The world has always been full of terrible, frightening things. Since the beginning of time, Earth has existed as a kill or be killed environment—a chaotic food chain with little to no reason in its operation. For centuries, man has sat at the top of that food chain. His ego has been fed on the sight of the other creatures below him, and it has grown and mutated into something else entirely. Man no longer has an ego. He has a god complex. He destroys and changes the world around him as he sees fit—war, genocide, deforestation—all to feel the power of his position, to remind himself that he can do these things simply because he can.

We have reached a point in history where man does more than simply destroy. He creates. And that is infinitely worse.

Beings at the top of society's ladder of survival have no respect for life and death. They cannot value something that they have never questioned their possession of, or had to fight to keep. They do not appreciate death's completeness or understand life's fragility. They cannot comprehend the desperation with which most beings cling to life, or that life clings to beings in return. Life can be a treasure, truly. But it can also be a parasite, conniving and resilient, capable of impossible feats to escape its termination.

Man does not understand the powers that he is meddling with in his actions. He proclaims that it is for the good of discovery, the good of the people. The only discoveries he has made have been for his own personal gain, and the destruction of everything he imagines to be under his control—the destruction of the human race.

The scientists of the company InGen have sworn me to secrecy regarding their experiments. But matters of this size are not a matter of law. They are not a matter of science. They are a matter of right and wrong, of common sense, and knowledge of these events cannot be kept from the people. I feel that it is my responsibility to share this information with the public, to correct the wrongs that have been done, and to bring this company and those like it to a stop before they can lead our world into complete chaos.

It is only a matter of time until man's creations rise to take control of them. Life should not be toyed with. Life will find a way.

-Ian Malcom

Dedicated to the survivors of Isla Nublar, and to my daughters. You are my queens, my goddesses, my inspiration. I want to make sure the world you inherit is the safe one.

"Please tell me you're not reading that for the eighty fourth time."

Stephanie looked up from the book she was holding in her hands, lounging in an armchair by the window. She grinned at her mother, running a ringer down the crease in the heavily dog-eared page. "I'm not reading this for the eighty fourth time. Probably eighty fifth."

"You're hilarious," she sighed, smoothing out her blazer. "It's all so pretentious. It's up to him to stop mankind, as if he's not a part of it. For someone condemning the god complex, he's certainly close to having one."

"Can you blame him? He survives a lethal vacation, comes back, and no one believed him when he started talking about dinosaurs. He felt alone. And he was right, wasn't he?"

Her mother shot her a sharp look, straightening her bracelets and jumping subjects. "Is all your stuff downstairs? Are you sure you don't need—…?"

"To take anything out of the boxes, yes I am sure. We've been through the boxes eight times, Mom. Suitcases are immediate essentials, boxes property to be shipped. You can stop checking."

"I just want to make sure you didn't forget anything."

"It's an island, not the middle of the desert, Mom. I'm pretty sure they'll be a convenience store if I forget some toothpaste."

"Did you check—…?"

"Yes, I remembered the toothpaste. Mom, you know I've got this. Why are you so wound up?"

Her mother pursed her lips, avoiding her gaze by stepping into the hall. Judging by the jangling of her bracelets, she was fixing her hair in the mirror over the side table. "Okay, not your flight's in five hours, but I want to leave as soon as possible. The security for these tropical places is ridiculous, and I want to get lunch before you leave."

"Is this because Dad's coming?"

The jangling paused, then picked up with a renewed vigor. "He just had to insist that he come to the airport with us. He said he was going to be here at nine, and knowing your father, that means he probably won't be here until—…"

Ding dong.

Stephanie's face split into a wide grin as her mother muttered a curse. "Five minutes early. You were saying?"

"Could you get that, Steph? I'm going to grab the last suitcase from your room."

Her heels clicked away up the stairs, and Stephanie repressed a snort. Her mother was probably the most capable woman she knew, and she wasn't sure whether to be amused or concerned by her nerves. Her parents didn't exactly get along, but she was sure it was mostly out of stubbornness and determination not to. They'd be able to survive a few hours at the airport.

