for thirty-six hours. The embryos have to be back in San José by then.”
“That’s up to your guy in the boat,” the man said. “Better make sure he has a portable cooler on board.”
“I’ll do that,” Dodgson said.
“And let’s just review the bidding.…”
“The deal is the same,” Dodgson said. “Fifty thousand on delivery of each embryo. If they’re viable, an additional fifty thousand each.”
“That’s fine. Just make sure you have the boat waiting at the east dock of the island, Friday night. Not the north dock, where the big supply boats arrive. The east dock. It’s a small utility dock. You got that?”
“I got it,” Dodgson said. “When will you be back in San José?”
“Probably Sunday.” The man pushed away from the counter.
Dodgson fretted. “You’re sure you know how to work the—”
“I know,” the man said. “Believe me, I know.”
“Also,” Dodgson said, “we think the island maintains constant radio contact with InGen corporate headquarters in California, so—”
“Look, I’ve got it covered,” the man said. “Just relax, and get the money ready I want it all Sunday morning, in San José airport, in cash.”
“It’ll be waiting for you,” Dodgson said. “Don’t worry.”
MALCOLM
Shortly before midnight, he stepped on the plane at the Dallas airport, a tall, thin, balding man of thirty-five, dressed entirely in black: black shirt, black trousers, black socks, black sneakers.
“Ah, Dr. Malcolm,” Hammond said, smiling with forced graciousness.
Malcolm grinned. “Hello, John. Yes, I am afraid your old nemesis is here.”
Malcolm shook hands with everyone, saying quickly, “Ian Malcolm, how do you do? I do maths.” He struck Grant as being more amused by the outing than anything else.
Certainly Grant recognized his name. Ian Malcolm was one of the most famous of the new generation of mathematicians who wereopenly interested in “how the real world works.” These scholars broke with the cloistered tradition of mathematics in several important ways. For one thing, they used computers constantly, a practice traditional mathematicians frowned on. For another, they worked almost exclusively with nonlinear equations, in the emerging field called chaos theory. For a third, they appeared to care that their mathematics described something that actually existed in the real world. And finally, as if to emphasize their emergence from academia into the world, they dressed and spoke with what one senior mathematician called “a deplorable excess of personality.” In fact, they often behaved like rock stars.
Malcolm sat in one of the padded chairs. The stewardess asked him if he wanted a drink. He said, “Diet Coke, shaken not stirred.”
Humid Dallas air drifted through the open door. Ellie said, “Isn’t it a little warm for black?”
“You’re extremely pretty, Dr. Sattler,” he said. “I could look at your legs all day. But no, as a matter of fact, black is an excellent color for heat. If you remember your black-body radiation, black is actually best in heat. Efficient radiation. In any case, I wear only two colors, black and gray.”
Ellie was staring at him, her mouth open.
“These colors are appropriate for any occasion,” Malcolm continued, “and they go well together, should I mistakenly put on a pair of gray socks with my black trousers.”
“But don’t you find it boring to wear only two colors?”
“Not at all. I find it liberating. I believe my life has value, and I don’t want to waste it thinking about
clothing
,” Malcolm said. “I don’t want to think about
what I will wear
in the morning. Truly, can you imagine anything more boring than fashion? Professional sports, perhaps. Grown men swatting little balls, while the rest of the world pays money to applaud. But, on the whole, I find fashion even more tedious than sports.”
“Dr. Malcolm,” Hammond explained, “is a man of strong opinions.”
“And mad as a
“That’s up to your guy in the boat,” the man said. “Better make sure he has a portable cooler on board.”
“I’ll do that,” Dodgson said.
“And let’s just review the bidding.…”
“The deal is the same,” Dodgson said. “Fifty thousand on delivery of each embryo. If they’re viable, an additional fifty thousand each.”
“That’s fine. Just make sure you have the boat waiting at the east dock of the island, Friday night. Not the north dock, where the big supply boats arrive. The east dock. It’s a small utility dock. You got that?”
“I got it,” Dodgson said. “When will you be back in San José?”
“Probably Sunday.” The man pushed away from the counter.
Dodgson fretted. “You’re sure you know how to work the—”
“I know,” the man said. “Believe me, I know.”
“Also,” Dodgson said, “we think the island maintains constant radio contact with InGen corporate headquarters in California, so—”
“Look, I’ve got it covered,” the man said. “Just relax, and get the money ready I want it all Sunday morning, in San José airport, in cash.”
“It’ll be waiting for you,” Dodgson said. “Don’t worry.”
MALCOLM
Shortly before midnight, he stepped on the plane at the Dallas airport, a tall, thin, balding man of thirty-five, dressed entirely in black: black shirt, black trousers, black socks, black sneakers.
“Ah, Dr. Malcolm,” Hammond said, smiling with forced graciousness.
Malcolm grinned. “Hello, John. Yes, I am afraid your old nemesis is here.”
Malcolm shook hands with everyone, saying quickly, “Ian Malcolm, how do you do? I do maths.” He struck Grant as being more amused by the outing than anything else.
Certainly Grant recognized his name. Ian Malcolm was one of the most famous of the new generation of mathematicians who wereopenly interested in “how the real world works.” These scholars broke with the cloistered tradition of mathematics in several important ways. For one thing, they used computers constantly, a practice traditional mathematicians frowned on. For another, they worked almost exclusively with nonlinear equations, in the emerging field called chaos theory. For a third, they appeared to care that their mathematics described something that actually existed in the real world. And finally, as if to emphasize their emergence from academia into the world, they dressed and spoke with what one senior mathematician called “a deplorable excess of personality.” In fact, they often behaved like rock stars.
Malcolm sat in one of the padded chairs. The stewardess asked him if he wanted a drink. He said, “Diet Coke, shaken not stirred.”
Humid Dallas air drifted through the open door. Ellie said, “Isn’t it a little warm for black?”
“You’re extremely pretty, Dr. Sattler,” he said. “I could look at your legs all day. But no, as a matter of fact, black is an excellent color for heat. If you remember your black-body radiation, black is actually best in heat. Efficient radiation. In any case, I wear only two colors, black and gray.”
Ellie was staring at him, her mouth open.
“These colors are appropriate for any occasion,” Malcolm continued, “and they go well together, should I mistakenly put on a pair of gray socks with my black trousers.”
“But don’t you find it boring to wear only two colors?”
“Not at all. I find it liberating. I believe my life has value, and I don’t want to waste it thinking about
clothing
,” Malcolm said. “I don’t want to think about
what I will wear
in the morning. Truly, can you imagine anything more boring than fashion? Professional sports, perhaps. Grown men swatting little balls, while the rest of the world pays money to applaud. But, on the whole, I find fashion even more tedious than sports.”
“Dr. Malcolm,” Hammond explained, “is a man of strong opinions.”
“And mad as a
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