Speaking of Dinosaurs

by Philip E. High

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Space Opera

Synopsis

Beyond Evolution. A certain gifted engineer accepted the Theory of Evolution until he wandered by chance into a museum. In that museum was the skeleton of a dinosaur, and the skeleton got him thinking and enquiring, with terrifying results. Attempts are made on his life and then, in a horrifying time-shift, he finds himself naked and unarmed in the distant past, facing one of the very creatures which had aroused his interest - a dinosaur!

Release date: September 29, 2011

Publisher: Gateway

Print pages: 196

Sample

THE Aegid came whispering through the trees as silent and as invisible as a breath of wind. A few brown autumn leaves fell in its wake but that was all.

It passed over the long grass of Felton’s Meadow and rose slightly to clear the unkempt hedge of Darvin House.

Darvin House had been in ruin for years, roofs sagging, windows criss-crossed with rough boards. No one went there, even the children from the village avoided it. The local people secretly believed it was haunted.

It was now—the Aegid had entered through a hole in the roof.

Once in a dark rear room, it permitted itself to become visible. It was ovoid, about the size of a football and lit the dank, mildewed room with a curious orange-coloured radiance.

The Aegid was a highly advanced life-form, so advanced that the intelligences of Earth were, relatively speaking, amoeba by comparison.

The Aegid, representing a group of highly advanced cultures, was here on a mission. It was, in effect, law, judge, jury and prosecution all rolled into one. It was here to ensure that one of the mightiest explosions in the history of reasoning intelligence really took place.

Research had been completed, the evidence concluded and a detonator located.

The Aegid was, however, bound by strict rules—based upon the ethical principles of the cultures involved. It was not permitted to interfere directly. It could manipulate but not coerce and it must remain concealed until—

It had taken up residence close to the point of explosion where it could keep a watchful eye on the detonator. There were others but this one was likely to be the most effective. Once operative, it could start a chain reaction which nothing could stop.

The Aegid had work to do before it began its mission and this it began immediately by constructing a body about itself—a human body. It did this by its prodigious mental power, automatically. By the same process, it began work on the house.

Within an hour, the roof was repaired, the windows replaced, the dank walls dried and re-papered.

The Aegid created furniture from the atomic structure of the surrounding atmosphere, laid wire to the distant mains, connected the water supply.

Three miles away in the village, Alf Teal was removing his coat preparatory to going to bed. Teal was nearing seventy but still healthy and active. He was a handyman and gardener and did a lot of jobs round and about the village.

“Don’t forget Mr. Green’s garden tomorrow,” his wife reminded him.

Teal sighed. “I’ve been going up to Darvin House for the past fourteen year doing the garden, not likely to forget now.”

He really thought he had. He thought he “remembered” Mr. Green arriving. Nice old gent, bald pate, mild blue eyes behind rimless glasses, always sucking that stinkin’ old Meerschaum pipe.

Teal “remembered” the neat lawns, the flower beds, the trimmed hedges.

Darvin House had neat lawns, flower beds and trimmed hedges now but Teal had never seen nor tended them but he thought he had.

The milkman thought he had delivered the milk, the postman the letters. Mr. Green was a local, he had lived up at Darvin House for fourteen years and everyone would swear to the fact.

The Aegid had created memories of itself in local minds but it had not stopped there. It had created a “permanent mental response imprint” in case of investigation. Authorities would “see” his driving licence, bank book, certificate of birth and any document the situation demanded. None of these things had material reality but the Aegid caused them to exist in the mind.

The alien could well have existed behind a complete illusion had it chosen to do so. It was well aware, however, that it was quite possible that something would come along capable of piercing a major illusion. The house and garden, the body it now wore were real. An experienced investigator was not likely to look further.

Darvin House stood on a hill and looked down at a vista of pleasant rural meadowland.

A mile away a small stream—known rather pretentiously to the locals as Comb River—wound and looped its way across the meadows.

Within one of the “loops” a small but highly modern and expensive bungalow had been built. The bungalow had two garages, a large airy work room which stood well to the back and a long drive connecting the property to the minor road half a mile distant.

The bungalow was usually occupied by two men— business partners and friends—both of whom were now on vacation.

Normally, regularly at nine o’clock, a wheezing taxi brought an elderly woman from the village to the bungalow.

The Aegid knew that this was Mrs. Woolidge whose business it was to cook and house keep for the two men. The alien was not interested in Mrs. Woolidge, it was interested in one of the men—David Standing.

David Standing was the detonator.

Standing was not impressive. A rotund little man of thirty-two who, despite a lively animation, looked closer to fifty.

The mousey hair was receding from the forehead and there was a spreading bald patch on top. His face was round and undistinguished. The eyes a mild and enquiring blue.

Perhaps his appearance was due to illness. He suffered from frequent bronchitis, had an incipient ulcer and his heart had been suspect on several occasions. He had frequently suffered inexplicable black-outs and his nights were often the subject to dreams of dreadful and overwhelming terror.

By profession Standing was an engineer—without the necessary qualifications. He had similar gifts and a similar lack of official endorsement in electronics. Despite this, however, at the age of twenty-five, he was making more than top men in both professions.

Standing had an inventive genius and knew the patent laws backwards.

He had never invented anything earth-shaking but his gimmicks filled countless kitchens, added to the efficiency of the internal combustion engine and, in one case, helped the transit of a lunar flight.

He now had sufficient wealth to live in luxury for the rest of his life but his inventive mind wouldn’t let him.

