Alex can hear shouting off in the near distance. The team! Were they in trouble? He runs around the brush and sees Mark and the others in the clear area about two hundred feet away. They have their backs to him and are all pulling and shouting. Exhausted, Alex takes a breath and slow trots over to the group.
As he approaches them, they are intent on pulling the line. They don’t even hear his footsteps. The line draws tauntly and, as a group, they stagger forward. Yelling and screaming they slide to a halt as the team pulls back harder than before. Janet is at the back of the group and with a massive tug from the line her grip slips and she flies back into Alex. Reflex commands and his hands grab her shoulder, ‘Can I help? What …’
The sharp claws of terror fill Janet and she screams, kicking backwards at Alex and claws her way up Mark’s back knocking him to the ground. Alex can see the utter panic in her eyes as she turns to look at him. Her eyes are wide in fright. He knows he will regret it but he can’t keep from laughing. He laughs so hard it hurts. Alex falls to the ground in a spasm of laughter and released tension.
Mark by this time realized what happened. ‘Christ alive, Alex! Are you trying to kill us all right here and now? My God, what happened to you?’
‘What’s on the other end of this rope?’ Dieter shouts as he tries to hold onto the tugging rope with Dan.
Tears fill his eyes but Alex rises heroically and manages to sputter, ‘Oh, I think you caught yourselves a blackbird. God but it hurts to laugh!’
* * * * *
The sun sets early on the floor of the valley. Blood red, high wisps of cirrus clouds reflect the long rays of the setting star to contrast a tapestry of deep blues and pinks streaming magnificence across the sky. Bright sunlight on the highest peaks flash into soft golden light against the deep blue of the coming eastern night. Pastel colors flow across the firmament, strangely following the cut of the valley in a litany of light that could never be duplicated by the artist’s brush.
The first of the sweet, cool evening breezes flows from the high snowless peaks. Long shadows in the valley feed the evening songs that echo from the high cliffs and call in a symphony never before heard by human ears.
The soft rapids of the river carry a background accompaniment to the small birds who gather by the thousands to flutter and roost in both familiar and strange trees. Others run along the cliffs playing tag; singing their praise to the setting sun and the glory of life. Many of the calls carry a strange, almost familiar song. Others ring sweetly, strong and low with crescendos that climb to meet the higher notes of their smaller cousins. These are the sweet melodies of strangers to the human experience. They rise from the groups that gather down in the valley. Heads held high, the sounds leave their throats to praise the coming of the night and the passing of another day.
In small groups, they seem to flow along the valley floor to merge and then part with others of their kind. They graze as they sing, pulling at bush, fern, flower and tree. The valley fills with their excitement and life, echoing back the evening song like the response of a living being. Then, slowly with the passing of the sun, they gather together and fade into the sweet grays and blacks of the early night. These are the sounds, the songs and the life-force that would soon end in a cataclysmic event. Never again would their litany rise to the heavens to praise the daily passing of the star. Leaving behind the pale song of diminished ancestors for future generations of other species.
The team is tired after a long, hot day of work. Alex walks back to the others sitting before the Hunter. He ruffles his hair with the towel, trying to dry it in the balmy breezes of the early evening. Sweet aroma fills his nose and he notices that coffee and tea sit in pots on a campfire even though they could have been brought out, hot from the galley of the vehicle.
‘Sorry if I took too long cleaning up at the river Dieter.’ Alex finally broke the silence as he walked. It was dark in the valley but some light still fired the high peaks and playfully lingered in the thin clouds high above. ‘I’ve seen many a sunset but nothing quite like that. I just couldn’t bring myself to come rushing back.’
‘Did you hear me complain?’ Dieter replies in a voice hushed by his reverence for the songs slowly fading. ‘I never expected them to sing like that.’
‘Yeah, I could move up here right now. Forget about the job and the retirement. Live off the land.’ Alex found it hard to walk and still keep his eyes to the sky as the first bright stars of the evening slowly asserted their dominance over the fading day.
‘Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.’ Dieter shoulders his rifle and quickens his pace over to grab two cups from the table. ‘Let’s sit down over there by Dan and the others. He said he wanted to talk to you after you had a chance to wash off all of that crud.’
