Jurassic World: I Am Simon Masrani

Boardroom – Early Morning (Masrani Global Virtual Session)

On the Screen Eight windows opened in sequence: familiar faces.

Some were backlit by city skylines.

Others framed by blinds drawn tight, with artificial lighting bouncing off polished desks and polished egos.

The quarterly Masrani Global session had just begun and already, the tone was colder than usual.

Claire stood off-camera, earpiece in, flicking through operational logs.

Kamal had sent the last genome update exactly six minutes before the call.

Jia had opted out as she hated these meetings and knew better than to pretend otherwise.

I, however, was front and center here, smiling.

"Let's begin with the asset containment report," said Charles Dunning.

Charles Dunning, a multi-millionaire who built his empire on extensive tilapia fish farms, also holds a significantly newer position on the board of Masrani Global.

He always went first in such meetings.

Charles always had a way of speaking that made everything sound serious and depressing.

"The Pachycephalosaurus integration has been completed successfully ," I replied.

"The Enclosure performance is also stable, with no behavioral anomalies observed as of now."

Charles offered a small nod, then adjusted something just out of frame.

His voice was pleasant, as if he had practised this before.

"Simon I wanted to inquire about the sequencing protocols?"

"They are still being protected under the Hammond Encryption Directive," I said. "Its just your standard protocol."

He let that sit for a second. Then said

"Simon, I'd like to revisit the proposal our division submitted last quarter. The one regarding collaborative licensing of the genome engineering platform."

The air in the room changed.

Claire stopped tapping her tablet.

One of the board members, Helena Yi, shifted slightly in her chair while another muted themselves.

Charles continued. "Simon, we believe it's time the company embraces a decentralized research structure. One not exclusively tied to a single island or a single vision."

I tilted my head. "And who would this 'decentralized structure' report to?"

"To the Board, of course, under a formal trust. We've already been approached by institutions in Zurich, Kyoto, and Tel Aviv. They're eager to contribute to your great cause and Imagine what we could achieve, if we stopped treating our progress like it belonged behind a highly secure vault."

"Charles," I said smoothly, "you don't hand out nuclear codes just because someone says they'll use them responsibly and what we're managing here isn't just data, it goes further than that, I am talking about consequences. The kind that tends to escape cages if you misplace a decimal."

"Respectfully," Charles said without hesitation, "you're blurring the lines between control and wisdom, Simon. Science isn't some personal decree, it doesn't bow to a single individual."

I leaned in and said pointing towards myself. "And yet, here we are. It bows to this one."

He blinked once.

"Simon—"

"No, listen carefully," I said. "What we've built here isn't just a miracle of biology. It's a loaded weapon dressed up as a tourist attraction. The only reason it's still under control is because every variable, every step, and every person, is part of a tightly woven system that I made."

I let the silence stretch.

"You move one piece… and the whole balance shifts, and balance is the only thing keeping these animals from teaching us humility."

Charles didn't reply. His face, smooth as marble, it gave nothing away.

It was Helena who finally unmuted.

"We understand the risks," she said. "But Charles is right about one thing, we need a plan for long-term stewardship. If something were to happen to the island… or to you."

She didn't say it like a threat.

But I heard it like one.

I smiled.

"Don't trouble yourself, dear. My legacy doesn't require your backup."

I watched the tension flicker on half a dozen faces. Some were convinced, while others were still calculating.

Then Charles exhaled softly, almost like he'd conceded.

"Very well," he said, sitting back. "We'll revisit the proposal at the next review. Perhaps by then we'll all have… clarity."

The meeting ended six minutes early.

But I didn't leave yet, cause I had this bad feeling, and thats when it happened.

Because as the call dropped, my screen pinged with an automated system alert.

"UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS REQUEST – PROJECT ARCHIVE 'GENESIS.112'

"Source IP: Zurich subnet (Board-Authorized Node)

Request Flagged by Wu Protocol – LOCKED

I stared at it for a moment.

Then slowly leaned back in my chair.

Claire glanced at me. "Something wrong?"