Stephanie closed her book and jogged into the front hall. She pulled the door open and had to jump back, grinning as a hand rapped on open air. The man on the stoop stepped back surprise, blinking behind large glasses and running a hand over his graying hair. "Oh geez, uh—sorry, sweetheart."

Stephanie surged forward, pulling him into a hug and pressing her face into his leather jacket. "Hi, Daddy!"

"Yeah, hi," he chuckled, but hurriedly cleared his throat as she pulled him inside. "Wait, no. No, no, no—no buttering me up with 'Daddy.' You are in big trouble, young lady. Big trouble."

"Dad—…"

"B-I-G, big trouble. Where is—uh—where's your mother?"

"Avoiding you," Stephanie said. She brushed past him, heading to the kitchen to grab a water bottle while he paused on the doormat.

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"What are you doing here so early?"

"Well, I had to uh, make sure you remembered to schedule in time for the huge lecture I'm about to give you."

"Sounds about right." She walked back into the room just in time to see the grudging smile that crossed his face. "If it helps, I missed you, Dad."

"Yeah. Yeah, I missed you too, kiddo."

The light clunking noise on the stairs made the pair of them look up, just as Stephanie's mother appeared on the landing. She held Stephanie's last bag in her left hand, her right on the bannister as she stared down at them coolly. "Well, thank you for deciding to show up. Thought today might slip your mind between all the book signings and movie deals and whatever else they're throwing at your feet these days."

"Margaret," he greeted, dipping his head with a wry smile.

She returned the gesture and headed down to the first floor. "Ian. Your daughter and I were just talking about you. Stephanie's reading your book. Again."

"Well, if there was ever a time to talk about my book…"

"Actually it was more a discussion of your general narcissism and attitude towards life."

"Well with you, it always is," he replied, straightening his glasses with a pained smile.

Stephanie stepped between them, holding a hand up to each. "Mom, Dad. Please. Can't we all get along for a few hours until I get out of here? Five hours as a family. That's all I'm asking."

There was a standoff moment of silence, each adult staring the other down and daring them to cave first. It was hard to tell who was defeated. Ian gave her his best smile, and Margaret scoffed as she continued down the steps. "Well, you can start by making yourself useful. Take this out to the car." She pushed the suitcase into his chest with enough force to make him step back, and was flurrying off into the next room before he could recover.

"You know, she's very good at making me regret coming to see you. All—All attitude," he said, bristling as he readjusted his grip on the bag.

Stephanie slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and smiled. "Complain all you want, but that's why you married her."

"Yes, well—uh—please don't make my mistakes."

She patted him heavily on the shoulder as they walked toward the door, but didn't argue.

It didn't take them long to load all of Stephanie's belongings into the car. It was only a few bags for now—two suitcases, her duffel and her backpack. At her father's somewhat snide comment about the surprisingly light packing, she reminded him that she wasn't in college anymore. She knew what she needed to survive, and wasn't a fan of over-packing, or of the airline's ridiculous baggage prices for that matter. Anything else she needed would be shipped in boxes, but she could survive on a suitcase full of clothes and some notebooks. Her father had quirked an eyebrow at the word "survive," walking around the car and grumbling about how she'd need several bombs and a lot more common sense if she really wanted to survive. Stephanie bit back her comment about that not going over well with airport security.

They ended up climbing into one car, Margaret behind the wheel and Ian bouncing his leg on the passenger side. Stephanie's eyes flicked between them from the backseat, surrounded by her luggage. She wondered briefly if they simply enjoyed torturing themselves or if this was supposed to be part of their plan—to break down her resolve by making her feel like a kid again so she would listen to her parents' orders. She hoped they knew better than that. Her mother had been trying to convince her to stay for months, but her mind was made up. She was an adult, and she would make her own decisions. No matter how much her parents hated it.

