Living Dangerously - Chapter 32
Jurassic Park’s animal handlers: none of them ever mentioned by name in Michael Crichton’s original novel. Who were they? What were their lives like on Isla Nublar? Did any of them survive the disaster?
A year in the life of those responsible for the care of the dinosaurs. Many people would kill to have their jobs.
But would they die for it?
Jurassic Park novel/Jurassic Park film (1993)
Viewpoint: 3rd person female oc
Warnings: some swears, this chapter is definitely M, 18+ due to one particualar line of dialogue. Minors dni.
Tagging: @heresthefanfiction @ocappreciation @wordspin-shares @howlingmadlady @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @starryeyes2000 @kmc1989 (please lmk if you would like informed of my sporadic updates)
Read on Ao3
Chapter 31 | Chapter 33
"Heroes" - David Bowie
“For Christ’s sake, girl!” Kathy practically ripped what remained of Lizzy’s dress off, yanked the shower door open and all but threw her inside. “You’re a darn icicle!”
The water was as baltic as the run-off from a glacier, heat yet to kick in and Lizzy’s teeth were still chattering violently.
“And don’t come out until you’re wrinkly!” Kathy snapped and left her to it, running a towel over her own head, as steam started to fill the room.
Lizzy scrubbed and scrubbed. She just couldn’t get rid of the smell of death. She imagined she still felt the raptor saliva clinging to her body, each faint hint of the stench making her want to gag. Lizzy kept trying to purge in vain until her skin was raw and angry, but the water continued to run dark red with a mixture of blood and dirt.
She gave up and simply stood under the water for a long time, as her limbs slowly defrosted. But her insides stayed cold and numb, and she started to cry, her sobs covered by the echo of the jets hitting tile.
***
Tom found Kathy by herself, sitting alone in the tiny kitchen in the staff lodge and staring at the wall.
“Everyone else has gone to bed, Kit.” He opened the fridge, half-heartedly scanning the contents before letting it fall shut again and leaning against it. “How’re you holding up?”
“I could be better.” Kathy told him. “That was pretty gruesome. I’ve never actually seen the aftermath before.”
Tom whistled. “Pretty rough one for your first time.”
”He’ll be back before we know it.”
Tom opened and shut his mouth in astonishment. Jeez, either her sense of humour was dark as night, or she had no clue.
”Uh…I don’t think he will be.”
“Huh?” Goddamn. She was serious.
“I mean, miracles are possible.” He slid into the chair beside her. “But I don’t know if we’re getting one this time.”
Kathy put her head in her hands, he didn’t notice she had broken until her shoulders started shaking silently.
“Hey, now.” He tried to put an arm around her but stopped when she leaned away from his touch. He hovered his hand above her and settled on an awkward back pat instead. “You’ve…er, you’ve got this.”
“Ughh…no, I don’t…” Kathy sniffed loudly. “I can’t wait it out until August-“
”You gotta-“ Tom’s heart dropped.
“But why? I could just go home to Minnesota now. I’d be flat broke-“
”We need you, and stuff. To lead. Lead the team.” He hurriedly tried to change her mind.
”Not much of a team to lead anymore.” She shrugged. “My jobs open, I guess you could fight Lizzy for it.”
”No, I need you-“ Tom realised he’d made a mistake. “-aw, Hell.”
“You…need me?” She blinked up at him. “Since when?”
”I, uh-“ He couldn’t meet her gaze. “Shit.”
“Talk.” Now she was looking at him all accusing, like, and Tom wished he was the one currently being zipped into a bodybag.
“Okay, here goes.” He sighed. “I kinda…couldn’t stop thinking about you over Christmas.”
“Huh?” This had to be a joke. Some ploy to get inside her head.
“It was the goddamn scarf you made. Something clicked…-“ He faltered. “That, and when Liz talked you into singing in front of everyone at the Christmas party.”
Kathy blushed and hid her face. After Lizzy had slaughtered a rendition of 9 to 5 which was very blatantly directed at Richardson, Kathy had followed her lead, with some convincing, and belted I Wanna Dance With Somebody at the top of her lungs.
”I’ve never heard anyone sing as pretty as you, lady.” Tom was still in awe, weeks later. “You could sing the anthem at the Superbowl.”