"Not yet," I said, a slight, knowing smile playing on my lips. "But if Charles does not stop I might send him on a very long holiday."

Two Weeks Later – Mix Hatchery Perimeter, Isla Nublar

Marin stood ankle-deep in the reed grass, water lapping gently against her boots, eyes locked on the soft rise of a young Gallimimus's ribcage, a pale, skeletal thing, curled into itself beneath a patch of mottled sun.

It wasn't breathing.

She didn't move, just stood there silently.

Around her, the sand was peppered with trails, shallow claw marks where tiny feet once danced, now half-erased by wind and the slow drag of poisoned current.

A gentle whimper broke behind her.

Claire had dropped to her knees by the shallows, sleeves rolled up, cradling a sick juvenile Parasaurolophus in her lap.

Its eyes fluttered, and it was Breathing shallow, with Yellowing saliva pooled beneath its jaw.

"Come on," Claire whispered, brushing the slick skin gently. "Just hold on, Please, just hold on…for a little, it will get better I promise"

The para raised its head towards her as if trying, after which it gave a shudder, from pain, and then went still.

Claire let out a sharp, wounded sound.

She folded over the animal instinctively, protectively, like a mother shielding a child from a storm. But the storm had already passed, and it had taken too many with it.

Marin finally moved.

She crouched near the still Gallimimus and closed its eyes with a gloved hand. "That's four today," she murmured, voice flat. "The shallow feeders are dying first, It starts with fatigue and then gut lining failure which then leads to sepsis."

Claire didn't answer.

The wind caught the hem of her jacket. She stayed there, wrapped around the dead para, shoulders shaking, but no tears came.

Not anymore.

She had wept for the first two.

She had screamed for the third. Now there was just… this. The silence of grief too wide for words.

Marin turned her face toward the water.

The shallow tributary that once glittered with life had turned cloudy.

The reeds at the edge had begun to rot.

Fish floated belly-up in the slower back channels, their eyes filmed over with a white haze.

"This place was supposed to be sacred," Marin said quietly. "A haven, We tested every sample before we released these juveniles. Every batch of soil, every droplet of water, we combed through like surgeons."

Claire swallowed. Her voice came hoarse.

"I let them out here… because it was the safest place on the island."

"And someone turned it into a grave."

Marin's jaw clenched, hands balled at her sides.

She blinked hard and stood.

"All of us built this wetland with our bare hands," she said. "I waded through swamp and thorns for weeks, brought in dragonflies and frogs by the dozen to rebuild the insect cycle.

Claire, in private I named every one of those baby Gallis myself."

Claire finally looked up.

Her face was hollow.

She brushed hair from her eyes, smearing a faint line of mud across her cheek.

"We're going to fix it," she said.

"How?"

"We will find the source and root it out, every pipe, every valve, if required we will treat the water, we isolate the sick, and we burn every trace of it out of this system."

"And the ones already dying?" Marin asked, voice breaking. "What do we do for them, Claire? Apologize?"

Claire shook her head slowly. "No, we try our best to save them and we make damn sure it never happens again."

Marin turned away, wiping her face.

Behind them, the sun began to lower behind the mountains.

Claire rose from the mud. Her voice steadied.

"Marin."

She turned back.

"They didn't die in vain, not one of them. Whoever did this, whoever let this happen, they don't understand what they just touched."

Marin nodded slowly, tears streaking clean paths down her dusty cheeks.

And as night fell across Isla Nublar, the two women stood side by side in the dying light, grieving not just for the lives lost, but for the innocence shattered.

The jungle went quiet.

Fortunately, the hatchery dinosaurs were kept separate from those in the main enclosures, so they weren't affected as, we had isolated the waterways fearing cross contamination.

After several test we found the issue, there was Something wrong with the water, some kind of algae was introduced.

I had the tanks flushed and also Monitored filtration reports. That's when we found the source.

The new modules installed in filtration systems weren't filters. They were slow-release nutrient pods , loaded with microalgae and gene-edited bacteria optimized to bloom in warm, shallow waters.

A formula proprietary to Charles's fish farms. Designed to feed his tilapia, not dinosaurs.