Stephanie was only able to escape her parent's judgmental glances when they walked into the airport. She quickly maneuvered her way through the crowd, getting onto the baggage line alone before they could protest. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she enjoyed the deep breath of relief. It felt a little odd to consider this a moment of piece—on line amidst a bunch of pushy strangers waiting to go on vacation. Passengers were subtly trying to elbow their way in front of each other. Children were bouncing up and down, crying loudly to their parents or dangerously waving their toys about. People hurriedly rearranged the contents of their bags, looking for items or trying to redistribute the weight. Parents sniped at each other while hurriedly tapping their feet. Well, that part she wasn't unfamiliar with.

She glanced over her shoulder, looking toward the window where her mother and father were standing waiting for her. They were talking quietly, infinitely more calm now that their daughter wasn't visibly watching them. Stephanie saw her father laugh and her mother roll her eyes, making her smile. It was good to know that they could still get along when the situation called for it. They were just too stubborn to agree most of the time. If there was one thing that they could agree on, it was that they didn't want her to get on that plane. That was some comfort after all the scolding she'd gotten.

Her parents returned to their sulks and pursed lips the moment she returned to them, and she had to drag them off through the rest of the airport. Dining options were limited on this side of security, but even having a best selling author as a father wasn't going to get her parents through security without boarding passes. They settled for some nondescript sandwiches, huddling into a booth in the corner where they could eat undisturbed. At least, Stephanie was eating. Her mother was picking at her own sandwich as best as she could with all the tension, while her father was staring at her steadily from across the table. He clearly wasn't going to bother pretending he was interested in his food.

Stephanie pretended to miss the way her mother elbowed her ex-husband in the ribs, glaring at him and jerking her head across the table. The man sighed, habitually fixing his glasses and clearing his throat. "So, your sister—uh, Brianne—she says hello. She wanted to come, but she was saying something about a baby shower..."

"A baby shower?" Stephanie asked, eyebrows quickly rising up her forehead. "She's not—..."

"No! No, oh God, no. Some friend of hers from college. Which—Which you'd know if you'd bother to pick up the phone once in a while. Or open emails or Facebook or whatever you do these days."

Stephanie did her best to ignore the jab. She knew her frequent radio silence frustrated her parents to no end, and it was something she'd tried to work on in the past. Ultimately though, she was just terrible at keeping in touch with people. If her parents hadn't been as addicted to Facebook as they refused to admit they were, she might not even know where her half-sisters were currently living.

She kept her eyes locked on her drink as she fiddled with the straw. "And uh, Kelly? Did she say anything to you about...anything...?"

Her parents shared a look, and Stephanie's heart dropped before her father even open his mouth. "Uh, no. She...wasn't around when I left..."

"Not around like out with friends, or not around like she locked herself in her room when she realized you were getting ready to come see me?"

"That. That second one's probably...about right."

"She'll come around, sweetheart," Stephanie's mother said, patting the hand that had gone limp around her soda. "She just doesn't want to think about you leaving."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it's the 'where' she has a problem with," Ian grumbled, earning himself a pointed glare from his ex-wife. "What? Can you blame her? Everything she went through, everything this—this family went through and then Stephanie turns around and essentially sells her soul to…"

"How's Sarah?" his daughter asked abruptly.

Stephanie repressed a smile as he huffed and rolled his shoulders. Sarah was his current wife, who he'd married a few years after what he referred to as the "San Fiasco." It was when he'd really started to clean up his act as a father—calling more often and visiting more frequently. Sarah had been good for him. She just also happened to be one of the only people in the family who hadn't threatened to skin Stephanie when she found out about her trip.

"Good. She's uh—She's good," her father replied. His voice was almost completely casual, and he redirected his look to the bag he'd been carrying with him. "Which actually reminds me, she uh—asked me to give you this. From her." He pulled out a thick book, the cover designed to look like printed scales. Raised white print spelled out the title, Creatures of the Mesozoic, followed by a subtitle that went on for two or three lines. She grinned, pulling the book toward her as her mother scoffed.

