Paradeisia: Origin of Paradise (6 page)

Doctor Ming-Zhen nodded, “I'm sure you are.”  At least even if Chao didn't have any sense, his Jia Ling apparently yet retained some of her faculties.  He straightened his shoulders, “Now, let's see what else we can find.”

The skeleton was lying belly up, as if it had rolled onto its back when it died.  They dug down past the coracoids to the upper ribs, and were now busy clearing out the chest cavity.  Doctor Ming-Zhen was eager to see if the spine was there,
because if it was they could trace it up to the head.

Most complete dinosaur skeletons
that had been found exhibited opisthotonus, or the “death pose.”  Heads thrown back, tails raised up, as if in agony, the “death pose” occurred in any creatures that died of brain damage, asphyxiation, or drowning, including humans.

So if they did find the head, it would probably be behind the vertebrae of the back.

Now, though, they unexpectedly ran into a round dome-like fossil within the lower rib chamber.

As his young students chipped away at the debris around the   domed fossil, Doctor Ming-Zhen watched closely to be sure they didn't damage it.  They were using dental picks and brushes, but fossils were very delicate and you couldn't be too careful.

It was definitely a domed skull from something; most likely the deinocheirus' last meal.  This was exciting because it could reveal something about the extinct creature's diet, but at this moment he couldn't remotely identify what it was from.

They continued to work, and by the time the forward facing eye sockets, nasal cavity, and top row of teeth were revealed, the truth was so obvious that Jia Ling dropped her pick with a sudden gasp, pulling away in revulsion.

Evident even to an untrained eye, this was the skull of a mammal, a primate.  And not just any primate.  The familiar, disconcerting gaze which stared back from the gaping eye sockets conveyed the irrefutable truth to every person staring back: this was
Homo sapiens.

From his knees where he had fallen, Doctor Ming-Zhen stared at the long-dead human and was overcome with a strange horror.  Flashing through his mind was a giant, long-fingered hand clutching a man, the claws curled around to gore him through the chest, and immense jaws swooping down towards his head.

But this was impossible, he thought.  Dinosaurs and man were separated by millions of years of evolution.

His mind spinning, he remembered that a team of his colleagues in China had identified a cat-sized mammalian fossil that contained a tiny dinosaur in its stomach.  At the time, scientists the world over had admitted that it overturned the premise that early mammals of the Cretaceous had been timid little animals that lurked in the shadows of the much more advanced
dinosauria
.  This premise had of course been based on the necessity of evolution taking time.  The cat-sized animal provided an image of a more powerful, more evolutionarily advanced Cretaceous mammal.

Even so, a small mammal here or there did not equate to a human being.  Not by a long shot.  This was impossible.

And yet, here it was, before their very eyes.

Still gazing at the fossil, he said quietly and slowly, “It is fortunate that you came, Chao.  It seems we require the expertise of a paleoanthropologist after all.”

If only he really was an expert, he thought with repugnance.

China Academy of Sciences

Doctor Ming-Zhen and his team made the journey back to Beijing as soon as they had completed the excavation, and immediately began work on a paper for publication.  Knowing that their discovery would likely attract a great deal of scrutiny, they left no stone unturned and took a full year to fully document the find.

When they had finished excavating the stomach cavity, every piece from the unfortunate human was accounted for.  It appeared the dinosaur had swallowed him in three chunks; fairly dainty dining for something with a ten-foot mandible.  And the evidence was proof positive that the deinocheirus had swallowed the man: the teeth of the dino perfectly matched indentations on the human's bones.

As for the deinocheirus itself, the truth of the creature proved paleontology to be totally mistaken in its classification as an “ostrich dino.”

Representing an amalgamation of features from several dinosaur families, the complete deinocheirus skeleton defied belief.  Its head was nearly twice the length of tyrannosaur's, and the jaws contained an extremely formidable set of teeth; the longest tooth measuring in at over a foot from jaw line to tip.  It turned out to be the largest carnivorous dinosaur ever found; sixty-five feet in length.

Clearly, t-rex was going to fall to be bottom of little boys' toychests...  This skeleton had proven deinocheirus not only to be the new “king” of the dinosaurs, but also, given the contents of its belly, the king of men.

They documented all of it, every last detail.

But it was all for nothing.  In the end, he wished he never would have found it.

94 Golfpointe Road

Wesley's eyes opened.  He couldn't believe he had actually been sleeping.  It had been two days since Sienna died, and he hadn't slept a wink until now.  He brought the recliner upright and yawned, orienting himself.  He was in the sitting room of his mother's house, a five-bedroom lakeside colonial.  In the room was a sandstone fireplace surrounded by white shelves filled with those bounded vestiges of the past that nobody knew how to get rid of.

For a few moments, Wesley just stared at the flames as they licked off the logs.  Why his mother had a fire blazing in near-summer weather, he didn't know.  Probably just the ambiance...  He almost felt like he might doze off, but then it happened again.

A memory.

They were at the department store exit, sunshine glistening off the pavement outside the glass doors.  He was pushing a cart with the new crib and a couple baby supplies.  She was scampering in front wearing little shorts and a carefree t-shirt.  The doors slid open and she spun around with a smile, “This is going to be one spoiled baby!”

“You've got that right,” he said, laughing.

And the memory froze as he felt a sharp pain deep within him.  That sweet smile, radiant with her sparkling eyes...

Dead.