And in our ecosystem? It was poison.

This wasn't negligence. This was a calculated microbial invasion.

And just when the board started to panic, whispering questions, organizing emergency meetings, Charles reached out.

Zoom Call – Board Emergency Session (Private Line, Zurich Node)

Charles's face flickered onto the screen with manufactured urgency.

"I just want to help, Simon. I've been watching this unfold, and frankly… you're in trouble. Half the board is ready to invoke Article Nine, remove you from day-to-day operations."

I leaned back, saying nothing, while tetting him think he got me in his trap.

"You need a solution," he continued. "You need to isolate the ecosystem, neutralize the algae. I can assist, I have teams that deal with this sort of outbreak all the time. My labs can engineer a suppressor."

He smiled.

"But if I'm going to hand over my proprietary tech... I need something in return."

He paused, letting it hang.

"I need access to your gene banks. Just a sample of the hybrid sequencing tools you used for the raptors, That's all."

There it was, the sick play.

Make the dinosaurs sick, save the park, and walk away with the crown jewel.

He'd made a biological hostage situation.

I met his gaze. "I will think about it and get back to you," I said calmly and cut the call.

"Whats the status on the affected hatchery Dinos, Claire?" I asked

"Most of the dinos were saved and are being treated right now, but we lost 2 baby gallimimus and 2 Paras" she replied.

I didn't say anything, but inside, a slow, bitter anger began to build, swirling into a quiet rage.

"You've planted invasive species inside my Jurassic World, Charles," I said. "And tried to leverage extinction into a contract, so now don't blame me for what I am about to do."

3 weeks Later

We stood around a triple-sealed tank in Lab 7, the Deep Water Genomics Wing.

It wasn't even on the official map of the Masrani compound.

Only I, Dr. Wu, and two researchers with security clearances rivaling nuclear staff had access here.

Inside the tank swam the result of 3 weeks of intense splicing, simulation, and synthetic conditioning.

Dr. Wu tapped the glass once, quietly.

"They're ready," he said. "Your bio-programmed Trojan horses."

I leaned closer. The fish looked… normal, Tilapia, Dull silver, gently fluttering, their gills working rhythmically, but I knew better. Their insides held a secret, centuries older than mankind.

Wu brought up the holoscreen, displaying a live genetic diagram. "We've named them Oreochromis Revocatus, or Common name, well.... there is no common name yet, maybe we can call it little ghost fish."

I smiled. "Tell me everything."

Wu clicked into the breakdown. "We've embedded ancient regulatory genes sourced from our earlier raptor sequences, African Clawed Frog and Oriental Fruit Fly. We did not have any physical traits manifest in them, so that means no teeth, no aggression, but we did introduce the reproductive signaling genes, which are normally dormant in reptiles, but here… we've modified them."

He highlighted a sequence glowing green.

"These strands force the fish to breed aggressively for three generations. Each generation matures in roughly 11 days in optimal aquaculture conditions. But we've fused the third-gen zygotes with a self-terminating RNA virus, a trigger built into their mitochondrial inheritance. In short…"

"They all die after three generations," I said softly.

"Precisely," Wu nodded. "And since it's mitochondrial, only female lines carry it forward. No males can perpetuate it. We even locked their digestion to a specific calcium isotope that only exists in controlled feedstocks. Once they enter uncontrolled water sources, the third generation is metabolically doomed."

I let that sink in.

"What about safeguards?"

"Five layers," Wu replied crisply. "Genetic kill switch, metabolic dependency, no vertical gene escape, sterile fourth-gen design, and age-triggered hormone collapse. These things are smarter than a virus and safer than a GMO tomato."

"Lawsuit and public exposure risk, that connects it to us?"

"Impossible to prove in court," he said. "They look identical to regular tilapia in normal conditions. No horns, no glowing eyes, nothing cinematic.

But they outcompete normal tilapia in confined farm ecosystems, faster metabolism, hyper-spawning response, and subtle chemical imprinting that draws other fish to mate with them. Charles's tanks will become contaminated within a week."

"and then everything will collapse," I added. "5 weeks later."