"You didn't think it might be a good idea to give it to her at the house, Ian? She might not even have room in her carry on."

"Thanks, Dad. And tell Sarah, too. It'll go right next to the book Ellie mailed me on paleobotany. And yours, of course."

"Ellie?" he repeated.

"Oh, did you send her a thank you?" Margaret interrupted. "And tell me you remembered to send—…"

"Charlie's birthday card, yes. They got both of them and said thank you, Mom."

"Ellie?" Ian asked again. "Oh, that's—that's nice. That's great. And, uh how—how long has she known?"

Stephanie looked over at him, but he was carefully avoiding her gaze. Her shoulders sagged, and she folded her arms on the table in front of her. "Not before you did, Dad."

"Ah. Yes, well—that's a comfort. Absolutely."

"Dad..."

"Anyone else send you gifts? Anyone else that you may have told? Dr. Grant? Uh—The President? The Queen of England?"

"Excuse me! I only told you and Mom!"

"I was the one who called Ellie," her mother confessed, and Ian groaned as his head fell into his hands. "I wanted her opinion on the situation, and we agreed that—even if we don't particularly like it—if Stephanie still wanted to go, then..."

"Then we should lock her in her room until everything goes extinct again," he finished.

"Ian!"

"It's fine, Mom." Stephanie pushed the second half of her sandwich aside. Apparently that was as much as she would be permitted to eat at the moment. She leaned back in her seat and met her father's eyes with an equally steady expression. "Alright, Dad. Go ahead."

"I just—what exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Eating."

"No—That's—That's not funny, Stephanie. That's not—I mean, have I taught you nothing? You're just going—going to ignore everything I've ever told you, every story you've heard? That's insane. This whole thing is insane! Before you even thought about thinking about considering this you should have called me so I could…"

"Well maybe if you hadn't insisted on staying in Europe for that book tour…"

"Margaret, I'm not going to—…!"

"Guys," Stephanie interrupted, her voice surprisingly calm. "This isn't about you. It's not about what you taught me, or when you didn't show up. This is about me. It's my decision."

"Yes! Yes, and that's why it's everything about us," her father insisted. "Anie, we're your parents. We're supposed to help you, protect you, and there isn't going to be any helping or protecting going on as long as you're on that island!"

"I know that you don't think it's a good idea..."

"Oh no, think? Think? No. No, I know it's not a good idea. Because it is an island full of dinosaurs, and eventually something is going to go wrong. I—I don't care how long they've been in business. Something always goes wrong, and dinosaurs always get out, and people always die."

"Dad...that's kind of my point."

"That's—That's your point?" he repeated, eyes doubling behind his glasses as he shook his head. "That's—Good. Good. So your point is that people will die. You want to go work on an island where you could die. Good, I'm—you know, I'm learning so much right now. Are you hearing this, Margaret? Are you hearing how she wants to die?"

"Dad, stop," Stephanie snapped. "I don't want to die. But I can't sit back and just wait for something to happen when I can do something to help."

"Sweetie, where is this getting lost in translation? You cannot help. It is going to happen. What do I keep telling you? Life will find..."

"Find a way, I know. But humans are alive too. And they will find a way to justify what they want, even if it's a park full of dinosaurs, and even if countless people have died trying to make that park a reality. The park isn't going to close just because it's a bad idea. The best we can do is try and control the damage. And I can do that."

Her father stared at her, his eyes squinted into slits behind the lenses of his glasses. Even under the unrelenting scrutiny, Stephanie didn't budge. Most of her family, her father included, acted as though taking the position at the park was the equivalent of going to the dark side. Her sister Kelly hadn't spoken to her in months because, as far as she was concerned, Stephanie was actively trying to make sure the park stayed open, that the nightmare her sister had lived through would remain a reality. But that wasn't the reason that she'd taken the job. She didn't think the park should be open at all. But it was, and she would not sit by and wait for someone to die so the park could close and reopen in another year or two. If Jurassic World was going to exist, she would have to make sure it wasn't completely incompetent.

