by Tess Sharpe
He shoots her a look, and it’s like watching a silent conversation going on. Twin-speak.
“I told him to leave us alone,” Eric adds finally.
“Is that the guy with the light blond hair?” Art asks.
Ronnie nods. “He was being really gross at dinner last night.”
“I drove over on the shuttle with him,” Art says. “He would not stop talking about his dad. I guess he’s on the board of directors of one of Masrani’s companies or something.”
“What would guys like that do without nepotism?” Ronnie mutters, and I snort, almost coughing up my orange juice.
“Where do you think we’re going to start our tour?” Eric asks, taking a bite of toast. “Other than wanting to see the herbivores in person, I want to check out the command room. They’ve got to have thousands of cameras on this island.”
“I want to see the greenhouses!” Tanya says immediately. “I hope they’ve built them already. Plus all the fauna. Are the dinosaurs affecting the local seabird population? What about rodents and other small indigenous animals? Do the dinosaurs wipe them out? Or do they adapt?”
“Evolution in action,” Art says, nodding along with her. “I want to talk to the vets who have been treating the dinosaurs.”
“Art’s going to be a vet,” Justin adds.
“Oh, that’s cool,” I say. “Like pets, or like wild animals, or…?”
“My focus is on the larger predators in the wild and on conservation,” Art says.
“Oh, you and Claire should talk, then,” Tanya says. “She’s an animal rights activist.”
“More like a wannabe politician,” I say.
“Working the system from the inside?” Art suggests, and I nod. “Cool. I’ll have to bug you for a favor once I have my own sanctuary.”
I grin.
“This must be really amazing for a vet,” Eric says. “You can’t get fieldwork like this anywhere else.”
“It’s mind-blowing,” Art says. “A whole new frontier.”
“Can they even, like, build an MRI machine big enough for a dinosaur?” Tanya muses. “Does an ultrasound even work with their hides?” She frowns. “Is hides even the right word? Scales? Skin? Armor?”
“Hides is probably the best, broadest term,” Ronnie says thoughtfully. “And they might have invented a different ultrasound machine. One big or strong enough, maybe?”
“Can you imagine spreading that ultrasound jelly stuff on an Ankylosaurus?” Tanya asks.
“She might smash you with her tail,” Justin says. “One wrong needle-prick and you could be crushed to dino dust.”
“The vets here, they’re creating an entirely new subset of medicine,” Art says. “What they’re doing is the kind of dangerous our field’s barely even touched. But the stuff that’s being discovered about these creatures now will end up in scientific texts and history books.”
“And I’m gonna have all of it on camera,” Eric says, tapping his trusty Nikon next to him.
“I’m surprised they let you bring that,” Justin comments.
“I had to sign a bunch of forms,” Eric explains. “But apparently, they want as much authentic footage of the life of the interns as possible. It’s part of my job here. My footage is gonna end up in some cheesy training video, I bet. But it’ll look great.”
Everyone around the table laughs.
“What about you, Ronnie?” Art asks. “What do you want to see the most?”
“I want to talk to the trainers who’ve been working with the herbivores,” Ronnie says. “Jessica was telling me that a lot of them are ex-military. And I’m with Eric: I want to see the command room. The security surrounding this place is the best in the world. Masrani’s spared no cost. I heard there are metal alloys he’s using on some of the enclosures that even the government doesn’t have access to.”
“You heard right,” says a voice behind us. “Nice to see the rumor mill is always churning.” The group of us whirl, almost as one, to see a tall Indian man with wavy hair and a lavender tie knotted expertly around his neck. It’s the man himself. We’ve all seen photos. We’ve all dreamed of having the kind of power he has. Of creating the kind of change he has.
Ronnie flushes. “Mr. Masrani!” She leaps to her feet, her military background in every line of her body as she snaps to attention. “I didn’t mean any offense, sir.”
“None taken,” Mr. Masrani says with a wide smile. “You are Veronica Torres, is that right?”
