May 2356, Exotic Fauna Trading Company, Director Office
“This happened fifteen times,” said a director, vigorously knocking on his massive wooden desk. “Last time in Africa in nineteenth century one of the centrosaurs escaped and killed an elephant! You know what could happen if you hadn’t caught it? “
“It didn’t escape. It just went for a walk,” specified Jaune, although it wouldn’t change anything.
“You’re fired. You have one last order and that’s it. You know hard it is to get license to transport animals from past to present, do you? And you should also know how hard it is to keep it.”
It’s not only thing that is hard. It’s quite difficult to make decent amount of money, but Jaune didn’t say anything aloud. It didn’t matter.
ca. 70 millions years BC, Western Interior Seaway (“I've a feeling we will be in Kansas someday if we stay here.”)
The elasmosaurus retaliated as it was transported in big net from its natural habitat. Engines roared and pulled the machine with its cargo towards the land. Jaune was trying to find proper spot on reptiles body, aiming with his long riffle. The animal was tossing around, but he was an experienced hunter and needed only one shot. Dart pierced reptile’s skin and let anesthetics into its bloodstream. It worked, and the long neck soon stopped moving.
“This time you wouldn’t want to stop for a while, right?" asked his colleague uncertainly. He did quick examination and found out that elasmosaurus is able to be transported and may be interesting for their customer. Jaune smiled bitterly.
“Who cares, we are fired one way or the other. Let’s go to Scotland for few bottles of whiskey. Sometime in 1930.”
October 2010, Journal of Modern Cryptozoology and Paranormal Studies’ Editor-in-chief Office
“What do you have?” a chief director liked enthusiastic amateurs and this one – although he stopped by only twice per year – usually brought very interesting material.
“I’d say it looks like some big beast of prey. It’s catlike, with big teeth, but you should look yourself.”
“I will… by the way, have I ever told you that you look like a man who sold material about Cornwall sea monster to my father? It was thirty-five years ago. My father then established this magazine and… well, you should stop at accounting on your way out. Or do you have something else for me?”
Jaune sighed. He knew that there will be no more side jobs like this. He needs to find full-time job. He had an idea what it could be.
“Yes, when I was here last time, I left hairy costume here.”
“Will there be masquerade?”
“It will. It was. In Káthmándú. I mean: nearby.”
He could establish his own magazine. Or multiples of them. In different places and different times.
After leaving the redaction, he looked at pile of junk in the courtyard. He needs ideas, now, when he has no way to get to Mesozoic animals. He noticed long wooden plank that was leaning against the wall. Of course, this could work. But when it would be best?
He pulled out his notebook.
Under his note “Himalaya, mask, footprints, nineteenth century, also around 1920, stop for dinner with Fort” he wrote: Wheat or tall grass, try Australia, around 1965.
Tip of his pen quivered millimetre above the paper. It will be Christmas soon; more money for presents sounds good.
Siberia. Something like bomb.
It will be bomb!
"Things just happen. What the hell."
* Terry Pratchett. Hogfather
Welcome to my world. For the longest time I couldn’t think of right name for this place, so I left it without one. Amongst things you can find here are attempts of science fiction and fantasy stories, my collection of gods, bogeymen and monsters and also articles about things that had me interested, be it for a while or for years. (There is more of this, sadly not in English but in Czech, on www.fext.cz)
Picture of the Month