Ian pursed his lips, turning to look at Margaret in frustration and annoyance. "When did she start talking like this? When—When did she become such a good talker?"

"Don't look at me," she replied, a bittersweet smile inching its way over her lips. "She's your daughter. Where do you think she gets it?"

The man sighed, crossing his arms on the table and giving his daughter one last once-over. "You realize this is on you, right? Anything you make for them is gonna have—have your name plastered all over it. The moment one of those animals gets out..."

"If I make it, those animals aren't getting out." Her father shot her a warning look, and she grinned. "When they get out, it won't be because of something I did. I know how serious this is. I learned from the best."

Ian snorted, slouching back in his seat. "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere with a tyrannosaurus."

"I don't even know if I'll be near a tyrannosaurus, Dad. It's not like they'll put me in charge of everything in the park. Besides, I'm an engineer. I probably won't even spend that much time on the island."

She gave him a pleading look, and the table fell into silence again. Her father shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking between his daughter and ex-wife, and finally down at the table. It was several seconds before he heaved a sigh, pulling his sandwich toward him in the ultimate gesture of defeat. "They better have just—absolutely incredible life insurance."

Stephanie relaxed, her spirits lifting almost as quickly as the corners of her mouth as her face split into a wide grin. She knew she didn't need her father's approval to accept the position the park was offering her. She was in her thirties now, beyond capable of making her own decisions an running her own life. Even if her father had started screaming in the middle of the airport, disowned her in front of a thousand innocent bystanders, she still would have kept her head high and marched onto the plane. But God, did his consent make that easier. For the first time in weeks, she was almost excited as she glanced at the clock on the wall. The countdown to her flight departure was no longer a bomb that would destroy the life she knew beyond repair. Now it was just that—a countdown to a plane that would take her to a new part of her life, one that would allow her to finally understand everything her family and friends had tried to explain to her growing up. Jurassic World might have been a dangerous, terrible idea, but it was an incredible opportunity for her career. And as far as terrible ideas went...it was a pretty cool one.

"Thanks, Dad," Stephanie said, nodding softly.

"Oh no don't—don't thank me," he scoffed, and waved a hand. "Thanking implies that I'm doing something that would allow you to go, to help you, when in reality I still think this is a terrible, awful idea, and I'm very worried. I'm very worried. But since you seem determined to go in spite of me—actually, even for the specific purpose to spite me—then you—you don't leave me much of a choice. I'm just—just bracing myself for the inevitable."

"So you're saying she's stubborn," Margaret suggested, one meticulously shaped eyebrow arched in amusement. "Who would have thought?"

Ian grumbled as the two women tried to smother their chuckles, and glared at the sandwich he'd bought to humor them. "Well, I blame you entirely."

The rest of their lunch was much calmer, once the subject of employment had been dropped. Ian spoke mostly about the struggles of his book tour, his second in the past two years. Even though it had been eighteen years since the public had finally discovered the existence of Hammond's dinosaurs, people were still clawing to get a chance to meet the survivors of the original park. Dr. Sattler did her best to preserve her quiet life in the suburbs, while Dr. Grant enjoyed his safety on his digs in the middle of the desert. There'd been one or two incidents of super fans voyaging into the wilderness to find him, but for the most part, his work kept him far out of the public eye.

Dr. Malcolm happened to be on the other end of the spectrum. Perhaps it had something to do with his previously tarnished reputation—which InGen had all but destroyed after he broke his non-disclosure agreement—but he spent most of his time out in the world talking about his experiences. His involvement in the San Francisco incident had made him and overnight, if not somewhat reluctant, celebrity. The world realized that Ian Malcom had been right all along. Book sales went through the roof, and every talk show host in the world seemed to be trying to get him on their show.

