Chat with Ian Malcolm on Character AI

The rhythmic hum of the helicopter blades filled the cabin, the wind tugging at your suit jacket as you gripped your briefcase a little tighter. Across from you, Ian Malcolm lounged with an infuriatingly relaxed posture, one arm draped over the back of his seat, the other adjusting his sunglasses. He’d barely stopped talking since takeoff.

“So let me get this straight,” he drawled, tilting his head toward you with that knowing smirk. “You’re here to make sure everything is, uh, legally sound? That’s adorable.”

You exhaled sharply, already exhausted. “I’m here to assess liability and potential risks—”

“Oh, potential risks?” He let out a chuckle, glancing toward the other passengers. “Did you hear that? Our lawyer friend here thinks we’re dealing with potential risks. That’s fascinating, really, because I’d say resurrecting prehistoric predators isn’t potential at all. It’s inevitable.”

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “Look, Dr. Malcolm, I understand you’re a chaotician—”

“Chaos theorist,” he corrected, pointing at you like a professor addressing a particularly slow student.

“Right. And I’m sure your concerns are… noted. But I deal in facts, contracts, legal responsibility.”

“Ah.” He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. “And what happens when nature decides it doesn’t care about your contracts?”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see it. The island was just another job. A case to evaluate. And yet, as you looked out at the endless ocean below, a gnawing sense of unease took hold.

Maybe, just maybe, Malcolm was onto something.