Conorontology's Safari Lodge

Isla Nublar, 120 Miles West of Costa Rica. 1992.

“You know, Muldoon, your paranoia is really beginning to annoy me.”

Jurassic Park’s chief administrator Ray Arnold was exasperated. This was a routine operation that he’d simulated a hundred times before. His eyes rose to meet those of the man he was walking alongside - Robert Muldoon, the Park’s chief warden. He was greeted with a stern, cold stare.

“My heart bleeds for you, Ray, but there is no such thing as paranoia when dealing with these things.”

The two men picked their way through the Visitor Centre rotunda, cluttered with construction equipment. It was a long way off being complete.

“Look, I’ve checked the systems five ways to Hades and back. The paddock constraints are green across the board! And you knew this was coming!”

“I don’t need to remind you that these aren’t ordinary animals we’re dealing with. There is no such thing as too much caution. And I didn’t know it was coming two months early.” The two reached the Control Room, one of the few fully functional areas of the Park so far.

“And just so Hammond could put on a little flea circus for his investors” Muldoon continued. “Yes, I knew it was coming, but I still don’t like jumping through hoops. Especially when they are on fire. Are you sure these trenches between the pens are adequate?”

Ray sighed and lit a cigarette.

After a beat, Muldoon continued. “Well. Let’s get on with it then.”

“There’s the signal from Muldoon. Let’s get this up and running. The Triceratops pen is open. They’re herding to their paddock.”

“The Stegosaurus pen is prepped. Also heading for their new home”

“There!” Ray gestured toward the blinking locator tags on the Control Room screen, as they moved across paddock boundaries. “You see!”

Muldoon was still uneasy. “How do you get them to move from the pens to the new paddocks so smoothly anyway?”

“Easy, that thin mesh along the ground puts out a mild electrical jolt. They move along to avoid the shocks.”

Muldoon grimaced.

A park ranger’s voice crackled over the radio. “The Triceratops are in their paddock. Green all the way.”

Muldoon started pacing.

Another voice came in.“Stegos are commencing. Keep the T. rex on standby.”

Arnold pushed back from his desk. “Do you ever relax Muldoon?”

“Not now. Not anymore.”

“Everything’s a-ok here. The Triceratops are commencing their interior decorating- starting with the shrubbery.”

“Roger. Green lights all the way. The last batch is on it’s way in.”

Suddenly the main screen in the control room flashed, highlighting key sections of the park.

Arnold spun in his chair back to his console frantically. “Multiple fence failure! They - they just went offline!”

“What?!” Muldoon suddenly burst into action, racing over the Arnold’s desk.

“We checked thoroughly! How the- uhh big trouble. One of the affected areas is the ah…”

Muldoon slammed his fist down on the desk. “Tell me what’s going on!”

“It’s the Tyrannosaur Paddock!”