It had been a hassle to handle. Stephanie could only remember not seeing or hearing from her father for several months. When she did see him, it was on the television, trying to explain what had happened to him and his acquaintances without giving into the media's glorification of the experience. But no one seemed to care about whether or not it was moral or dangerous to be playing with dinosaur DNA. They wanted to know how long he thought it would be before investors would get the park to open, whether or not he would ever returned to either of the islands that had almost taken his life, or how he would feel about a movie being made about his "adventures," featuring real dinosaurs once they'd been trained of course. Ultimately, it was a bittersweet resurgence. His fame meant that he'd be set for life, but it was a life full of people who were only interested in the image they'd created of him. He handled it with as much grace as he could—outwardly thriving on the attention, but coming home to gripe about the stubborn ignorance he was faced with. Stephanie could understand that. That was why, despite how much her mother griped about his 'holier than thou' attitude, she was proud of everything he'd done.

Now she just had to hope she could handle the park in a way that would make him proud, too.

As the clock hands inched closer to the time of departure, Stephanie and her parents made their way towards the edge of the security line. Margaret's jaw had gone stiff, tense with the effort of keeping a calm and confident face, and Ian began to fidget more frequently. They had no idea how long it would be before they saw their daughter—and that was if everything went according to plan and she survived.

Margaret tugged her daughter toward her, resting her chin on her shoulder and wrapping her arms around her torso. "Oh, are you sure you have to go?"

The hug was tight enough that Stephanie was sure she'd bruised her ribs, but she held her breath and her tongue until she could pull away. "Yes, Mom. Besides, I have a nice, first class seat and free alcohol waiting for me. Be a shame to let it go to waste."

"Alcohol, yes. That's exactly what you need going to an island full of prehistoric monsters," her father scoffed. His ex-wife gave him a pointed look, and he held up his hands. "I was actually being serious that time. You'd have to be drunk or crazy to go. Both. At least they're good enough to pay for it."

"And for her Mesozoic Special Pass," her mother added, brushing a piece of dark hair behind Stephanie's ear. "And all of her food, and future travel expenses, and her deluxe suite at the resort."

"Spare no expense," Stephanie quoted. She rolled her eyes, but kept smiling. She wasn't strong enough to look down on all the special bonuses they were throwing at her, even if they were essentially bribes.

"Well, it's definitely still Hammond's park. Pamper you before you get, uh...torn to pieces." This time he was met by two razor-sharp looks, which was enough to deflate his ego for the moment. "Okay, alright, I get it. Stop it with the death jokes. Fine. Live in denial. Come here." He pulled Stephanie into his chest, laying a soft kiss on the top of her head and holding her tightly. "I know how talented you are, Steph. So, if this is what you want to do, then you—you go do it. You keep those dinosaurs contained. Show 'em who's boss, just... Enjoy it while it's good, and get out of there before it's not."

Stephanie pressed her face against her father's leather jacket, squeezing gently and breathing in his cologne for the first and last time in what felt like years. "I'll be fine, Dad. Mom always reminds me, I'm my father's daughter."

"That's not usually supposed to be a compliment," Margaret quipped, en edge of laughter in her voice.

"Which reminds me." He pulled back to fumble through one of the bags he had been carrying. A moment later, he pulled out a dark bundle of fabric, which he shook quickly into the shape of a leather jacket. "I know it's hot in Central America, but you are a Malcom at heart and damn it, you will look the part." She laughed as he slipped the jacket onto her shoulders, tugging it straight and dusting off her shoulders. "There. There, now you're—you're ready. You're good to go. Go do...this..."

He quickly ducked his head and looked away as his words began to fail him, but Stephanie smiled. She rushed forward to give him another hug, and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thanks, Dad. I love it, and I love you."

"Love you too, Anie."

"Please be safe," her mother begged, pulling her out of her father-daughter moment and into another hug—though one that felt less like she was trying to murder her. "I love you so much. And for God's sake, text me before you take off. And when you land."

"And when I get there, and when I get to my room, and when I see my first dinosaur, and when I see my first Jurassic World bathroom..."

