The Lives Bringing Life

Bob's Weather Lesson

    Phil had really wanted Eddie to have binoculars, given his hazardous duty.  He found a Sea Robin survivor who had brought a pair off the ship.  Having no real use for them, he was willing to part with them for a reasonable barter.  Phil wrapped up the binoculars for Eddie and had made a belt like his own for George.  Eddie and George were to leave after breakfast, on wagons heading to their respective assignments -- Eddie to Outpost One in the Rainy Basin, and George to the fishery.  Phil met them and presented their parting gifts.  Neither of them is much for hugs, yet they each allowed one for Phil as he saw them off.  Phil, on the other hand, lived for hugs.  He'd hug a Struthiomimus if he could find one who's willing.  Funny how people can be so different, he thought.

    Returning to the morning youth meeting scheduled each day after breakfast, he picked out Bob from his weather class.  It was to be his first stint in the station where he could put all that classroom theory into practice.  "Have a look out each of our station's four sides and tell me what you can see."



    "To the north I believe that's Windy Point."

    Right away Phil was happy that Bob could orient himself, a generic skill taught in Treetown.  "That's where my friend George works in the fishing fleet.  Now to the East?"

    "I see Bent Root and the rest of the Backbone Mountains."

    "To the South?"

    Well, that jungle is the Rainy Basin."

    "Have you ever been there?"

    "No."

    "Neither have I.  It's best we keep it that way.... Now to the West?"

    "I can barely make out Volcaneum."

    Phil had wanted binoculars for the station yet was happy to see a pair go with Eddie where it might help save lives.  After all, he did corner the market on weather instruments -- and like all Dinotopians he had learned to prioritize needs, not wants.

    "Now, which way do weather systems travel?"

    "From West to East."

    "Right, Bob.  Some have assumed it would be opposite here in the Southern Hemisphere, yet it's West to East over most of the globe.  So, when we look out to the West, we see what might arrive here in a few hours.  Now, suppose you wanted to take your girlfriend berry picking this afternoon.  Look to the West and tell me if that's a good idea."

    "Well, I'm afraid I don't yet have a girlfriend.  But if I did ... The sky appears to darken the farther West we see -- so maybe we should play checkers instead."

    "Right again Bob!  And remember there's three more weather stations across this island.  Each can observe stuff we can't.  So, when all the stations send their observations to the central office in Waterfall City, they arrive at a better forecast than we could on our own."

    "Will we be learning about how they combine the observations to make a forecast?"

    "That's a thoughtful question, Bob.  It's covered in the advanced course, which I've been revising with additional science.  Stephanie's in that class presently, studying the methods involved with assembling a forecast.  At the rate you're going, you could be there in perhaps six months."

  "I'm so excited about that prospect!  I want this to be my life's work!"

    "And I'm so happy you feel that way.  Many youths desire the more adventurous occupations, like Skybax riding.  Yet Dinotopia also needs folks who quietly work behind the scenes to support the more visible activities.  Well, that's all I have for your first station lesson.  Each day for the next two weeks we'll climb up here and take up each measurement and observation, one at a time.  Then you'll try writing your first report fit for Waterfall City.  I'll go down the ladder first.  Be incredibly careful, we're a neck and a half up."  Phil had learned to keep the lessons short, ending each just when his student's eyes light up with understanding.  And Bob was pumped.  The following semester he could very well become the next Stephanie.  And with typhoon season mere months away, another hand at the weather station wouldn't hurt.

    Spring in the Southern Hemisphere slowly yielded to Summer.  Justin was cleared for Skybax training -- and Stephanie made her meteorology apprenticeship in Canyon City as well.  Phil rejoiced over their success yet was profoundly sad to see them go.  Among all his Treetown friends, they were the best.  Whenever Phil felt down, he buried himself in work -- helping wherever he could besides his normal duties.  He did think about the fish problem from time to time, as did his former shipmates -- but no breakthroughs so far.  Via postal birds they kept up with each other, exchanging anecdotes and jokes they had heard. Phil thought, "Who needs the Internet?"  As December progressed, though, the notes from his friends took on a progressively serious tone.  Gone were the jokes and funny stories.  That afternoon, a new batch of letters arrived at the station.  Phil looked them over, becoming more despondent with each one:

    From George -- "Fishing awful this week, the smoker's been only half full.  For the first time we began drawing down our iced reserves.  An across-the-board 20% cut in distribution has begun.  It's so frustrating -- I don't see how I'm making a difference here."