Ronnie nods. “Ronnie, sir.”
“Ronnie, then. I am very pleased you chose us this summer,” Mr. Masrani says. He looks over at the rest of our group. “All of you. Art. Claire. Eric. Tanya. Justin. I know you had your pick of internships. We are glad to have you here.” His eyes focus on someone—Beverly—waving at him from the front of the conference room. “And now duty calls.” He shoots us a final smile before going to join her.
“I can’t believe he knew my name,” Ronnie says, sitting down in her seat.
“I can’t believe he knew all our names,” I say, letting out a nervous laugh on the last few words.
“Interns, attention up here!” Beverly, the intern director, is standing at the front of the room, waiting to get our attention. “Mr. Masrani has arrived. He’d like to give a little speech.”
Instantly, the murmur at the tables goes silent as he walks up to the front.
“Good morning, and welcome!” he says. “This is a special day for me. You twelve are the first young people to set foot in Jurassic World. My very first intern class.” He beams at us like a proud father. “You each have been chosen for your unique talent and intelligence. I don’t have to tell you you’re the best of the best—the fact that you are in this room means you are. Because I choose only the very best to work on my island.” He scans the room, his intense gaze fixing on each of us in turn.
“There is still much to be done at Jurassic World. Each of you will be integral to the success of this summer. We are just nine months from opening, and five herbivore species have been integrated into their island habitats, but more will be arriving this summer from Isla Sorna, our secondary location. Access to our carnivores—the T. rex, and Dilophosaurus—is restricted until the trainers working with you deem you ready to observe them. But there are Compsognathuses who do move throughout the park, eating droppings, dead animals, and interns who don’t keep to their curfews.”
His smile flashes and a wave of laughter ripples through the room.
“Kidding, of course,” he continues. “It’s not just Compsognathuses I want you to keep an eye out for. Construction is ongoing all over, so always be aware of your surroundings. And most importantly: I want you to learn. Ask questions. Voice your ideas, no matter how silly or inconsequential you may think they are. Soak up everything you can with those beautiful sponges that are your young, curious minds. This is a chance of a lifetime. Now, if we’re all done eating, let’s go! And make the most of it!”
We get up, grabbing our bags and tablets, and follow him like a trail of excited ducklings following their parent. I have to clench my fists to keep my hands from shaking, mostly with anticipation, but also a hint of fear.
Sometimes you have those moments that are almost prophetic, when you know, without a doubt, that what happens next will change everything.
I guess I just never realized how much changing everything would cost in the end.
“The monorail will travel through much of the park,” Mr. Masrani explains as we leave the hotel and walk up to the fleet of jeeps waiting for us. “But since it’s not fully operational yet, we’ll be taking the service roads.” He flashes another smile, taking in our excited faces. “You’ll be getting access that even some of my employees don’t have,” he says. “We’ll start with the outdoor tour because I don’t want the anticipation to kill you. You want to see the
dinosaurs, correct?”
“Hell, yeah!” bursts out an excited intern behind us. The rest of us laugh nervously, and then louder when Mr. Masrani doesn’t look offended; in fact, he seems delighted—as excited to show us his park as we are to be here.
“That’s what I thought,” he said. “We’ll break for lunch, and then I’ll be taking you to see our lab. But I think we’ll start in the Gyrosphere Valley.”
“Wait—the Gyrospheres are real?” Justin asks. “They aren’t just a rumor?”
“Ah, you probably saw the papers. Some sneaky patent clerk snapped a photo of the Gyrosphere technology when it was filed,” Mr. Masrani says.
Justin laughs. “Guilty,” he says. “I’ve got a news alert set up for all things relating to the park.”
Mr. Masrani leans forward conspiratorially. “So do I,” he says. “I’ve got to keep ahead of the leakers! They’re always trying to sneak their way onto my island with their drones and their photographers and their many, many bribes. Some buzz is good for a business, but too much will spoil some surprises I’m not willing to divulge.”
