Who: Ian Malcolm, Claude Rains [Open] What: Arrives in Los Angeles Where: A Park When: Late Morning Status: Incomplete Rating: TBD
.... "Sequelae are inherently unpredictable."
Ian Malcolm had stated that oh-so-very-obnoxiously in his first year of graduate work. He'd been a thorn in the side of university professors ever since. Hell, all things considering, the undergraduate professors had been thrilled to see him move on to the graduate level. There was mention that they'd thrown a pizza party in his honor. Well, in the honor of getting rid of him. But with great intelligence comes great jealousy. Jealousy among colleagues, among friends, among lovers. Yes, yes. Yes, even lovers. Especially lovers. Because of all emotion-based systems, love was by far the most chaotic but, unlike sequelae, very predictable. A conundrum in itself. Ian Malcolm could always predict the outcome of his relationships. And not just because they all tended to roll downhill at a very fast pace in the same direction. Because where men and women were concerned in romance, the outcome was always the same.
Chaos.
"In the conservative region far from the chaotic edge, individual elements coalesce slowly, showing no clear pattern."
From his critically-debunked chronicling of the events surrounding InGen and Jurassic Park. They didn't believe him then. Oh no. They were very quick to shove him into the same category as Area 51, the JFK assassination, and Billy Shears (he was the Walrus, after all.) But! Now they knew better, didn't they? Now they knew that Ian Malcolm; mathematician, chaotician, bearer of the complete understanding of the universe and all things therein, was right. Ha! He was right. He'd been telling the truth. So what if his books were smattered with chaos this and chaos that? He was right.
The world was a madhouse. It was upside down. And now?
Well, now he was standing in the middle of a park with no knowledge of how he got there. One minute he was dozing on the couch. A glass of red wine. Some fettucine. Sarah was snoring that semi-nasally snore she did when her head tilted back too far. Just a little thing. Nasal passages were too thin. Not enough airflow. Kelly was, well, doing something. Watching television. Talking on the phone. Whatever it was teenagers did.
And then Ian was standing in a park.
"No one could have predicted this," he stated out loud as a few people passed on bicycles. "A random, insequential passage of events. A void of time. Key elements of the story missing. Like the pages of a book torn out. No one could have predicted that I would wake up in a park."
He reached into his pocket to remove his thick-rimmed glasses and set them on the bridge of his nose. He'd gotten contacts but somehow he felt more embued with power when he had the glasses on.
"A perfect example of chaos."
He laughed.
"Ingenius."
Then he paused.
"Wait a minute ... I've been kidnapped. Someone is so getting sued."