But the memories...  They were alive and well.  Each one brought a new kind of pain, laid another stone on his monument of
grief.

His cell phone rang.  The caller ID read, “CDC 202-342-3993.”  He welcomed any distraction, so he answered immediately.

Jet

When the meeting adjourned, Aubrey returned to her seat.  Now, the phone in her lap buzzed.  The screen said “He
nry Potter.”  She answered it, “Hello?”

His sharp voice came on the other end, “When I call you, it's not because I want to gossip.  It's because I need you here, now.  In the future, don't bother answering, just get over here.  Is that understood?”

“Yes, sorry, yes.”

“And I'm certain Maggie would have explained this to you.”

She was silent.  Aubrey wasn't sure if this was a question or a statement.

“Didn't she?”

“Yes, she didn't.  I mean no, she did.  She did.”  She waited for a response, feeling foolish.

The response that came from him verbalized her feeling:

“Idiot.”

And the call ended.

After she recovered from the shock of the call, Aubrey was mad.  She was just mad.  Maggie had manipulated her into this job and now she was trapped on a plane with a new boss who was clearly a British jerk.  And, to make things worse, she didn't even know where the plane was going!  She decided she would find out.  But first, she was going to give this Henry Potter a piece of her mind.

She swung open the door to his office.  And immediately all her bravado disappeared.  She couldn't explain it, but just something about the man standing there behind his desk disarmed her.  It could have been his suit.  It could have been the lavishness of his office.  It could have been something within her that longed for approval; but whatever it was, she froze.

Henry shook his head impatiently and said, “Okay...here you go again.  What does one typically do when entering a room?”

Aubrey's head spun.  She couldn't think.  What had she done wrong now?

“Merciful heavens.  What rock did Maggie find you under?  Aubrey: one knocks.  So go out and knock on the door.”  Henry was rubbing his temple in exasperation.

Aubrey backed out, feeling dismayed, absurd, and angry all at once.  After the door was closed, she raised her hand and paused.  This was really going to be difficult to do.  But she just couldn't deny this inexplicable urge to please him.  She knocked.

“Come in.”

She opened the door and entered.

“Let's not have a repeat of this lesson, shall we?  Knock next time.”

“Yes.”

“Now, I called you here because I don't have time to wait for Maggie to explain how I like things done.  First, we'll go visit the closet so you can familiarize yourself with my mode of dress.  Come along.”

As he walked past her, Aubrey couldn't believe what she had just heard.  Did he actually say “visit the closet?”

From the hallway he called, “Do you expect me to whistle at you like a bitch?  Come along!”

He led her to one of the on-jet suites where there was a queen size bed, armchair, and generously sized closet, all surrounded by mahogany walls.  Then he proceeded to elaborate on every facet of his attire, from which suits matched which shirts to what socks he preferred to wear with which shoes (shoes he expected to be polished and at-the-ready all the time).  He had a large a collection of ties, each one especially selected for specific outfits.

Aubrey knew she wouldn't remember any of this.  She blurted, “I can't remember all this!”

“Lucky for you, it's all on a chart in your phone,” Henry said.

They moved on to his toothpastes, mouthwashes and other toiletries, which he expected her to keep in stock.  He had exacting procedures for sanitizing and storing all of his morning accoutrements.

Then it was his phones.

He had two phones, each the same exact model.  In the morning, he required the first to be neatly wiped and ready for his use.  Mid-day, he anticipated to switch to another polished
, print-free phone.  And in the late afternoon, another.  He demanded that they be wiped, first with Windex and then an isopropyl alcohol solution (to kill any and all microorganisms, he said).

And so it went.  Every part of his day spelled out, no detail overlooked.  To Aubrey, it was readily apparent that obsessive-compulsive didn't even begin to describe him.  In fact, he was practically like a baby in the extent to which he demanded his needs be met.  The longer he went on and on, the less intimidating he became until Aubrey concluded that Henry was not a first-class British jerk at all; he was just a moron.

“Aubrey, are you listening?” he said, apparently perturbed by the far-off look in her eyes.

She smiled with the patronizing gaze of a mother and replied, “Yes, of course I'm listening, Henry.”

As he continued, now spelling out the importance of keeping her skirt free of lint and her general appearance tidy, she realized that this was not just a job; this was a higher calling: this man needed to be rescued from himself.

That's what she thought, at least, until he dropped the bombshell.

“Of course I'll expect you to undergo gene replacement therapy,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I'll cover the cost, but there are two things with your appearance that don't meet my approval.”

“Oh, yeah?  What are those?” Aubrey said, her eyes narrowing.  She had never heard any complaints before....

“First, your hair.  Either you can have gene replacement if you want a long-term change, or you can simply dye it.  I don't give a damn.  But it cannot stay blonde.”

“What?” Aubrey exclaimed in shock.  She couldn't believe he would insist on a change to her hair color of all things.

Henry said, “Studies have shown that women blondes are not as respected as brunettes.  If you're going to be by my side as I do business, I need you to be as respectable-looking as possible.  If you want to be more respected for the rest of your life, allow me to pay for a treatment.”

“And what's the second thing?”

“Bust reduction.”

Aubrey was aghast, “You've got to be kidding me.”

“Not that I need to explain this to you, but countless studies have shown that women with smaller busts are perceived to be more intelligent.  I need my personal assistant to look as intelligent as possible.  And, again, I'm offering this charitably, as treatment that would be to your benefit long-term.”