“Oh, that’s very…kind of you.” She responded warily.
Kathy had her own series of might-have-beens. She likely could have made a career in the arts, but she’d always loved cats more than performing. And anyway, she had crippling stage fright. No exaggeration, she’d have to drink more than Muldoon to stand in front of the microphone on a regular basis.
“You’re the kind one. You’re far too good for this place.” He gave her a sideways glance. ”Even if you do cheer for the Vikings.”
”There’s always next year.” Kathy muttered angrily. Minnesota had been knocked out in the first round of playoffs, much to her chagrin. “‘94 is gonna be the one.”
”Cowboys will win on Sunday.” Tom said confidently.
”We’ll see.” Kathy raised an eyebrow. “Looks like I’ll be cheering for Buffalo, in that case.”
He chuckled. “Could be worse, you could be into baseball.”
His comment reminded them both of Regis, in his Trenton Thunder cap.
Let’s roll.
Their smiles faded and they sat in solemn silence for several minutes.
“Tom, this has kind of come out of nowhere.” Kathy admitted, trying to process what was happening. He wasn’t bad looking, quite the opposite in fact, in a rough-around-the-edges way, if you liked that sort of thing.
But it was always his manners she’d found off-putting. And she genuinely had no idea he felt that way about her when everything he’d ever done indicated he positively loathed her entire existence.
She tugged on one of her braids, studying his expression carefully. “Why’d you tell me now? I’d made my peace with us never communicating outside of work.”
”I know, I know.” Tom looked guilty. “I wasn’t going to bring it up, but with Rico-“
Every word that came into his head was too permanent, too final for Kathy’s state of mind, so he changed tack mid-sentence.
”If something happened to me, I’d like to think I’d have no regrets.” He shrugged. “So there ya go.”
He nudged her shoulder with his, and this time, she didn’t recoil.
”I like you, lady.”
That should do it.
They usually just fell into his arms. And then his bed. It was easy.
But Kathy didn’t move a muscle. Or even say anything. She was just smiling at him politely like she wasn’t quite sure what to do.
“So, uh, how about it?” He prompted her. “You seeing anyone?”
“No.”
He grinned. “Awesome.”
”Sure, I’m single.” She and her high-school sweetheart had called it quits the previous winter. “But the no was my answer to your first question.”
“Grea- wait, what do you mean, no?”
Tom couldn’t remember a girl ever telling him no before.
”There’s been some undertones.” Kathy started off demurely, then exploded at him. “Hang on, screw that. You’ve been an absolute dweeb-“
Tom’s eyes widened at the verbal attack.
“-no, a complete and utter dick to me! You expect me just to drop everything and do what you want?! Now that you’re being civil?!”
“Okay, you can stop, I get it-“
“Talk about regrets?” There was no stopping it now, the emotion was just pouring out of Kathy. She was formidable. And she didn’t even raise her voice, not once. Her softness was all the more jarring. “You’ve made me feel like crap! You’ve embarrassed me, undermined my authority in front of pretty much everyone. Don’t you regret that?”
”I do, actually. I’ve realised why I was giving you such a hard time.”
”Well, please enlighten me.”
”It’s pretty complicated.”
”I’m pretty smart.” She said sharply. “I’m sure I can keep up.”
“Wow, we’re really getting into it tonight, huh?” He lamented even going into the kitchen at all.
“I’m waiting.”
“Jeez, you’re feisty when you feel like it-” Tom huffed. Where to begin?
“Okay, if it means so little to you, then I guess I’m leaving-“
“Wait, fine!” He groaned, rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. “…Richardson got to me early on, took me under his wing. I thought he was the mentor I’d always been looking for. That him and me were simpatico. The same.”
”You aren’t the only one.” Kathy could see why he’d targeted the southerner. Playing into a certain stereotype, Tom was the obvious choice.
“Well, he made promises he didn’t keep. Told me every chance he got that you, Liz, Muldoon, none of you were the right fit for the place.” Tom confessed. “That he had someone else in mind before Muldoon put Liz forward for her job. Someone better.”
“That’s why he doesn’t like her?” Kathy didn’t know why she sounded so shocked. Everything Tom had told her thus far had made perfect sense. “Because Elizabeth wasn’t his first choice?”
