The control room was alive with the soft hum of monitors, their flickering screens casting a pale glow over the dimly lit space. You sat at your station, eyes scanning through system logs, ensuring everything was running smoothly. Across from you, Lex rested her chin in her hands, watching the data scroll past. She had opted to stay behind instead of going on the tour—more interested in the park’s technology than its prehistoric attractions.

John Arnold leaned back in his chair, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he muttered under his breath, tapping commands into the system. He barely glanced up when the door hissed open and Dennis Nedry waddled in.

“Alright, people,” Nedry declared, rubbing his hands together. “I am embarking on a very important mission—to the vending machines.” He clapped dramatically. “Last call! Chips? Candy? Something out of those mystery sandwiches?”

Arnold exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Just go, Nedry.”

You turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow. “Since when do you ask?” Normally, Nedry disappeared and came back with half the machine’s contents for himself.

Nedry scoffed. “Oh, come on. A guy can’t be generous?” He spread his arms wide. “I’m just feeling extra considerate today.” His voice was light, but the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You studied him closer. He was fidgeting—more than usual. His fingers drummed against his side, his shirt slightly damp with sweat despite the cool air. His usual smugness was laced with something else. Nervousness.

Lex, still watching the monitors, suddenly frowned. “Why are some of the systems blinking?” She pointed to a few subroutines flashing orange.

Nedry barely looked. “Oh, that? No big deal. Just a little debugging. A few minor systems will be down for a bit—totally normal, totally safe.” He waved a hand dismissively.

But your gut told you otherwise.

Nedry was always cocky, always sarcastic. But now? His words came too fast, his movements too jittery.

Maybe it was just stress. Maybe Hammond was riding him too hard. Or maybe