David Pope stopped his conversation with Mark and looked up at the approaching men. ‘Well, the Tunnel Rat appears. Welcome the hero!’
Alex was puzzled. ‘Are you talking to me Mr. Pope? I didn’t see anything that even looked like a rat.’
‘Yes and No.’ Dave replied. ‘I thought you were the military type. I guess you never heard of the “Tunnel Rats”. It seems you’re not the first of our breed to be foolhardy, and brave enough to crawl down into an enemy held tunnel complex. Way back in the mid 20th century there was a minor conflict that involved our United States. It took place over in an Asian country then called Viet Nam. The marines in that conflict were confronted by guerrilla fighters who lived, hid and fought from a vast complex of underground tunnels. The area, like here, is very dense and filled with jungle growth so it was impossible to clear out these tunnels except by the most primitive of means. A few brave men who crawled down into small tunnels with nothing more than a flashlight, a pistol and a combat knife. Look it up on your Hive Tab. In any case, it was most definitely a compliment. You can count yourself among the best and the bravest.’
Janet wasn’t quite as pleased. ‘I owe you one. You scared three years off my lifeline. God! I never saw anything so frightening! You were covered with feathers, blood and mud from head to toe. I shudder just thinking about your white teeth grinning at me from beneath all that. But, I am glad to see you back. We were really scared there for a while. I don’t want you to ever do that again!’
‘Good job Alex.’ Mark also gave out a rare compliment. ‘I’ve been reviewing the download from your Hive Tab recording. These tunnels support quite a mixed community of wildlife. I’m amazed to see the Hypes and blackbirds sharing common tunnels. You didn’t mention it but your recordings also show several other smaller species of dinosaur using the tunnels. By the way, have you ever seen a blackbird attacking a Hype?’
‘No, I haven’t.’ Janet replied. ‘But the sharing of living space is not too uncommon in my naturalist readings. Dave, you’re the expert.’
‘I’d say we have a symbiosis of sorts here.’ David replied. ‘You’re right, it’s not all that unusual in nature. The question we need to answer is just how much effort are we willing to put into extracting these blackbirds from the tunnels? Also, do we want to uproot the entire community doing it? It could have unforeseen repercussions later.’
‘You know, I’ve only seen the blackbirds swarm and attack when we presented a threat. We know they definitely don’t like smoke. We know they eat meat. Just look at their teeth, made for slicing. Not at all like the Hypes whom we know eat meat in spit of the fact that I also saw them munching on the shrubs at sunset right next to the herbivores. This symbiosis is the last thing I would have expected.’ Dieter said as he poured a second cup of coffee.
‘It’s not that unusual. We have found fossilized theropod stomachs with plant remains in them. So Hypes eating herbs is not all that farfetched.’ Janet said.
Mark stood and threw the last of his mug into the bushes. ‘Ok, I want to think on it for a while but I’m leaning toward just proceeding with the fence building. Let’s keep the perimeter rather tight, just enough so we can dig out the ore. It’ll mean we’ll have to g
o around armed but if we make enough noise the worst of the bad-guys will probably leave us alone.’
‘I still want strong barricades at both ends of the valley. I don’t want anything big coming in to surprise us. We’ll clear the top shrubs so we have a clear killing field around our area and just start into the dig. Any objections to that Dan?’
‘No sir. I’ll want to keep one or two on watch in the work intensive areas in addition to the automatics though. It’ll mean a few extra men but it’ll save us time.’ Dan replied. ‘In the mean time I’m hitting the sack. Alex, why don’t you simply sleep in tomorrow? You’ve earned it.’
Dan opened the general channel. ‘Good night gang. I don’t want to see anyone sleeping outside tonight and no one sits outside alone. Keep your weapons by your side. See you tomorrow at first light.’
The light of the fire masked the black of the night. Alex and Dieter took a short walk back to the outside latrine. The trail seemed to go a little slower than normal. Alex looked up to watch the jeweled lights in the sky. ‘You know Dieter, there’s an awful lot of meteorites in the night sky. I think there must be a lot more junk up there than in our time. Also, have you really looked up at the Milky Way? It’s different. There seems to be fewer stars around it but the band of light is brighter, harder and clearer than I recall.’