”She wasn’t his choice at all. He despises her. Richardson likes his women submissive. Seen and not heard.” Tom continued. “He thought he could easily make her leave, but she’s thriving here. Rattled some cages. Trust me, it’s only because Liz and Muldoon are so goddamn stubborn that this place hasn’t turned into a boys club.”
“Oh, screw that.”
“Be glad of those two. If they weren’t here, you and Isaac, maybe Julian too, would have been outta town within the first month.” Tom nodded meaningfully. “He’d have made it impossible for you to stay.”
He paused, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. He would have likely been part of that ousting process. But things were different now. A certain ethologist had fought for and won his respect. Rattled his cage, indeed.
“Jeez…I’m so glad I was put on Carnivores.” Kathy murmured.
“Me too. I was originally supposed to report back to Richardson with anything…untoward.” Tom shook his head. “He was absolutely convinced Liz was sleeping with someone higher up.”
”What, he thought she’d do the same for him?” Kathy snorted, only half-joking.
”Evidently. He ain’t got it as bad for her as he does for María, I’ve heard him say some damn awful things. Like, make you lose your lunch, sick.”
Kathy shook her head, she didn’t want to think about that. “What happened?”
“I realised that Richardson was wrong about plenty. Especially Liz.” Tom thought back to that fateful day Muldoon locked them both in the cupboard to work things out. “Everything he told me about her was a lie. That she was a spoiled, dumb, little wh-…uh…”
“Say it.” Kathy insisted. “You need to.”
“He called her a whore.” Tom looked thoroughly ashamed. “I believed him.”
“Past tense?” She pointed out. “So you definitely aren’t his right-hand-man anymore?”
“Eh, I’ve pissed him off one too many times, I reckon. Liz has done nothing wrong, God forbid she’s actually good at her job, and he didn’t like it when I told him so.” Tom smirked. “She’s alright. Though I do miss really winding her up.”
“You still do that.” Kathy pointed out.
“Yeah. Even if anything…happened-“ Tom cleared his throat. “I’d probably stay quiet about it now.”
“Well, aren’t you a saint.” She remarked.
“Muldoon’s a good man. He’s fair. Which means a lot around here.” He looked downtrodden. “But I’m still not sure he does anything other than tolerate me.”
”No, he likes you.” Kathy told him, her voice rising in pitch.
He snorted at her obvious lie. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well, he doesn’t hate you!” She exclaimed. “That’s an achievement.”
”He told you?” His expression brightened.
”Something like that.” Kathy nodded. “He tells me most things, verbally or otherwise, I can usually figure him out.”
“You’re lucky.” Tom sounded genuinely envious. “I can’t read the guy at all. I just-…nah…”
”Go on.”
“Promise not to make fun?”
“Cross my heart.”
”I don’t care what Richardson thinks of me anymore.” Tom hesitated. “I kind of care, a lot, about what Muldoon thinks.”
Dare he even think it, let alone utter the words, he wanted the guy to be proud of him. Something he’d never, ever, get. Pathetic. Goddamn, what a loser.
”I think you’re doing okay.” Kathy told him quietly. He’d made wrong choices, sure, but Tom could still turn it all around. “Recently you’ve been almost bearable.”
“I’ll take that.”
“So, what’s next for Richardson’s white supremacy vision?” Kathy leaned back and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard. She’d thought of Rico again, and the tears were threatening to make another appearance.
“Well, it’s not good. Travis says he never goes out in the park with them. His own team is getting pissed off with him. They want what we have. They want a Muldoon.”
”Mutiny?”
”Maybe.” Tom agreed. “It’s not gonna be pretty.”
“I might not be here to see it.” Kathy sighed. “Shame.”
“You’re dead set on heading back to the States, huh?”
“I’m going to my new job at the Smithsonian.” She said fiercely. “Nothing’s gonna change that. It’s really important to me. The interview was terrifying.”
”I get it.” He glanced at her sideways. “I still got a couple months with you, right?”
“With me?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why, you planning on doing better?”
“Well, yeah.” Self-improvement was a relatively new concept. “Even if nothing…-I’d like to think we could hang out more. Just us, maybe. I could be your acc-…accom-…accomp-…the fella who plays guitar.”
”Can you even play guitar?”
“Well, not yet. But I’d learn how if you would sing for me.”