At the moment, although ostensibly on vacation, he was in town on business.

He glanced at his watch. A couple of hours to kill, what could he do? He was only a ten minute taxi ride from the airport.

He glanced about him and saw on the opposite side of the road a large grey building. A museum! Hell, he hadn’t been round one of those since he was a kid— why not?

A long file of children were passing before him, obviously a school party but what did it matter, he could always choose quieter sections.

Standing crossed the road, mounted the grey stone steps and passed inside.

Fortunately, he was blissfully unaware that, figuratively speaking, he was a naked flame walking into a powder factory.

Others, however, were frighteningly aware of the danger.

“He’s gone into the museum!”

“Into the museum! What’s the matter with the psycho-decision instrument? It should have provided a strong alternative. In short, changed his mind for him.

“I reported five months ago that this instrument was becoming less and less effective.”

“Get the curators to get him out of there fast.”

“I’ve given the instructions but they have problems. The place is packed—tourists and school children.”

“Which section is he in?”

“The wrong one.”

“Oh God, the Directors will have our hides.”

“I could give orders, have him—”

“No! I’ve told you before, Bayner, we can’t kill him yet. It’s orders from the top. We have to find out why ‘normal’ methods failed. His heart refused to fold up, the dreams failed to crack him and his vital organs keep healing themselves.”

“He’s Dominant Strain. We should put a bullet between his eyes.”

“The Directors say no. They are well aware of the Dominant Strain characteristics. In any case, they’ve dealt with this category many, many times before.”

“Then why didn’t he die from ‘natural’ causes?”

“I am in no position to question a decision of the Directors, neither are you—hope everything is under control with the woman.”

“Oh, yes, there fate has been kind. Some wholly natural glandular disbalance. She can’t move. Arrangements have been made to move her to a clinic where, in due course, Warwick will dispose of her—”

He stopped, the other was pale.

“Something the matter?”

“Yes—a message from the Directors. They know and they are not happy.”

The other shivered. When the directors were not happy, everyone suffered. He did not bother to ask the source of the information. He received mental instructions himself.

He said: “Any instructions?”

“Yes. They say its too late to do anything now. The curators have been called off. They propose mounting a maximum show for him. If this fails, we may dispose of him in any way we see fit.

“He couldn’t survive a maximum show could he—?”

* * *

Standing had passed through two rooms of stuffed birds and had now arrived at a large room dominated by an enormous skeleton.

The skeleton was that of a long dead reptile which had walked the Earth in the far-distant past.

He stopped to read the inscription:

DIPLODOCUS(Dinosaur)

Plant-eating Reptile of the Jurassic Period

Standing was about to pass on but took one final glance at the skeleton before he moved on.

He stopped.

A dedicated scientist had obviously put the fossilised bones together but, although mentally acknowledging the effort Standing was more intrigued as an engineer.

Here was a massive device which, technically, must have required an ingenious arrangement of stress and counter-stress not only to move but to balance.

The subject began to intrigue him, and, on the way to the airport, he bought several books on the subject.

He read them avidly on the journey and was still reading the following day.

Technically he was on a holiday and his partner, Wilkin, was whooping it up in some hot climate or other. He would not be back for a week.

Standing decided that a little investigation and, perhaps, some practical experimentation would help to pass the time—

* * *

Wilkin returned from his holiday without regrets, the last few days had been plagued with inexplicable twinges of unease. He’d had the feeling that he ought to be back, that in some way Standing needed him. It was quite irrational of course, his partner was fully capable of taking care of himself.

Wilkin put his toe down coming back. He liked large and powerful cars and he kept the needle on the “hundred” mark on the straights.

Wilkin was the physical opposite of Standing. He was tall, lean, fair and blue-eyed. On the other hand, he had no inventive genius whatever. His ability both in engineering and electronics, however, was extreme. Further, there was an empathic understanding between the two men and Wilkin had an intuitive understanding of the other’s needs.

If Standing said: “Look, I want a compact circuit to fit in here.” Wilkin always understood exactly what he wanted without tedious qualifications or numerous questions.

Standing had made him a full partner within a year and the two men had become firm friends.

As Wilkin reached the end of the drive, Standing came out to meet him.

“There’s a hot meal laid on. After which, I have something to show you.”

“I guessed—you have that look.” Wilkin opened the boot and began to remove suitcases. “Just run this stuff into my room—is Mrs. Woolidge still around?”

“No, she went home half an hour ago.”

“Thank God for that, she always looks so damn disapproving when I come back from a holiday.”

“You’re only postponing the inevitable, she’ll look disapproving tomorrow.”

“Why should she?”

“She takes care of our washing—remember? Your collars are always smeared with lipstick and your pyjamas reek of perfume.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“She confides in me periodically. She thinks I should ‘speak’ to you about it and couldn’t I introduce you to some nice girl.”

Wilkin said: “Oh God!” and went into the bungalow.

An hour later, in the workroom, he looked at the knee-high object Standing had constructed and scowled.

“What the hell is that horrible looking thing?”

Standing smiled faintly. “For the benefit of the uneducated—Tyrannosaurus Rex. It was a carnivorous reptile which was lord of the Earth in the Jurassic period, approximately a hundred and fifty million years ago.”

“Thanks for the information. What had you in mind— marketing that thing as a toy for the very young?”

Standing laughed. “Hardly. No, you may say I have acquired a hobby.”

Wilkin frowned. “Well, I know—thanks to you—we are wallowing in profit and can, therefore, indulge ourselve. . .