“You’ve got to guard those trade secrets closely,” Justin says.
“Indeed. But there’s no point in keeping the secret of the Gyro-spheres from all of you, since one of the interns’ tasks is to test-drive them through certain terrains to calibrate their sensors.”
“We’re talking about the rolling hamster-ball things, right?” Tanya whispers under her breath to me after Justin and Mr. Masrani are out of earshot.
I nod.
“Are we sure they’re safe?” Ronnie asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“I guess we’ll see,” I say as the three of us girls load into the jeep. I see Justin and Eric jump into the one in front of us—with Mr. Masrani. Justin’s going to love getting face time with him, and instead of feeling jealous, I’m glad for him.
I never expected to like everyone so much. In most of my classes in school, everyone competes against each other. And everyone wanted to be Professor Broadhurst’s assistant, so when I was chosen…well, I’ve never been really popular, and that certainly didn’t help. I had Regina and my friends outside of my major, but in class, it could be lonely. And I worried it would be like that here, but it’s totally different.
I think this is what belonging feels like. It’s kind of scary. I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere…or with anybody.
“I’m Bertie,” says the woman at the wheel, smiling at us in the rearview. She has an accent—I think it’s South African—and dark curly hair cropped close to her head. “Everyone buckled up?”
We nod.
Instead of pulling onto the main road—which must lead to the main street, with its stores and restaurants, all still under construction—the jeeps turn onto a narrower road leading away from the hotel, cutting through the hollows and shadows of the jungle. When I look up out the window, I can barely see the blue sky above, the trees are so thick. The air is humid—my tank top is already sticking to my back, and I’m glad I pinned my braids up around my head before I left.
“Can we roll the windows down?” I ask, and Bertie nods.
I do so, letting the fresh air blow in—along with the scent of the jungle. It’s sharp and wet, wild and green, fetid and fresh…like life and death all at once. A vibrant contradiction.
“Is that a waterfall?” Tanya asks as we drive past the thundering sound of water, the falls shielded by the thickets of trees. There seems to be a huge variety of plant species. I can identify a few ferns and the palm trees, but a lot of the lush green tangle surrounding us is a mystery to me.
“Yup,” says Bertie. “There are five on the island. Three will be accessible to guests once we open.”
“Mermaid goals,” Tanya says with a grin, making Ronnie and me laugh. “Ooh, look!” She points out the window at a tree that looks like it was created by someone who’s never seen a tree before. “Monkey puzzle trees! Araucaria araucana. They were a major food source in the Mesozoic period.”
“Good eye,” Bertie says approvingly. “Are you the botany student?”
“That’s me.” Tanya nods. “How did you know?”
“We’re briefed on all the interns we’ll be working with,” Bertie explains. “I work with the young herbivores, preparing them for integration into the habitats. You’ll be working with my team this week. Today you’ll just be observing, but by the end of your stay, you’ll be able to work with the very young herbivores—under our supervision, of course.”
“So you’re a trainer?” Ronnie asks eagerly.
“Head trainer,” Bertie says.
Ronnie’s eyes widen. “You’re in charge?”
“That’s right,” Bertie replies with a grin. “I run a team of twelve, and we handle the herbivores in the park. There’s another team of caretakers that deal with the carnivores we have onsite, but a majority of them are still working on Isla Sorna.”
“What’s the difference between a trainer and a caretaker?” I ask.
“Well, with the carnivores, training is more of a wild theory than an actual practice yet,” Bertie explains. “Working with the herbivores like my team does is mostly about acclimation and encouraging natural behavior that’s already ingrained in the animals. They want to graze, roam and run, sun themselves at the watering hole, and spend time with their herds. You can be up close to the herbivores in ways you can’t with the carnivores, and if you can’t get close…that makes working with an animal a lot trickier. Working with the carnivores is a lot of observation right now. It’s going to take a special person—and a really brave one—to crack the carnivore code when it comes to real connection and training. I hope I’m around to see it.” We fall quiet.