“Very good.” Kathy smiled, in spite of herself. “Here’s what I want-“
”You want it, you got it.”
“Listen up. Prove you’re on my side.” She deliberately tapped the countertop between each word. “It’s that simple. Just don’t be a dick anymore, Tom.”
“Can I still be a little bit of a dick? Only not to you.”
”As long as you’re not a huge dick.”
“I’ll be your dick.” He thought he’d blown it, wincing. “Wait, no-“
Fortunately, she laughed. “There are far too many length descriptors in this conversation for my liking.”
“Sorry.”
”’S’okay. By all means, be a useful dick when appropriate to do so. Be our dick.” Kathy finally got up to leave, even if she couldn’t sleep, she still needed to crash out on her bed. “And boy, you better start learning guitar.”
***
Lizzy gave a final look to her dress, crumpled like a dead bird in the sink, no longer red, no longer a one-piece, balled it up and threw it in the trash.
If Regis was really that pressed about it, he could take it out of her salary. She didn’t care. She would be happy to never see that man again.
Call off your dog.
Bastard. She whispered at her own reflection in the mirror. Makeup washed away, she still didn’t recognise herself. The haunted look in her eyes, and gritty blood trapped under her fingernails kept pulling her back to the moment she had rolled Rico‘s body over and seen what resembled a dissection diagram laid out on the muddy ground at her feet.
But she had finally pulled herself back into enough recognisable pieces to face the world. She reminded herself it wasn’t over yet. She was acting like Rico was already dead. Everyone else was too.
He may as well be.
She wondered if the helicopter had made it to Bahía Anasco. If they had found a doctor. If he had still been alive at that point. So many what-if’s and no answers.
Lizzy padded up to the kitchen in her bare feet and the clothes she usually slept in, hair still in damp ringlets after towel-drying.
She heard Kathy and Tom’s voices, talking low and hushed. It sounded like an important conversation. Suspiciously resembling a heart-to-heart.
Lizzy was about to push her way in to join them, but changed her mind.
She would be kidding herself, and them, by third-wheeling. She didn’t want to think anymore. She didn’t want to chat.
She knew exactly what she wanted. And who she wanted it from. Lizzy about-turned and marched back down the corridor, arriving outside a door that wasn’t hers, but one she knew well.
Screw the goddamn rules.
Knock knock. And because she was in a spectacularly bad mood, still seething at Regis, she kicked the door for good measure.
He didn’t answer fast enough for her liking.
She wondered if Muldoon also wasn’t in the mood for talking.
That was alright, because talking wasn’t what she had in mind.
Knock knock kick again.
Chances were, he already knew it was her, and for whatever reason, was keeping her waiting. Lizzy jogged from foot to foot impatiently, he needed to hurry up, before anyone saw what she was up to.
There would be questions.
The park warden regarded her suspiciously as he finally opened his door.
“Well, you look a damn sight better.”
”I don’t feel any better.” She answered bluntly.
“Likewise.”
Lizzy sidled closer, hoping he’d take the hint. She waited expectantly for him to let her in, but he just stood, unmoving in the doorway.
“Why are you here, Armstrong?”
“I don’t want to be alone.”
“What’s wrong with Baker’s company?”
“She and Tom are having a moment.”
“Really?” He looked genuinely interested. “Strange.”
“I know, right?” Lizzy shook her head, ready to elaborate, then realised she was being misdirected. ”That’s not the point!”
“Then get to it.” His expression didn’t change. “Quickly.”
“I don’t want Kathy. I want you.”
She wanted to feel safe. With Kathy, she was the protector, always the protector, always looking out for everybody, with her siblings, co-workers, even bloody Simon. She wanted to be protected, for a change. Just for one day.
Muldoon looked exasperated. “We’ve already been through this, we can’t-“
“Please.”
“This isn’t a good time.”
“Look, here. I have had quite possibly the worst day of my adult life, and-…why? What are you doing?” Her gaze flicked past him to the table. “Oh, you better not be-“
He defensively moved to block her view. “So what if I am? Rough night and all that.”
“You are!” She cried in dismay. “Seriously? Are you trying to kick me when I’m down?”
“Then leave, if you don’t want to see it. Go back to your own room, and stay there.”
