could produce offspring with two females simultaneously, while one female could not do the same with two males. While exact gender equality would be preferable for a monogamous species, slightly more females would still be viable.
Of course, Deinonychus dragons were people, not livestock. They would make their own choices, and those choices would not always be best for the species. Still, Rose hoped that the initial conditions would at least be optimal for continuance. It was a miracle that Deinonychus antirrhopus was still alive today, and she did not want them to die out again from having too few individuals to support a stable population.
Besides, from a selfish perspective, her child was a son. For him to have the best chance of eventually producing offspring, extra females would be optimal.
Rose smiled to herself at the thought of how Henry would react if she said any of this to him. He would, no doubt, be indignant that she was even considering their son’s future marriage prospects at this young age. But, after all, her mother’s grandparents had been intended for one another from the cradle, and that only because of social snobbery, not biological practicality. She failed to see how this was any different.
As long as I am treating him exactly as I would a human infant, Rose thought, I am treating him properly.
All this flashed across her mind exactly as another burst of fury rose up from the left egg.
He was angry! He was angry! He wanted his parents, his parents, his parents! He was going to screeeeeeeeeam!
Rose flinched and staggered backward.
Virgil was mad, too! Virgil was very mad! The mean mind wasn’t going to help the other baby find his parents! He was going to screeeeeeeeeam!
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