    Justin -- "The fish shortage has reduced our flight hours.  We're getting along with what we got, yet I'm hoping against hope that it gets no worse."

    Stephanie -- "Weather training is a blast, and I get to see Justin more thanks to the weekly groundings.  You may be surprised to learn that some Canyon City residents regularly ate fish -- a practice no longer tolerated.  Last week a citizen caught taking fish from the Skybax supply was hauled off to jail.  Not sure what her sentence will be.  Some want her banished to the Rainy Basin -- gasp! -- you see how explosive this issue has become!"

    Yet by far the most disturbing notes were Eddie's -- like this one:

    "With the fish reduced, we were experimenting with adding stuff humans substitute in their diets -- such as, 'flax eggs' and soy -- but it didn't go very well.  One T. rex gave us a dirty look!  I had no idea they were so intelligent.  Fortunately, Becky our Protoceratops translator calmed her down and offered "real" fish -- and we escaped.  With less carnivore food available, we only run the most urgent convoys.  The time off is fun.  Yet the Basin's carnivores depend partly upon regular tribute from convoys to survive.  So now when we do mount a convoy, we encounter starving, desperate animals.  It's beyond negotiating -- we just toss our fish baskets and go, hoping they're satisfied.  I fear what would happen should we run into more hungry carnivores than we have fish for.  Something must be done!"

    Phil answered every letter he got, trying to encourage his friends.  Yet his words felt so trite and hollow.  He was in no danger at all, enjoying quite a normal routine.  Meanwhile, Eddie stared at death most every week.  And George felt helpless dealing with the poor catches of fish.  As a result, Phil carried the loads of both his friends while unable to do anything to help. This, of course, was a recipe for depression. The one thing that kept Phil grounded was working with the Treetown youths, whether with their chores, their games, or the weather station.  At today's noon observation with Bob:

    "Remember those altostratus clouds overhead this morning?  Where might you expect them now?"

    "To our East, over the Backbone Mountains."

    "Right, you see.  There they are.  And since they're traveling over a higher elevation, they might thicken and bring some showers.  How about to our South, were we saw rain clouds this morning -- did they disperse yet?"

    "Yeah, a little.  Probably only scattered showers now.  But look! there's something else happening there."  It was hard to make out among the trees, yet Phil and Bob both spotted the convoy which was headed their way.  "I wonder if that convoy will stop here."

    "Probably, since when they come this way, they usually do.  After all, we're the fun spot of Dinotopia, you know."

    "And there's also a lone Brachiosaurus heading the other way, toward the Rainy Basin."

    "Yes, I see it, and it's walking so slowly and deliberately."  Phil wondered audibly, "What on earth for?"

    Bob remembered something about this from school.  "Maybe the Brach is on his or her final journey to the sacred resting grounds, for its life to end in peace."

    "Won't the carnivores attack it on the way?"

    "They respect this arrangement and wait for the sauropod to expire naturally.  Only then will they eat, and thus in the end, this Brach will provide life to others."

    "That's quite a noble arrangement -- a life bringing lives.  It would never happen in Jurassic Park."

    "What's Jurassic Park?"

    Phil wondered how to explain this one. "As you know, dinosaurs went extinct elsewhere.  Yet their bones began to be found about the time of Arthur Denison -- and ever since then the world outside has been fascinated with dinosaurs.  Some have invented fictional stories like this Jurassic Park, where scientists re-created the dinosaurs and then their project went wrong, and the carnivores ate everything in sight."

    "And the outside people find this entertaining?"

    "I'm afraid so."