God is Dead, and Man Has Killed Him

"God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates Man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs. Dinosaurs eat Man. Woman inherits the earth."

"Nice quote. You think of that yourself?"

"No. It was in Malcolm's book. He quote mined it from the incident back in ninety-three."

"Ah."

It was awkward conversation, Owen reflected. Maybe it came from reading Ian Malcolm's book in the first place – chaos theory was way over his head, and it wasn't even his field. But he knew the history of Isla Nublar. Knew that part of his job was working with some of the most dangerous predators to have ever walked the planet. And he'd thought it best to try and understand what had happened to best avoid it. Or, God help him (fat chance of that), deal with history repeating itself.

"How's your burger?"

"Fine."

It wasn't. The meat was processed and underdone. He supposed nothing else could be expected from a brontosaurus burger when the animal in question didn't even eat meat. Or when Apatosaurus was the correct term anyway. But he suspected the marketers knew it.

Or maybe it's meat from an Apatosaurus. Who could tell?

Claire certainly knew it the truth of the matter at any rate. And he suspected that she already knew what was on his mind.

"I know what you're thinking," the geneticist said.

"That the burger sucks?"

"Well, that also. But I was more thinking about our earlier conversation. About the D-Rex."

D-Rex. Christ if I hear that bloody name again-

"Yes," Owen said, putting the burger to one side and starting on the fries. "I know you've got to put on a show for Masrani, but-"

"No, I've got to put on a show for the twenty-thousand people that come to Isla Nublar every day." Claire took a bite of her own burger. "You're right. This tastes terrible."

"Burgers aside," Owen said, glad that they agreed on at least one thing, "it's a bad idea. We're hosting dinosaurs Claire. Dinosaurs. I don't think those twenty-thousand people need a hybrid to draw them in."

"Owen, every dinosaur in this park is a hybrid," Claire said, putting her own burger aside as well. "It's the miracle of gene sequencing. Fill in the DNA gaps, lay some eggs, pop out some walking lizards, sell tickets. The D-Rex is an extension of that. Nothing more."

"But not a real dinosaur."

"Course it's not. You know as well as I do that there's not a single dinosaur in this park that's real. They look the way they do because they're our best guess as to what dinosaurs looked like. It was like that with InGen. It's like that with Masrani."

"And that's not enough," he said. "You want to create this freak of nature, play God-"

"Don't," Claire said, leaning back in her chair. "Don't play the God card Owen. Specific breeding. Eugenics. GMCs. We're simply taking the next step. And if that's too much for you, you're free to leave."

"Am I?"

"No," she said. "Not while your contract still holds up."

"Thought as much."

"Good. Now is that all? My lunch break is nearly over and there's a chance I might be able to get some real food while it lasts."

Owen remained silent, eating some fries to bide for time. Deep down, he knew he couldn't convince Claire that this was a terrible idea. That he couldn't give a concrete reason as to why it was terrible. After all, Jurassic World was functioning flawlessly. It was a system that had cost money and lives in San Diego and on this very island over a decade ago, but it was a system that worked nonetheless. Even if John Hammond had never lived to see it, his dream had come to pass. A self-contained ecosystem that was controlled, profitable, and yet open to people from all walks of life.

"Anything?" Claire said, getting up.

"No," Owen sighed. "You want this…D-Rex…go on and do it."

"I will," she said. She turned to leave, before stopping in her tracks and glancing back at Owen. "That quote. The one about women inheriting the earth. Why bring it up?"

He shrugged. "Thought it was appropriate."

"A quote from an old book from a time even longer ago." She smirked. "Why?"

"Well, it's fitting isn't it?" he asked. "A man, John Hammond, creates dinosaurs. Those dinosaurs eat a bunch of people, most of them male. Masrani effectively inherits what InGen began, and we've got a woman running the show. The one doing the inheriting."

Claire frowned. "Does that bother you Owen? Would you prefer a man in charge?"

"No," he said, finishing his fries. "But I'm just not keen on being eaten if the quote goes backwards."

"Right." Claire looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it and moved on.

"Or anyone else," he murmured.

A/N

So, saw the trailer for Jurassic World recently. Despite what the fic might indicate, I don't really have issues with the hybrid (or much else), but the how's and why's are too long to list here, and hey, I'm well aware of the possibility that we could have another Jurassic Park III on our hands. Still, got me to drabble this up at least, so there's that I guess.