I remembered to take a breath. ‘And we can charge, sir. The public, academics, educational establishments, theatres, they’ll all pay to see what we produce. It will be accurate, informative, educational, and entertaining. They’ll just never know how accurate, informative etc. I think we’ll never have a better opportunity than now. Everyone loves dinosaurs. With your permission, I would like to take it with me to Thirsk and see what their reaction is. If they like it they can contribute to the costs of future films and take a cut. If they don’t want to then we keep it all for ourselves. We offer it as a loss leader. If we could regularly bring them material of this calibre, sir, they might change their minds about wanting a permanent presence here, or God forbid, actually wanting a representative along on each assignment. We tell them there’s no need for them to risk life and limb. We can do that and they could reap the benefits.
‘And, on a more personal note, the eyes of the world are fixed on Mars at the moment, sir. Everywhere I look the arts are being shunted aside for technology. It’s not necessarily a bad thing but maybe in some small way this could redress the balance a little. History – the new sex. Sir.’
He stood looking out of the window, face quite expressionless. No clues there. I sat quietly and let the silence gather. I’d made my point; there was no use boring on. I wasn’t Barclay.
He turned back into the room and picked up his pen again. ‘Take it to Thirsk. See how they react. I’ll talk to the Chancellor, tell her what to expect so she can put the word around and make sure you have an audience worthy of the occasion. We’ll see how it goes, shall we?’
Barclay sent for me at 1600 to discuss the holo. The Chief had sent her the material and I’d given her a list of the highlights I wanted included, but left the rest to her. Half of me looked forward to seeing what she had done; half of me didn’t want to go out and mix with people just yet and half of me (presumably the half that can’t add up) didn’t want to see her because I knew she would blame me for Sussman.
As it turned out, she was reasonably OK. The Chief attended in his role as buffer zone and this helped. She showed me what they’d put together so far. She’d changed two of my suggestions (for the better) and added some new ideas. I was pleased.
‘Only two things, Izzie,’ I said. She bridled immediately. ‘Can you make sure our logo and copyright appear on the title page? This is going to be big and I’m sure the Boss will want to make sure St Mary’s is shown somewhere. Otherwise Thirsk will be all over it.’
She nodded. ‘And the second thing?’
‘The dedication to Sussman.’ She started to speak. I cut across her. ‘Put it at the beginning. This is so good they’ll be in no fit state to notice at the end, so put it up first, while they’re all still able to pay attention.’
I looked at the Chief. ‘His idea and his work. He should get the credit.’
I got one of his full-on smiles. The crinkly-eyed one. It made me feel better and it pissed Barclay off no end, so no downside there, then.
‘Chief, before we show it at Thirsk, I thought we could give it its world premiere here in Hawking tomorrow. Let everyone at St Mary’s get to see it. After all, everyone contributed. If the Boss agrees, of course. ‘
‘I’ll talk to him. I can’t see a problem.’
‘Oh, and Izzie?’
‘What?’
‘Make sure your name and your team’s names are on it somewhere. It’s a cracking piece of work.’ And walked out before she could speak. Ha!
The world premiere in Hawking was a huge success. The IT section, thrilled at the thought of producing something creative instead of the daily uphill struggle to instruct the computer illiterate, really put their backs into it. Everyone in the entire unit assembled in Hawking and waited to be impressed. I couldn’t stand still. I went from Barclay’s last-minute tweaking to the Chief setting up the streamers around the designated area. They both, in their own ways, told me to go away. Eventually, I ground to a halt near Kal. She rubbed my arm encouragingly. ‘It’ll be OK.’
‘It’s got to be better than OK. It’s got to be bloody fantastic.’
‘It will be. Stand still. Breathe.’
The lights dimmed, to simulate dawn and we were off. Poets bang on a lot about rosy-fingered dawn and that’s just what we got, beautifully reflected in the still water. Tendrils of mist floated above the ground. The quality was amazing. The Cretaceous period was all around us, three hundred and sixty degrees. And solid – this was no cheap, wobbly, see-through simulation. I looked down at my feet, watching them sink into holo mud.
Far away, just on the edge of hearing, I could feel a deep rumbling in my chest. Looking around, I could see people looking at each other, hands on their own chests and laughing, but nervously.
The rumbling increased and out of the mist emerged the long, grey neck of an Alamosaurus, then another and another, then a whole group of them. Necks swayed sinuously and the noises increased. They were greeting each other and the day. One long neck snaked down towards the camera, revealing a small head and cow-like eyes. The bovine resemblance increased when it emitted a long, low mooing noise. The camera trembled. Satisfied we were no threat, the head moved away.