‘That’s gotta be your imagination. The sky’s probably clearer around here than at home. Less light pollution.’ Dieter replied as he buttoned his pants. ‘Funny though. I thought the air would have more debris in it. Volcanic activity is a lot higher now than in our time so there should be a lot of dust in the sky. This is clear though. Come on. I’m beat.’
References
1. E. Peñalver, D. A. Grimaldi, X. Delclòs, “ Early Cretaceous Spider Web with Its Prey”, Science 23 June 2006, Vol. 312 no. 5781 p. 1761, DOI: 10.1126/science.1126628
2. J. B. Bassingthwaighte, “Toward Modeling the Human Physionome”, Adv Exp Med Biol. Author manuscript; available in PMC 2010 May 24. Published in final edited form as: Adv Exp Med Biol. 1995; 382: 331–339.
3. Gold, Lead, Zinc and Silver deposits in Cretaceous Strata, Texas almanac and state industrial guide, Belo & Co., ©1904-1951.pp161-165
4. Mark Renz, “Megladon: Hunting the Hunter” , PaleoPress ISBN 0-97419477-0-8
5. J. Wendler, “External forcing of the geomagnetic field? Implications for the cosmic ray flux—climate variability”, Journal of Atmospheric and Solar-Terrestrial Physics 66 (2004) 1195 – 1203 (Climate change and magnetic pole reversals as influenced by the position of the solar system in the galactic arm.) http://tornado.sfsu.edu/geosciences/classes/gm700/PDF_Files/DaveGgeomag.pdf
6. M. D'emic, , J. Wilson, R. Thompson, The end of the cretaceous sauropod dinosaur hiatus in North America, GSA Denver Annual Meeting (November 2010)
7. M. Taylor, M. Wedel, D Naish, “Head and neck posture in sauropod dinosaurs inferred from extant animals”, Acta Palaeontologica Polonica 54 (2): 213–220. DOI: 10.4202/app.2009.0007 (Sauropods held neck erect like rabbits).
Human Physionome Modeling
Statistical process control (SPC) was pioneered by Walter Shewhart in the early 1920s using control charts to monitor the trends in measured process parameters. Extensive statistical controls with statistical probability modeling in manufacturing were first formally employed by Doctor Demming Lewis during reconstruction of the Japanese post World War II industry. This led to a very competitive Japanese electronics industry starting in the 1960s. SPC techniques assume you have a very large sample size that behaves in a known manner and distribution. It fundamentally assumes that normal variations from the process are random and unpredictable. You don’t have to really understand the process and it’s interactions to control it using SPC you simply have to measure the results. This works well if you do not have an underlying systematic process contributing to the errors in manufacturing but it is still an approximation of the anticipated results.
Any large, complex process appears to be random unless you understand the physics behind it. Physics is the mathematical language of the universe. This realization is the fundamental basis for advanced process control in modern manufacturing. If you really understand the physics then you can create a mathematical model of it and thereafter predict the response of a process for any set of input variables. This means you can control the process with much greater accuracy than SPC.
The current state of our medical science is based on statistical analysis of drug and treatment response. The Human Physionome models do not currently exist but the industry is slowly moving in that direction. There is a good reference to some of that work cited in this section. Unfortunately, the development of these models is highly influenced by current pharmaceutical research methods and government regulations that slow the ability of the field to become an exact science.
Until we discover a mathematical model of the functions of each human organism and predict its response to any external or internal stimulae or serum, we do not really understand medicine and the field is not truly a modern science. Fortunately work is progressing in this area. To quote from the abstract of Doctor Bassingthwaighte’s paper:
“The physionome is the description of the physiological dynamics of the normal intact organism. The march of science brings us now into the era where integration of the various facets of the knowledge of biology and medicine has become a major issue. Modeling is a vehicle for the combining of information from molecular biology, biophysics, and medical biology, but must be combined with strategies for databasing the raw data with greater efficiency than is currently possible. The lessons from the genome project can be applied to the next level major projects, the morphonome and the physionome, the objective being to put integrated forms of the data into the hands of physicians and medical scientists.”
