Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

down in taut ropes. This morning, the crew has been busy clearing another thirty square meters, uprooting bushes, removing earth and stones. The newly exposed part is not pegged off yet for Vesna to scale down.

A sense of presence snaps Vesna from her reverie. Professor Šaric stands politely by the bench, trying not to show that he’s interested in the contents of her portfolio. “Curiosity is a reflection of intelligence, Professor,” Vesna teases, looking back at the drawings.

“Thank you.” The professor blushes.

Vesna smiles and moves aside, an unspoken invitation that he accepts with relief. Today, the walk felt more strenuous than usual. Age … “May I?”

“Sure.” Vesna passes him the drawings. The professor realizes they’re a series, continuing one after another.

“This is what people are talking about?”

Vesna nods. All of Istria has been buzzing about the new find: hundreds of footprints frozen in stone. At least five dinosaur species and countless individual animals: iguanodons, a huge sauropod next to numerous small herbivores — some of them probably hypsilophodons — and a meat-eater.

“They’re from early Cretaceous.” Vesna points to the main map. “This one is a sauropod. See here, it just strolled by. It was a big one — notice the diameter of the prints! Twenty meters long, maybe more. And this is a large carnivore, possibly a megalosaur or something similar. We can’t yet determine the exact species of carnosaur based on footprints alone … And these are the iguanodons —” Vesna pauses when she notices the professor’s confused stare.

“I’m in a different field, you know. English, German, Italian … Dinosaurs … I only know they existed.”

“I’m sorry.” Vesna smiles as she apologizes. “Sometimes I forget myself. Here.” She pulls out several reconstructions drawn between her careful copying of the footprints in the grid. Professor Šaric nods, impressed by her skill for making long-extinct beasts come alive in detailed pencil drawings.

“So, these are the footprints of iguanodons?”

“Yes, we’re quite certain of it. But we don’t know what these ones mean. Nobody ever found anything like this before! Look how the soil was trampled.” Vesna takes the drawing and points excitedly. The professor follows her finger as it skims across the paper. “This was one animal. It approached the second one, a smaller one. See — it’s this trail. And look here—” Vesna leafs through several sheets. “They faced each other. Nothing in itself, right? But look more closely! As if they were turning around that way, but still facing each other…”

“Perhaps fighting?” Professor Šaric suggests.

“No, we don’t think so.” Vesna looks at the drawing. “It looks too neat for that. For a week now, the entire crew has been trying to figure it out. But we can’t. Maybe we’ll never know,” she sighs.

The professor studies the drawing more closely, frowning in concentration. The layout of the footprints seems somehow familiar to him. Until—

Damn, it can only be … But it’s impossible!

Still, if they were human feet, there would be no trace of doubt, not for a moment. He starts humming a melody, barely audible, as Vesna looks at him, perplexed.

Yes, that’s it! It can be nothing else, say what they may. And the poor child doesn’t see it. Of course, she doesn’t, this modern youth …

Finally, the professor returns the drawing to Vesna, thoughtful, saying nothing, merely smiling enigmatically.

~~~

Her heart shivered! Immediately She recognized the call of a male of Her own species. She replied, paused to listen, was answered at once. Splashing through waves washing the shore, She rushed across the wet sand, scattering several pterosaurs into a flurry of flapping wings and protesting cries. Where was He? Why couldn’t She see Him? Frantic, She stopped and called once again.

He stepped out from beneath the tree ferns. While He was motionless, the play of sunlight and shadows cast by leaves on His strong brown body with its narrow white stripes made Him almost invisible. He was watching Her intently.

She stopped in Her tracks. As much as She wanted to greet Him, as much as She rejoiced in seeing Him, She paused, cautious, not approaching any closer. She knew She was unfamiliar to Him, a stranger. He might consider Her an intruder. Maybe He was guarding His herd; if that were the case, He could attack Her to drive Her away from His territory.

Standing almost motionless, they studied each other for a long, long time. No other iguanodon stepped out of the shadows. She heard no other herd members. The male was alone, just as She was. Both alone, both diffident. Any sudden move could be understood as an act of aggression. Therefore, diffidence.Suspicion.Solitude.

And then She decided She couldn’t be lonely anymore.

~~~

Vesna descends the stony stairs. The professor sits on a rock beneath the wall rising above a small cove. Sea washes the sandy shore gently. It’s late afternoon and several strollers on the promenade above talk loudly and laugh at a joke one of them has just made. Above them, a small dinosaur calls in a ringing voice, methodically searching the crown of a downy oak for an insect or two. It has a greenish back, a yellow breast and belly with a central black stripe, black crown and throat, and white cheeks: a great tit.

When he sees Vesna coming down the stairs, Professor Šaric loses his breath. He freezes, petrified, speechless.

“Something wrong?” Vesna asks, worried at the sight of him. She wears a simple cream dress with a white cardigan thrown across her shoulders and a white shawl wound about her neck. Nothing special, nothing calculated; autumn afternoons and evenings have begun turning cool.

“Did it ever—” The professor pauses, not taking his eyes off Vesna. “Did it ever happen to you that you saw something — someone — so beautiful it’s painful? So painful it squeezes your heart and…”

For an awkward moment or two, Vesna doesn’t know what to reply. If it weren’t for the pain in the professor’s eyes, she’d take his words for simple flattery or teasing. But now … Somehow, she’s not sure things