“Do you ever work with the T. rex?” Ronnie asks the question we’re all wondering.
“I’m in charge of her Thursday feedings,” Bertie says. “Once the park opens, we’ll have more carnivore caretakers on Nublar, so my T. rex time will probably get cut down.”
“Is she terrifying?” Tanya asks.
“She’s beautiful,” Bertie says. “They all are.”
“She was here at the start,” I say. “That’s the rumor, at least.”
“That’s right,” Bertie says. “She’s one of the older dinosaurs; she lived in the original park.”
“Is it mostly older dinosaurs here? Do the younger ones stay on Sorna until they’re ready to come here?” I ask.
“We actually have quite a few young dinosaurs,” Bertie says, and it doesn’t escape my notice that she sidesteps my question about Isla Sorna, which somehow seems even more mysterious than Isla Nublar. I wonder if it’ll ever be open to the public—probably not. I know it was the place where Dr. Hammond raised his first dinosaurs, but the real question is: What goes on there now that Mr. Masrani owns it? Is it just the place to raise the dinosaurs? Or is it more?
“We like to integrate the young dinosaurs one at a time, especially a protective herd genus like the Triceratops. But we’ve had great success with each addition to the herd. Now if we can just get our teenage Brachiosaurus to completely stop playing with the Gyrospheres…” She shakes her head ruefully.
“She’s playing with the Gyrospheres?” I ask, feeling even more nervous. And they want us to ride in them? No way!
“Just the empty ones. And we’re working on some very successful distraction techniques,” Bertie assures us. “I think we’ve almost broken her of the habit. She’s very…spirited, our Pearl.”
“Is that her name?” Ronnie asks.
“Our Brachiosauruses are Agnes, Olive, Dot, and Pearl,” Bertie said. “Dot and Pearl are the younger of the four.”
I can’t stop the giggle that explodes from my throat. “They sound like a knitting circle of elderly ladies,” I say.
“That was the theme we were going for,” Bertie say
s with a smile.
“Do you get to name them?” Tanya asks.
“We take suggestions on a theme for each new species, then vote as a team,” Bertie answers.
She turns onto a gravel road, and about a mile farther down, the lush press of trees and foliage that is the jungle suddenly opens into wide, rolling grasslands dotted with trees with long, reaching branches that create both shade and sustenance. The other three jeeps are already parked near a perimeter fence, and Bertie pulls up next to them.
“Thanks for answering all our questions, Bertie,” Ronnie says as we get out.
“Any time, girls,” she says. “See you later. I’ve got to go join my team.” She jerks her thumb toward the enormous truck that’s parked about half a mile down the road. The fence stretches as far as I can see, caging the beautiful valley in—and presumably, the dinosaurs, too.
But I don’t see them anywhere. My palms are sweaty with anticipation as I get out and stare into the distance, searching.
“Where are they?” Tanya asks, shading her eyes with her hand and peering out across the meadow.
We walk toward the fence, joining Justin, Art, and Eric, who are standing together near the top of the hill. Eric’s looking at everything through his lens, and his sister peeks over his shoulder. “You see anything on zoom?” she asks.
“Not yet,” Eric says. “I got some great footage on the drive in, though. I’ll show it to you later.”
“Interns! Don’t wander off!” Beverly calls, waving at us.
We go to join her and the rest of our group. Mr. Masrani has walked down to where the trainers are gathered. And then we hear it: a rumble—like a lowing noise—breaks through the air.
It’s coming from the truck.
Our heads whip toward the sound, and the hairs on the back of my arms rise as I realize—there’s a real, live dinosaur in there.
Beverly and Jessica both smile indulgently at our awestruck expressions. “That’s right,” Beverly says. “You’ll be observing the introduction of one of the Triceratops to the herd today. She’ll be the youngest member, bringing us to a total of sixteen Triceratops in the park.”
