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technician named Alice Levin walked into the Tropical Diseases Laboratory, seen Tina Bowman's picture, and said, "Oh, whose kid drew the dinosaur?"
        "What?" Richard Stone said, turning slowly toward her.
        "The dinosaur. Isn't that what it is? My kid draws them all the time."
        "This is a lizard," Stone said. "From Costa Rica. Some girl down there drew a picture of it."
        "No," Alice Levin said, shaking her head. "Look at it. It's very clear. Big head, long neck, stands on its hind legs, thick tail. It's a dinosaur."
        "It can't be. It was only a foot tall."
        "So? There were little dinosaurs back then," Alice said. "Believe me, I know. I have two boys, I'm an expert. The smallest dinosaurs were under a foot. Teenysaurus or something, I don't know. Those names are impossible. You'll never learn those names if you're over the age of ten."
        "You don't understand," Richard Stone said. "This is a picture of a contemporary animal. They sent us a fragment of the animal. It's in the freezer now." Stone went and got it, and shook it out of the baggie.
        Alice Levin looked at the frozen piece of leg and tail, and shrugged. She didn't touch it. "I don't know," she said. "But that looks like a dinosaur to me."
        Stone shook his head. "Impossible."
        "Why?" Alice Levin said. "It could be a leftover or a remnant or whatever they call them."
        Stone continued to shake his head. Alice was uninformed; she was just a technician who worked in the bacteriology lab down the hall. And she had an active imagination. Stone remembered the time when she thought she was being followed by one of the surgical orderlies. . . .
        "You know," Alice Levin said, "if this is a dinosaur, Richard, it could be a big deal."
        "It's not a dinosaur."
        "Has anybody checked it.
        "No," Stone said.
        "Well, take it to the Museum of Natural History or something," Alice Levin said. "You really should."
        "I'd be embarrassed."
        "You want me to do it for you?" she said.
        "No," Richard Stone said. "I don't."
        "You're not going to do anything?"
        "Nothing at all." He put the baggie back in the freezer and slammed the door. "It's not a dinosaur, it's a lizard. And whatever it is, it can wait until Dr. Simpson gets back from Borneo to identify it. That's final, Alice. This lizard's not going anywhere."

    SECOND ITERATION

    [picture]

    "With subsequent drawings of the fractal curve, sudden changes may appear."

    IAN MALCOM
    The Shore of the Inland Sea

    Alan Grant crouched down, his nose inches from the ground. The temperature was over a hundred degrees. His knees ached, despite the rug-layer's pads he wore. His lungs burned from the harsh alkaline dust. Sweat dripped off his forehead onto the ground. But Grant was oblivious to the discomfort. His entire attention was focused on the six-inch square of earth in front of him.
        Working patiently with a dental pick and an artist's camel brush, he exposed the tiny L-shaped fragment of jawbone. It was only an inch long, and no thicker than his little finger. The teeth were a row of small points, and had the characteristic media] angling. Bits of bone flaked away as he dug. Grant paused for a moment to paint the bone with rubber cement before continuing to expose it. There was no question that this was the jawbone from an infant carnivorous dinosaur. Its owner had died seventy-nine million years ago, at the age of about two months. With any luck, Grant might find the rest of the skeleton as well. If so, it would be the first complete skeleton of a baby carnivore -
        "Hey, Alan!"
        Alan Grant looked up, blinking in the sunlight. He pulled down his sunglasses, and wiped his forehead with the back of his arm.
        He was crouched on an eroded hillside in the badlands outside Snakewater, Montana. Beneath the great blue bowl of sky, blunted hills, exposed outcroppings of crumbling