It took nearly half an hour, but Carlo finally located the mugwort.
Upon returning to the habitat, he found Mom using the lake water to clean her wound. He conveyed the medicinal effects of the herb to her, then, mimicking Ceratosaurus One, chewed the leaves into a pulp and applied them to her injury.
She simply turned her head, caught the scent of the chewed herbs, and committed it to memory. Compared to Carlo, who had spent thirty frantic minutes searching based on fuzzy mental images, she remained far more composed.
Watching her, Carlo suddenly remembered he possessed a formidable sense of smell. Having eyes had apparently made him forget how to use his nose—it was a classic case of a frantic patient seeking any doctor in a storm.
…
Darius finally got his wish and watched the VIP documentary.
There was less pointless narration and more breathtaking cinematography. He even saw a close-up of Carlo tearing open the Diplodocus's thoracic cavity. To him, the sight of a Giganotosaurus hunting a massive long-neck was something that had only ever existed in books.
However, he now understood why the content was rated 18+. That close-up was pure directorial malice, the kind that could make a little kid throw up from fright. His dad had even jumped, quickly covering Darius's eyes with a worried hand.
Seriously, Dad, I'm not a toddler.
As for the interactions between Carlo and the Ceratosauruses? That wasn't in the VIP documentary, that was "Exclusive Paid Content." After all, that segment was the real masterpiece.
Who could have imagined two species from different eras sharing prey, let alone learning from one another? The final scene of Carlo and the two Ceratosauruses nuzzling was enough to drive paleontologists to madness. It wouldn't be an exaggeration for them to scream, "Paleontology is a lie!"
The comment section was a rare gathering of heavyweights. Some were debating; others were busy coming up with forced scientific explanations. Since Jurassic World officially forbid leaking the genetic makeup of their dinosaurs to the public, these scientists, even if they suspected the truth, couldn't openly blame Dr. Wu and his gene-splicing wizardry.
Consequently, the reviews for the premiere of Primeval Ecology were intensely polarized. To win back the viewers of the free segment, the officials launched a naming contest for the Ankylosaurs.
The leader, Number Four, was named Scimitar, after the curved spikes on his back. Number Three was dubbed Rebel, as he seemed to have a persistent bone to pick with the leader's orders. Numbers One and Two, having shown no particularly striking traits yet, remained nameless for the time being.
…
"Are you serious?!!"
In her office, Claire Dearing was doing her absolute best to maintain her elegant tone and composure. But she had finally hit her breaking point. If an ordinary employee had seen her now, they might have assumed a high-threat dinosaur had breached containment.
Unfortunately, humans were far more unpredictable than dinosaurs.
Claire had just learned that the editor for Primeval Ecology had pulled a massive stunt. The editor felt that the shot of Carlo tearing open the Diplodocus's chest was magnificent, a display of raw, "feral beauty." He had poured his life's work into the Giganotosaurus hunt, utilizing every trick in his arsenal.
Then... the censors rejected it. The reason: too bloody.
The editor had argued his case fiercely. He claimed he had made the entire video just for that one shot, a feast of dumplings prepared solely for a side of vinegar. He couldn't just delete it!
The censors shot back: Then change the filling and eat your dumplings with soy sauce instead.
Infuriated, the editor flipped the table. You won't eat them? Fine! He moved the entire Giganotosaurus hunt to the VIP section, padded the free version with extra Ankylosaurus and Dilophosaurus footage, and resubmitted.
It actually passed.
But in the end, the censorship department reported him anyway. Given the current public outcry, if they didn't report him, their own bonuses would be on the line. What kind of garbage are you letting through? they demanded.
The reported editor wasn't about to back down and called Claire directly to argue his case. Claire was very receptive.
"You're fired," she said with a smile that looked like a man-eating demon.
"Noooo—!" the editor wailed. "You can't do this! You can't do this to me!! According to labor laws—"
Click.
Claire hung up the desk phone and leaned her head on her hands, feeling a headache coming on. She used to think that wearing board shorts to a date was the peak of human absurdity, but clearly, there were higher masters at play.
Whose officer is this?!
Glancing at the paperwork and guest feedback on her desk, she sighed. While Mr. Masrani occasionally made odd decisions, his instincts for profit were as sharp as a dung beetle's for... well, dung.
38% of guests wanted to visit the Ecological Zone; 20% felt more dinosaurs should be added; 17% opposed the zone, calling it too cruel; and another 20% thought it was perfect as is. The remaining 5%? They hadn't even heard of it.
She saw the untapped potential. If they could set up a safari-style tour like in Africa, the revenue would easily rival the Gyrosphere Valley. But it was impossible. Though she had only known Owen for a short time, their small talk had taught her enough about animal behavior.
For creatures with territorial instincts this strong, a tour route was basically a mobile "canned food" buffet.
However... Claire flipped to another file on her desk.
[Camp Cretaceous]
It was a youth summer camp project. Mr. Masrani wanted more children to experience the dinosaurs. If everything went according to plan, the site would be very close to the Primeval Ecological Zone.
They could run a trial integration. Somewhere around... here. The southwest area near Entrance 3.
It would give the kids a direct view of the Great Lake, and they could witness how the Jurassic World staff handled the "dino-herding" operations.
…
"How do I look?"
"A bit ridiculous."
Owen was rarely seen without his signature shirt and vest combo. He was currently wearing formal attire, holding his arms out for Barry to inspect.
"I'm serious, man. I'm going to see the big boss."
"I'm serious too. You don't suit 'serious' clothes at all."
Barry teased him without mercy. Those who hadn't seen Star-Lord might think Owen looked masculine and dependable. Those who had... well, let's leave Owen some dignity.
He took a long, nervous breath. In a way, he had gotten this job through a back door. Before joining, he had been a dolphin trainer in the military; a recommendation from his commanding officer had smoothed his path into the park.
"Let's review, Barry. Help me review the pitch."
"Alright, alright. Just remember: make the boss realize the value of these Raptors. And your own value. A dinosaur show is unprecedented. You'll succeed, no one knows them better than you do, right?"
"You're right. You're right."
Owen repeated the words twice to pump himself up, clutching a tablet as he headed toward the owner's office.
For a bigger Raptor paddock! Charge!
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