Before Jurassic World

Chapter 19

The next morning I was in the valley taking a look at one of the park's most "innovative" attractions.  At least that's how the walking brochure from Masrani Global was explaining it to me.

"The guests will be able to maneuver the gyrosphere's all over the valley which provides a very interactive experience with the assets," the guy rambled, gesturing animatedly to what appeared to be a life sized hamster ball.

I swear since I took this job I whispered "what the fuck?" to myself at least 20 times a day.

"What's your name?" I asked, looking at the man in question.  I pulled my sunglasses down to the tip of my nose as I took in his ensemble.  He was wearing a suit, complete with a vest and shiny black shoes, in the middle of a valley, in Central America.  I was baking in the 90 degree heat and I had the good sense to not dress like I was attending a funeral.  Where did Simon find these people?

"Me, I'm Dan. Dan Weston."

"First thing Danny, don't call them assets.  Their animals, dinosaurs if you want to get technical. Second, what safety protocols do you have out here for the guests and animals?" I questioned.

"Well, it's Dan not Danny," he corrected.  I simply stared at him in return.  "But that's not important.  Well, the gyrosphere's are rated to stop a .50 caliber bullet so the guests will be safe."

Because dinosaurs regularly fire off .50 caliber bullets.

"And the dinosaurs?"

"I'm not sure I get your point ma'am."  The lines in between his eyes made his confusion pretty easy to decipher.  I guess I'd just have to break this down Barney Style.

"Well, are you just planning on letting the guests roam wherever the wind takes them?  Do you have any fences in place to keep the animals in certain zones?"  I took my sunglasses off wiping the sweat from my forehead.  These were only two of the billion questions I had, and I'd only been out here 20 minutes.  These people had too much money and not enough common sense.

"Well, no, with the gyrosphere's being able to withstand what they can there isn't really a threat out here," Dan supplied nervously.

So if I was hearing him right there was no danger whatsoever in the valley filled with prehistoric dinosaurs.  Yeah, OK.

I shook my head at him in agreement, "Get in the hamster ball Danny."

"I'm sorry?" he muttered, slowly backing up.

"I said, get in the hamster ball."  What was I speaking Greek?

Danny reluctantly climbed into the hamster ball looking like the tool I knew he would.  There was simply no way a person could maintain a shred of dignity sitting in one of these things.  Who comes up with these attraction?

"You said this is rated to stop a .50 caliber bullet, right?" I asked, using air quotes.

"Yes, that's right."

"And because the person who shipped it to you said it was safe you think that's the only safety measure we need in place out here, is that also right?"

"Well...yes," Dan answered, his voice barely above a whisper.

What I was about to do was probably a no-no in the corporate policy handbook, but I saw no other way to help Danny see my point of view.  Besides, "fuck it" was a pretty well tested philosophy of mine, it's gotten me through a shit ton of situations.  No reason to think it wouldn't work here as well.

I pulled out my Glock, firing three rounds directly into the hamster ball.  Danny screamed at the top of his lungs, throwing himself out the small opening, tumbling onto the ground with a shriek.