Michael Crichton - Jurassic Park

Grant looked at all the computer monitors in the darkened control room, feeling irritable. Grant didn't like computers. He knew that this made him old-fashioned, dated as a researcher, but he didn't care. Some of the kids who worked for him had a real feeling for computers, an intuition. Grant never felt that. He found computers to be alien, mystifying machines. Even the fundamental distinction between an operating system and an application left him confused and disheartened, literally lost in a foreign geography he didn't begin to comprehend. But he noticed that Gennaro was perfectly comfortable, and Malcolm seemed to be in his element, making little sniffing sounds, like a bloodhound on a trail.

"You want to know about control mechanisms?" John Arnold said, turning in his chair in the control room. The head engineer was a thin, tense, chain-smoking man of forty-five. He squinted at the others in the room. "We have unbelievable control mechanisms," Arnold said, and lit another cigarette.

"For example," Gennaro said.

"For example, animal tracking." Arnold pressed a button on his console, and the vertical glass map lit up with a pattern of jagged blue lines. "That's our juvenile T-rex. The little rex. All his movements within the park over the last twenty-four hours." Arnold pressed the button again. "Previous twenty-four." And again. "Previous twenty-four."

The lines on the map became densely overlaid, a child's scribble. But the scribble was localized in a single area, near the southeast side of the lagoon.

"You get a sense of his home range over time," Arnold said. "He's young, so he stays close to the water. And he stays away from the big adult rex. You put up the big rex and the little rex, and you'll see their paths never cross.

"Where is the big rex right now?" Gennaro asked.

Arnold pushed another button. The map cleared, and a single glowing spot with a code number appeared in the fields northwest of the lagoon. "He's right there."

"And the little rex?"

"Hell, I'll show you every animal in the park," Arnold said. The map began to light up like a Christmas tree, dozens of spots of light, each tagged with a code number. "That's two hundred thirty-eight animals as of this minute."

"How accurate?"

"Within five feet." Arnold puffed on the cigarette. "Let's put it this way: you drive out in a vehicle and you will find the animals right there, exactly as they're shown on the map."

"How often is this updated?"

"Every thirty seconds."

"Pretty impressive," Gennaro said. "How's it done?"

"We have motion sensors all around the park," Arnold said. "Most of 'em hard-wired, some radio-telemetered. Of course, motion sensors won't usually tell you the species, but we get image recognition direct off the video. Even when we're not watching the video monitors, the computer is. And checking where everybody is."

"Does the computer ever make a mistake?"

"Only with the babies. It mixes those up sometimes, because they're such small images. But we don't sweat that. The babies almost always stay close to herds of adults. Also you have the category tally."

"What's that?"

"Once every fifteen minutes, the computer tallies the animals in all categories," Arnold said. "Like this."

Total Animals 238____________________

Species Expected Found Ver

Tyrannosaurs 2 2 4.1

Maiasaurs 21 21 3.3

Stegosaurs 4 4 3.9

Triceratops 8 8 3.1

Procompsognathids 49 49 3.9

Othnielia 16 16 3.1

Velociraptors 8 8 3.0

Apatosaurs 17 17 3.1

Hadrosaurs 11 11 3.1

Dilophosaurs 7 7 4.3

Pterosaurs 6 6 4.3

Hypsilophodontids 33 33 2.9

Euoplocepbalids 16 16 4.0

Styracosaurs 18 18 3.9

Callovosaurs 22 22 4.1

Total 238 238

"What you see here," Arnold said, "is an entirely separate counting procedure. It isn't based on the tracking data. It's a fresh look. The whole idea is that the computer can't make a mistake, because it compares two different ways of gathering the data. If an animal were missing, we'd know it within five minutes."

"I see," Malcolm said. "And has that ever actually been tested?"

"Well, in a way," Arnold said. "We've had a few animals die. An othniellan got caught in the branches of a tree and strangled. One of the stegos died of that intestinal illness that keeps bothering them. One of the hypsilophodonts fell and broke his neck. And in each case, once the animal stopped moving, the numbers stopped tallying and the computer signaled an alert."

"Within five minutes."

"Yes."

Grant said, "What is the right-hand column?"

"Release version of the animals. The most recent are version 4.1 or 4.3. We're considering going to version 4.4."

"Version numbers? You mean like software? New releases?"

"Well, yes," Arnold said. "It is like software, in a way. As we discover the glitches in the DNA, Dr. Wu's labs have to make a new version."

The idea of living creatures being numbered like software, being subject to updates and revisions, troubled Grant. He could not exactly say why-it was too new a thought-out he was instinctively uneasy about it. They were, after all, living creatures…

Arnold must have noticed his expression, because he said, "Look, Dr. Grant, there's no point getting starry-eyed about these animals. It's important for everyone to remember that these animals are created. Created by man. Sometimes there are bugs. So, as we discover the bugs, Dr. Wu's labs have to make a new version. And we need to keep track of what version we have out there."

"Yes, yes, of course you do," Malcolm said impatiently. "But, going back to the matter of counting-I take it all the counts are based on motion sensors?"

"Yes."

"And these sensors are everywhere in the park?"

"They cover ninety-two percent of the land area," Arnold said. "There are only a few places we can't use them. For example, we can't use them on the jungle river, because the movement of the water and the convection rising from the surface screws up the sensors. But we have them nearly everywhere else. And if the computer tracks an animal into an unsensed zone, it'll remember, and look for the animal to come out again. And if it doesn't, it gives us an alarm."

"Now, then," Malcolm said. "You show forty-nine procompsognatbids. Suppose I suspect that some of them aren't really the correct species. How would you show me that I'm wrong?"

"Two ways," Arnold said. "First of all, I can track individual movements against the other presumed compys. Compys are social animals, they move in a group. We have two compy groups in the park. So the individuals should be within either group A or group B."

"Yes, but-"

"The other way is direct visual," he said. He punched buttons and one of the monitors began to flick rapidly through images of compys, numbered from 1 to 49.

"These pictures are…"

"Current ID images. From within the last five minutes."

"So you can see all the animals, if you want to?"

"Yes. I can visually review all the animals whenever I want."

"How about physical containment?" Gennaro said. "Can they get out of their enclosures?"

"Absolutely not," Arnold said. "These are expensive animals, Mr. Gennaro. We take very good care of them. We maintain multiple barriers. First, the moats." He pressed a button, and the board lit up with a network of orange bars. "These moats are never less than twelve feet deep, and water-filled. For bigger animals the moats may be thirty feet deep. Next, the electrified fences." Lines of bright red glowed on the board. "We have fifty miles of twelve-foot-high fencing, including twenty-two miles around the perimeter of the island. All the park fences carry ten thousand volts. The animals quickly learn not to go near them."

"But if one did get out?" Gennaro said.