Excerpt from the novel Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton

     “I was first contacted,” Morris explained, “by the Office of Technology Transfer. The OTT monitors shipments of American technology that might have military significance. They called to say that InGen had two areas of possible illegal technology transfer. First, InGen shipped three Cray XMPs to Costa Rica. InGen characterized it as a transfer within corporate divisions, and said they weren’t for resale. But OTT couldn’t imagine why the hell somebody’d need that power in Costa Rica.”
     “Three Crays,” Grant said. “Is that a kind of computer?”
     Morris nodded. “Very powerful supercomputers. To put it in perspective, three Crays represent more computing power than any other privately held company in America. And InGen sent the machines to Costa Rica. You have to wonder why.”
     “I give up. Why?” Grant said.
     “Nobody knows. And the Hoods are even more worrisome,” Morrise continued. “Hoods are automated gene sequencers—machines that work out the genetic code by themselves. They’re so new that they haven’t been put on the restricted lists yet. But any genetic engineering lab is likely to have one, if it can afford the half-million-dollar price tag.” He flipped through his notes. “Well, it seems InGen shipped twenty-four Hood sequencers to their island in Costa Rica.
     “Again, they said it was a transfer within divisions and not an export,” Morris said. “There wasn’t much that OTT could do. They’re not officially concerned with use. But InGen was obviously setting up one of the most powerful genetic engineering facilities in the world in an obscure Central American country. A country with no regulations. That kind of thing has happened before.”
     There had already been cases of American bioengineering companies moving to another country so they would not be hampered by regulations and rules. The most flagrant, Morris explained, was the Biosyn rabies case.
     In 1986, Genetic Biosyn Corporation of Cupertino tested a bio-engineered rabies vaccine on a farm in Chile. They didn’t inform the government of Chile, or the farm workers involved. They simply released the vaccine.
     The vaccine consisted of a live rabies virus, genetically modified to be nonvirulent. But the virulence hadn’t been tested; Biosyn didn’t know whether the virus could still cause rabies or not. Even worse, the virus had been modified. Ordinarily you couldn’t contract rabies unless you were bitten by an animal. But Biosyn modified the rabies virus to cross the pulmonary alveoli; you could get an infection just inhaling it. Biosyn staffers brought this live rabies virus down to Chile in a carry-on bag on a commercial airline flight. Morris often wondered what would have happened if the capsule had broken open during the flight. Everybody on the plane might have been infected with rabies.
     It was outrageous. It was irresponsible. It was criminally negligent. But no action was taken against Biosyn. The Chilean farmers who unwittingly risked their lives were ignorant peasants; the government of Chile had an economic crisis to worry about; and the American authorities had no jurisdiction. So Lewis Dodgson, the geneticist responsible for the test, was still working at Biosyn. Biosyn was still as reckless as ever. And other American companies were hurrying to set up facilities in foreign countries that lacked sophistication about genetic research. Countries that perceived genetic engineering to be like any other high-tech development, and thus welcomed it to their lands, unaware of the dangers posed.
     “So that’s why we began our investigation of InGen,” Morris said. “About three weeks ago.”
     “And what have you actually found?” Grant said.
     “Not much,” Morris admitted. “When I go back to San Francisco, we’ll probably have to close the investigation. And I think I’m about finished here.” He started packing up his briefcase. “By the way, what does ‘juvenile hyperspace’ mean?”
     “That’s just a fancy label for my report,” Grant said. “‘Hyperspace’ is a term for multidimensional space—like three-dimensional tic-tac-toe. If you were to take all the behaviors of an animal, its eating and movement and seleping, you could plot the animal within the multidimensional space. Some paleontologists refer to the behavior of an animal as occurring in an ecological hyperspace. ‘Juvenile hyperspace’ would just refer to the behavior of juvenile dinosaurs—if you wanted to be as pretentious as possible.”
     At the far end of the trailer, the phone rang. Ellie answered it. She said, ” “He’s in a meeting right now. Can he call you back?”
     Morris snapped his briefcase shut and stood. “Thanks for your help and the beer,” he said.
     “No problem,” Grant said.
     Grant walked with Morris down the trailer to the door at the far end. Morris said, “Did Hammond ever ask for any physical materials from your site? Bones, or eggs, or anything like that?”
     “No,” Grant said.
     “Dr. Sattler mentioned you do some genetic work here….”
     “Well, not exactly,” Grant said. “When we remove fossils that are broken or for some other reason not suitable for museum preservation, we send the bones out to a lab that grinds them up and tries to extract proteins for us. The proteins are then identified and the report is sent back to us.”
     “Which lab is that?” Morris asked.
     “Medical Biologic Services in Salt Lake.”
     “How’d you choose them?”
     “Competitive bids.”
     “The lab has nothing to do with InGen?” Morris asked.
     “Not that I know,” Grant said.
     They came to the door of the trailer. Grant opened it, and felt the rush of hot air from outside. Morris paused to put on his sunglasses.
     “One last thing,” Morris said. “Suppose InGen wasn’t really making a museum exhibit. Is there anything else they could have done with the information in the report you gave them?”
     Grant laughed. “Sure. They could feed a baby hadrosaur.”
     Morris laughed, too. “A baby hadrosaur. That’d be something see. How big were they?”
     “About so,” Grant said, holding his hands six inches apart. “Squirrel-size.”
     “And how long before they become full-grown?”
     “Three years,” Grant said. “Give or take.”
     Morris held out his hand. “Well, thanks again for your help.”
     “Take it easy driving back,” Grant said. He watched for a moment as Morris walked back toward his car, and then closed the trailer door.
     Grant said, “What did you think?”
     Ellie shrugged. “Naïve.”
     “You like the part where John Hammond is the evil arch-villain?” Grant laughed. “John Hammond’s about as sinister as Walt Disney. By the way, who called?”
     “Oh,” Ellie said, “it was a woman named Alice Levin. She works at Columbia Medical Center. You know her?”
     Grant shook his head. “No.”
     “Well, it was something about identifying some remains. She wants you to call her back right away.”