She became apoplectic with him. How dare he? They were all struggling, and he’d chosen to suffer alone, again. Turning to drink, instead of company. Instead of the rest of the team. Instead of her.
But this time, she wasn’t running away. Not without a fight.
“Absolutely not.”
Lizzy ducked under his arm in a flash and headed straight for the table.
She knew she had to get through to him somehow, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be pretty.
Lizzy snatched the bottle off the table and looked him dead in the eyes as she started necking down the contents.
“For Christ’s sake, Armstrong-“
“It’s not nice, is it?” Lizzy stopped for breath, head already swimming, throat on fire, dodged him and continued downing gulps of whiskey as she tried to evade, keeping the table between them. “Watching me do this to myself?”
No, it wasn’t nice. It was bloody awful.
Lizzy nearly tripped, swallowed the wrong way and started a coughing fit. Christ, it burned. But she recovered quickly, from years of practice as a teenager in the darkest alleys of Glasgow.
“Serves you right.”
“God ‘sake, this is awful stuff.” She peered at the label on the bottle, struggling without her glasses. “Eighteen-year? I don’t bloody think so! You really drink this?”
“Not tonight, apparently.”
“Then I may as well just pour the rest of it away?” She stepped backwards and hovered the bottle tauntingly through the open window, threatening to upend it. “Remove temptation.”
“Alright, that’s enough, Lizzy.”
“First name?” She smirked, but set the bottle back down on solid ground. “Oh, I am in trouble.”
It felt all wrong. She hadn’t dared confront anyone about a possible alcohol problem since she’d ended up with a broken arm in her teens. Her shoulder was aching that very moment, from the cold and rain, and she rolled it unconsciously, a nervous habit, stretching it out with an audible creak.
Muldoon watched her do it, the way her mouth tightened involuntarily from the pain she was used to dealing with every single day. Not all of it physical.
He couldn’t do this to her. She was trying to help him. Trying to fix something, since she had failed to fix Esteves, in the jungle.
Her eyes were a little out of focus as she glared at him. He waved a hand slowly back and forth, and as her gaze followed, it was definitely lagging.
“Are you wrecked? Already?” He sank down on the bed, looking incredibly weary. “I thought your sort knew how to handle your drink.”
“You would assume so.” Lizzy hiccuped. “Funnily enough, I can’t stand whisky anymore. How’s that for ironic?”
“You’re a ridiculous woman.” Then partly to himself. “Who in their right mind would-“
”If I drink it all, there’s none for you.” She was beginning to sway back and forth with a thousand-yard stare. “Actually, mate, I don’t feel very good.”
Lizzy barely drank anymore, for personal and obvious reasons. When she did, she could hardly keep up with Kathy, and she didn’t even want to.
“Ridiculous.” He repeated. “Go, get into bed, now.”
Lizzy only blinked at him, stunned.
“To sleep, you lunatic. You’re half-cut.”
She raised a finger and whispered very deliberately. “That may be true.”
Even in her bleary state, she’d spotted a loophole.
He’d made no mention of Lizzy getting in her own bed. And he wasn’t sending her away that easily.
She started undressing, right in front of him. She’d made up her mind she was staying the night. Hell nor high water was getting her out of that room. He was not drinking on her watch. This was a stakeout.
“What are you-“
“Maybe you should try the thirty-four-year-old instead.” Lizzy interrupted loudly as she slid her shorts down over her hips, kicking them off across the room. “Just saying.”
“The thirty-four-year-old is really testing my patience.”
“But will make you feel so much better.” She sidled over, standing in front of him with bare legs. “No hangover.”
“Just a permanent headache.” He replied cynically.
“Tastes better, too.” Her eyebrow twitched suggestively, and the mood changed in an instant.
His gaze was now dragging over her body in an entirely different way. “Does she, now?”
She murmured affirmation as she bent forward and took both his hands in hers, placing them around her middle. Lizzy lifted the hem of her baggy t-shirt, getting ready to pull it over her head.
“Lizzy-“ He warned. This was going too far.
“Have you had enough of me?” She asked in a low voice.
Never. But he didn’t want her like this. Not at his best, for lack of a better phrase. He’d already made it a fair way through the bottle before she’d rudely interrupted.
He told her as much, but it didn’t seem to put her off at all.
