This apartment, these walls and corners, these floors and doorways, they’re Dirk’s refuge. His shell, his armor. This place is light and warmth in an endlessly empty dark sea, a piece of the past to cling to in the wreckage of the future. A gift from his brother, a birthday present, the present of having birthdays, of being a human in a place meant for humans. Dirk could go out on rocket board, on rap-bot, on rafts, following the gulls, living free out under the sky, sailing by the light of the stars, but always he’d return to his sanctuary, his roost, his home. This apartment is Dave’s cage, and he spent thirteen years crammed up against the bars by a man who did not love him.

"The only positive relationship this animal has is with that crane." That's not entirely accurate. How do they clean the Indominus Rex enclosure? A joke concept turned tragic, in two acts.