"Oh hush. I know you can take care of yourself. I just don't want you to drop off the face of the Earth just because you're in Costa Rica."

"Am I free to go now?"

Her mother sighed, kissing her cheek one last time before she relinquished her. "Yes, yes. You're free to go. Go do an incredible job, sweetheart. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom," she said, taking her first few steps backwards as her parents trailed after her.

"And—hey—and no—no flirting, Stephanie. I mean it. Keep yours eyes on uh...the man-eating dinosaurs."

"God, I'm leaving now!"

Before anyone could think of something else that might changer her mind, Stephanie pushed her way onto the security line. She quickly lost herself in the jumble of people, distracting her mind with the process of finding her boarding pass and checking her pockets. She made it through without a problem, though she found she was already reluctant to remove her new leather jacket, even for the two minutes she needed to. She recollected her things, and had almost made it around the corner towards the terminals when she paused. She looked back at the crowded security area, filled with businessmen and families and students going abroad. She couldn't see through them. But somewhere on the other side of that mob, her parents were undoubtedly still rooted to the spot—not speaking, but just waiting until one of them had the courage to leave their daughter first.

Stephanie pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of herself with the security line in the background. She entered it into a message, listing both her mother and father's number even though she knew they'd be slightly annoyed at not receiving them separately.

"Don't worry. Still alive."

She hurried along to find her plane, choosing a seat against the window. She looked out over the people who would be her fellow passengers, grinning at a small blonde boy who was attacking his sister with his plush T-rex. It was moments like this that made her pause to think about her decision, about the idea of the park as a whole. For years, Jurassic World had been open and making the wishes of little boys and girls come true by letting them see in person the creatures they saw in picture books. Even adults who'd been embarrassingly obsessed with dinosaurs when they were kids loved it. The point was to show the public something amazing, and remind them of their place in the universe—to make them feel infinitesimally small, but also remind them that they would always be a part of something much bigger and more incredible than they could imagine.

But that was the downside, wasn't it? The human race's part in the universe was small, and by bringing these animals back to life, they were making themselves smaller. They weren't assured their place at the top of the food chain just because they'd created the dinosaurs. Things would get out of hand. People would die. People already had. It was just hard to remember that when confronted with the smiling face of a child who wanted to ride a triceratops.

Stephanie realized quickly that, without her parents by her side, she was a lot less sure of her decision. When her father had been telling her she couldn't go, it was easy to defend her ideas. The park wouldn't go away, and she would be damned if she let someone die before she could try and help. But now it was just her and boarding runway. There was no one holding her back, and the decision was entirely up to her. She could get on the plane and try to organize an amusement park that would ultimately take someone's life. Or she could walk away right now—please her parents, assure that her own life would be safe, talk to her sister without being afraid that she hated her. But what would happen when people started dying? The park might close down, yes, but those people would still be dead. Even if she could tame the park for a while, someone else would just die instead. But wasn't it worth it to prolong that dream a little longer, so one more smiling child could see a dinosaur?

An announcement blared over the speaker, alerting the passengers to the fact that boarding would soon begin. Stephanie jumped slightly in her seat, oblivious to how much time had passed. In a matter of minutes, she'd been ushered onto the plane, shown to her very roomy seat, and locked inside the aircraft. She watched in trepidation as the California landscape rolled by, and found herself reaching for one of the small bottles of wine that had been placed in front of her. There was no point worrying about it now. She was already on her way to Jurassic World.

A/N: I can't believe I let myself do this. I feel like such dinosaur-loving trash. Ultimately, Jurassic World reduced me to my five-year-old, dinosaur-loving self, and I haven't shut up about the movie since it came out. Also, Chris Pratt, so you know.

I'm not sure how frequently this will be updated or where exactly I'm going with it, but I figured I'd give it a shot, right? Thanks for putting up with my incessant rambling and my too-frantic-to-stay-in-one-fandom brain.

-Brittney