Feeding Time

Bit warmer than I remember.

It could have been her imagination. When she'd come to Isla Nublar for the first (and until recently, only) time, the exact temperature had been the last thing on her mind. But still, it felt warmer. Maybe it was climate change. Maybe she had come to Jurassic World in the midst of a warm spell. Maybe it was indeed her imagination. Or maybe, for whatever reason, it was indeed warmer.

Either way, Lex Murphy took another slip from her stegosaurus slushy. It was sweet, it was unhealthy, it was far less efficient in keeping her hydrated than water. But damn did it taste good. And since she was in Jurassic World, she figured she might as well experience what the largest theme park in the world had to offer. Including its beverages.

And is that the only reason?

She continued slurping as she sat on a bench. Well, not really. She'd come as part of a contract job, to update the security centre's software. It was a task that she'd done in half the expected time, and she was free to enjoy the park for the rest of the week.

Yeah, but that isn't the actual reason is it?

No, Lex thought, it wasn't. She'd realized it the moment she'd walked into the security centre. The moment that guy with the plastic dinosaurs had shook her hand, calling her the Alexis Murphy. The moment when the operations manager began spouting figures, how there were zero "incidents" (that's what they called them – "incidents") in all the park's years of operation. How its security systems were the most advanced in the world, impervious to outside or inside interference. How Simon Masrani had made her grandfather's dreams come true.

They'd treated her like a celebrity. Like a genius. They'd treated her as if they were looking for validation. That yes, it was a shame that she'd nearly been eaten by a T-Rex and raptors, that it was a shame that her brother had suffered electric shock, that it was a pity that people had died all those years ago, but none of that would ever happen again.

And damn it, she'd given it to them. She'd done the job. She'd taken the compliments and questions in good cheer. And as she finished off a sugar-drink named after a creature that had become extinct 65 million years ago, she could only ask about her own reasons. That part of her wanted to cry foul – this park was not her grandfather's creation, that it was a cash-in on his name that didn't even have the decency to keep the old name or logo. That the John Hammond as she remembered him wouldn't have wanted this – that he'd wanted his creations to be confined to Isla Sorna. That she had no business being here.

And yet part of her loved it. Part of her was reminded of her 13 year old self, as she and her brother had gone through those giant wooden doors for the first time. How now, over a decade later, she'd felt like a child again. That when she'd seen her grandfather's statue in the Innovation Centre, she had fought back the urge to cry. To run over and hug him, and whisper "you did it."

…I need another drink.

Lex got to her feet. And almost immediately fell back onto her feet as something barged into her.

"Oof."

Actually, not something, someone. A small boy, likely seven or eight years old. Far too young to be running around the park without supervision. And given that he was crying, Lex guessed that his supervision was in the midst of trying to get back to supervising.

"Um…hi," Lex began.

The child sniffed. "I…sorry…I…"

Lex winced – she wasn't any good with children. Tim was a natural, but she'd never got the hang of it.

"You okay?" she asked. "Where's your mummy?"

It could have been 'daddy,' she reflected, or any other family member. But 'mummy' seemed like a good place to start.

"Mummy," the boy began. "She…she's back…back there."

So she was right, Lex reflected. A few minutes from now, "mummy" would be looking for her offspring as a million years of human instinct took over, stemming back even further if you factored in pre-Homo sapien species. But she was more interested at the structure he was pointing to. The one with a sign that said T-Rex Kingdom. Warning: This Event May Be Disturbing For Young Children."

Oh god.

"It…it ate it," the boy stammered. "It…it…"

He sniffed and wrapped his hands around Lex's waist. She didn't wince. She just kept her eyes fixed on the sign.

T-Rex Kingdom

She knew what was in there. It was even an advertisement that it was the original T-Rex from Jurassic Park. That Rexy, the saviour of Jurassic Park (apparently eating raptors got you called a "saviour," never mind the people that had entered its stomach beforehand), was now here at Jurassic World, ready to entertain. Or something. That, and she was in a paddock with plenty of room, plenty of concrete, and plenty of plexiglas that would keep visitors safe.

"Tim!"

Tim. Tim had nearly been killed. So had she.

"Oh my God, Tim!"

The glass hadn't stopped "Rexy" then. "Rexy" had tried to kill them. "Rexy" had succeeded in eating Donald. "Rexy" may have taken out those raptors, but if there was a saviour in Jurassic Park, she'd give credit to the likes of Alan Grant and Ellie Sattler. Not some giant walking clone that was tailor made to look like how people imagined a T-Rex to be.

"Tim!"

And she felt the boy be wrenched away from her. Blinking, she found the source – "mummy." Mummy, in her red dress, big hat, and dark sunglasses.

"Tim, you had me so worried."

Tim? Could it-

She shook the surprise away – so what if there was more than one Tim in the world? Tim Murphy was currently doing an internship in palaeontology in Montana. Tim Murphy was twenty years old. Her brother was happy, staying away from the park that he'd made abundantly clear that he'd never, ever visit when she'd called him last week.

"I'm so sorry," said the woman. She sighed. "He ran out of the feeding show. I told him that the glass kept us safe, but, you know, children."

Lex forced a smile. "Well," she said, looking down at Tim. "You know better now, don't you? No running off."

Tim nodded. And "mummy" gave a final thank you (or apology, it was hard to make out), before heading off. Not seeing Lex sigh and collapse back onto the chair.

She'd told Tim not to run off. Not that "the glass couldn't break" or "Rexy would never hurt you." Such words might have been reassuring, but truth was far more important than reassurance. And while the former statement might have been true, she couldn't say it. She'd been behind glass before. She'd been at the mercy of what some still called the world's most fearsome land predator. And she would never, ever suggest that such a creature would never harm the race of bi-pedal mammals that had brought it back to life.

Lex sighed again, and looked at her empty slushy can.

Time for that drink.