Lizzy smiled coyly. “Who says you have to do anything?“ She was looking at him from under her eyelashes as she elaborated. “I like being in charge too, y’know?”
She had very nice legs, strong legs. It was difficult to push away the thought of those on either side of his, straddling him, if she took the lead, as she was implying.
She felt good, as he was running his fingers up and down her thighs. Watching her shiver and arch her back slightly, battling whether to reach up and squeeze that lovely rear of hers before thinking better of it and letting his hands drop down, away from her body. Lizzy’s smile faded and she folded her arms over her chest.
“I know, Lizzy. But you’ve been drinking.”
“So have you.” She quite rightly pointed out.
“Makes it double the mistake then, I’m afraid-“ he held her gaze, “-fucking you.”
The sound of Lizzy’s sharp intake of breath filled the whole room. She’d never heard him say that word before, it was always damn this, bloody that. And it honestly shocked her. The switch was flipped between them, and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself.
He did that on purpose.
“Very chivalrous.” She stammered awkwardly, recovering her ability to speak after a flustered moment and sat down beside him, spell broken. “You must hate always being right.”
“Now more than ever.”
She stretched and flopped back on his bed. God, she was exhausted. The chill from the wind and rain had cut down to her bones. Though the taste was lingering on her tongue in a way she wasn’t a fan of, the burning scotch was starting to warm her up pleasantly from the inside, her lids were so heavy. She felt herself sinking downwards, gradually relaxing muscles that she didn’t even know she’d been tensing.
Felt like home. Not Glasgow, not New York, but exactly the way her bunk smelled in her favourite place in the world at the end of a long, hot day. Of the outdoors, and sun-warmed leather.
Going to rest my eyes, just for a second. Got to stay awake-
He was talking to her again, but she was too tired to process what he was saying.
“Uh-huh, yeah…I’m still here…” She mumbled.
Then oblivion.
“Armstrong?” No answer. “…Lizzy?”
When he looked around she was fast asleep with her mouth open, sprawled out and limbs pointing in all directions.
He didn’t have the heart to wake her.
“Suppose you are staying, then.”
***
By Christ, she snored.
Rhinoceroses were quieter. The damn tyrannosaur was quieter.
But it was oddly reassuring, instead of the usual dead silence, alone with too many of his own thoughts. Like heavy rain on tent canvas, or cicadas.
If it were a biblical plague of cicadas Muldoon thought to himself.
She hadn’t stirred when he’d picked up her legs to move her underneath the covers. If anything, she’d snored even louder in protest.
He’d swithered for a long while about actually getting into bed with her. It almost felt wrong it was that easy, after months of thinking about this exact situation, and she wasn’t even awake.
It was her idea in the first place. Where else could he go, sleep in his damn Jeep?
He couldn’t do that to her, just leave her to wake up alone. She needed him, come looking for him for a reason, though slightly misguided.
But this is not a reward. She won’t stay next time. She’ll leave and not come back.
Muldoon vowed to do his best to make sure there wouldn’t be a next time. This was his last chance.
Armstrong’s ridiculous, half-baked, hastily-constructed plan had paid off.
Ridiculous, indeed. She was the most ridiculous woman he’d ever met.
And brave. Damn brave, to face him in this state.
With that thought, Muldoon felt incredibly guilty. She shouldn’t have had to do all that in an attempt to get through to him.
He couldn’t stop thinking about what he would have done if it had been Armstrong attacked, instead of Esteves. If she were the one lying cold and motionless, headed to the mainland for the last time.
But she was alive, only sleeping, and she was right there.
He watched her chest rise and fall for a few minutes, just to reassure himself she was unharmed. Her ribcage wasn’t caved in, her skin wasn’t leaching colour from exsanguination.
She was warm and soft and kept on fidgeting endlessly, limbs pointing in every direction, shuffling closer to him in her sleep, until he was pressed against the wall and couldn’t possibly move any further away from her.
When she flung a hand out restlessly, reaching for something he couldn’t see, Muldoon gave up and put an arm around her middle, letting her in.
Can’t say I didn’t try.
She sighed softly, resumed snoring at quite frankly worrying decibels and stopped twitching every half a second.
The whiskey glass, still in its place on the table caught his eye, glinting in the moonlight.
For the first time in a very long while, he didn’t want it.
No, this would do instead.
***
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