Chapter 8: Expedition
“The poetry of the Earth is never dead;
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s”
John Keats – On the Grasshopper and Cricket
Suzy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the scrub. She stood there without moving a muscle. He wondered why. There must be something wrong. She doesn’t act this way, but he wanted one of them! He wanted to catch it!
There were four of them. They had almost collided with Suzy and him as they half ran and half glided across the fern edged trail. As he watched, two of them tackled a third and soon all four were tumbling across the clearing not ten feet away from where Suzy and he hid. They whistled, screeched, hissed and growled. He noticed they were just his size; well, maybe a little shorter. Ok, maybe Suzy wouldn’t move but he knew what to do.
With a cry that was half laugh and half feigned anger, he ran from the bushes and leaped onto the top of the struggling foursome. At first, they were stunned and two rolled to the side with a squeal. He had landed squarely on top of the other two knocking the air from their lungs. They froze in surprise. His mouth opened and white teeth glistened in the shaft of bright sunlight that came through the ginkgo tree over their heads. He saw the look of surprise on their faces and shouted, ‘Hi! I’m Gabe! Can I wrestle too?’
They were so stunned by seven year old Gabriel Zavtek’s sudden appearance they didn’t notice the young Hype. She slipped from her low cover, silently fluttering off from the bushes and down the trail that led to the peninsula. Gabe wondered why she was running away. It didn’t matter, he wanted to wrestle!
The two that he had tackled squirmed out from beneath Gabe and stood. They smelled him. His smell was odd.
Gabe stood up. Yes! He was bigger than they were. One stood off to the side and a small growling sound came from her throat. Gabe ignored her. Another was behind him, running its nose up and down his back and picking at the loose ends of his shorts with its small hands. Gabe turned, shoved him back and laughed. The other lung
ed at him, grabbing his arm in its mouth and pulled at the tops of his pants. Gabe grappled onto its neck and they tumbled to the ground. They rolled, and tumbled into the bushes. This was Gabe’s style of playing! He couldn’t get Suzy to wrestle this good. They rolled and tumbled over and over again. Laughter mixed with screeches, whistles and warbles. Then after a bit, they stopped and all five just lay there, exhausted. Gabe put his arms around two of them when they laid their heads on his stomach and they slept the bliss of the innocent.
Gabe woke up with a start; one of them was pulling on his shirt. ‘Hey, cut it out.’ He said as he got up. All four of them were up now and they began to walk down the trail. Gabe followed them to the edge of the cliff. The clean fresh breeze blew up from the white crested waves of the blue ocean below them. They whistled and crowed as they ran under the open sky, across the easy ground. The sea breeze was stronger here and Gabe dearly wanted to have arms like theirs. They spread their arms wide in the wind. The breeze blew through their downy, soft brown feathers and lightly lifted them. The game soon turned into tag. ‘Hey, no fair!’ Gabe shouted. ‘You guys are ganging up on me and I can’t glide like that!’
They soon tired of the game and began nibbling at some of the low flowers. Gabe tried some. They were ok. Nothing to get excited about. He was getting bored so he picked up a rock and threw it over the cliff. The others stopped to watch. Well, they didn’t seem interested in throwing rocks and he was getting tired of it too. Besides, there weren’t any of those birds around here to throw them at.
They walked back into the shade of the high forest. They chased grasshoppers, lizards, crickets and other things he had never seen before. ‘Yech!’ he said as he watched them. ‘I’m not eating any crickets.’
He followed them inland playing, running and sometimes tripping each other until, below a grove of trees, Gabriel saw an odd thing. It was a dish-shaped mound of ground lined with soft feathers. Smooth as it was, he could have easily laid down in it, if it wasn’t for all the cracked shells. Ahead, inside the dense grove, he saw a few more of the ovals. The nearest had a whole bunch of broken eggs with two unbroken shells in it. His eyes grew accustomed to the light and a chill ran up his back. He sensed no menace but it was bigger than his friends were.
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