Hybrid Vigor, Part 3

Notice:  This story has been rated "NC17" for adult language, nudity,
strong sexual content, violence, and explicit smoking.  If you find any
of this objectionable, I suggest you try another fetish.

Copyright 1997 by G. M. Sullivan.  All rights reserved.  This story may
be copied and distributed for the uncompensated amusement of others
only.

Author's note:  This story takes place during the spring before the
events described in "Dying for a Cigarette" and "Phoenix Ascending."
While it is not necessary to read those stories to enjoy this one, I
recommend them to you with full prejudice.

Dedication:  For Sstoryman, with deepest respect.


"Hybrid Vigor"  Part Three of Five


Part Three:  Dr. Ryan's Magic Bullet

7.  A Small Experiment

As nine o'clock approached, Dr. Ryan put away the sphygmomanometer and
portable heart monitor.  He was satisfied with his vitals.  A knock
came at his door, and he said, "enter!"

Shelly came in and sat in front of his desk.  She was feeling just a
small touch of dizziness this time, and even in the presence of the
intimidating Dr. Ryan she was much more relaxed.  She was looking
forward to smoking for him, but would try not to appear too anxious to
grab a cigarette.  She must not allow this man any more clues.

Dr. Ryan noted her improved attitude and allowed himself a thin smile.
Aronsen was certainly no hardened undercover operative; that had been
obvious yesterday.  However, she had nerve and, relatively speaking,
intelligence as well.  "Do you feel comfortable with the procedures
now, Miss Demming?"

"Yes, Dr. Ryan, they were a little scary at first, but I'm ready to go
ahead now."

"Very good."  As regulations required, he gave her a brief oral quiz on
some of the essential procedures and was satisfied with her responses,
noting the fact on his computer.

"Doctor, may I..." Shelly reached for the cigarette box on his desk.

"Sore throat better?"  Not waiting for an answer, he opened a drawer in
his desk.  "Just one moment.  Perhaps you would like to try one of
these.  They are a new blend we hope to bring to market soon..."  He
extended the special pack, which now was missing one cigarette.

"Oh...sure, Dr. Ryan.  I like taste tests..."  Shelly took a cigarette,
which looked no different from any other.

"Allow me," he said, and offered a light.  Shelly leaned forward,
accepted the light, and leaned back, drawing hard to show her new
smoking expertise.  Dr. Ryan watched silently, his right hand moving to
the keyboard and opening a window titled "Initial Reactions - M. L.
Demming."  The screen was hidden from Shelly's view.

Shelly noticed the difference immediately.  This cigarette seemed to be
producing a lot more smoke, and she was forced to cut her drag short.
It also seemed milder, with only a trace of bitterness and an
underlying, almost sweet taste.  She removed the cigarette and breathed
in deeply.

Immediately, the dizziness she was feeling from her first cigarette
ceased, like a light going out.  She felt a familiar warmth in her
throat and chest, but this time the warmth spread outward through her
abdomen, hips, legs, and finally to her head.  She experienced a
pleasant tingling all over, and a feeling similar to the last time she
had taken a codeine-based cough syrup, but without any accompanying
lassitude or drowsiness.  Her eyes closed with pleasure.  This was
wonderful!

When she exhaled, she hardly noticed that she produced a larger,
thicker cloud than Mary Lou ever had, or that the smoke was just a
shade whiter than usual.  Dr. Ryan's right hand typed "mild euphoria"
on the screen, followed by "surface flush."  He was not surprised by
the size of her exhale; the smoke from these cigarettes did not need
filtering, and the included filter was largely a dummy of his own
design.  Marketing had assured him that a new, unfiltered cigarette
would be slow to catch on, no matter how good they tasted.

More smoke emerged with Shelly's next two breaths and her following
sigh.  "I take it you like these?" asked Dr. Ryan.

"Oh, yes!" she said.  "May I keep the pack?"

"Certainly you may, Miss Demming, and here are four more.  Just be
careful not to share these around...the supply is limited."  He would
have given a stronger warning, but he did not want to raise
suspicions.  Fortunately, her smoking experience was limited enough
that the unusual symptoms alone did not seem to be alarming her at this
point.

Shelly stowed the packs in her purse as she held the cigarette in her
lips, taking another drag.  She pulled until she could hold no more
smoke, then inhaled as deeply as she could.  The warmth in her
increased in intensity and she wondered if she might get drunk from
this cigarette.  However, she could feel no impairment creeping in; if
anything her mind was becoming more alert, her senses sharpening as she
smoked.  She exhaled a flood of smoke from both nostrils and mouth this
time, obscuring Dr. Ryan's intense gaze.

As he watched, he was able to gauge her physiological signs pretty
closely even without instruments.  His right hand typed automatically
with his thoughts: "respiration and heartbeat depressed.  Mild
aphrodisiac effect.  CNS response normal or better.  Anaphylaxis
absent."

Dr. Ryan spoke rhythmically and quietly about nothing much as she
finished her cigarette.  Then, as she reluctantly stubbed it out, he
asked, "would you like to see how these were made?"

Shelly re-focused on Dr. Ryan.  She felt happy, alert, energized, and
somehow more of a match for the imposing doctor.  "Yes, very much."

"Then let's go to the lab."


8.  Rite of Passage

They stopped on the way to have "Mary Lou's" ID badge re-coded per Dr.
Ryan's earlier instructions.  Finally they came to a beige-painted
steel door which bore the universal biohazard symbol and many dire
warnings.

"This is the entrance to the BL4-P lab," said Dr. Ryan.  "That's
biocontainment level 4, plants, which is the most stringent protection
regimen.  Please insert your badge in the slot, Miss Demming."

Shelly did so, and the door gave a loud click and swung outward with a
soft hiss.

"You badge allows you unescorted access to the lab, Miss Demming, but I
am advising you now that you are not to enter here unless I am either
with you or already inside.  An e-mail confirming this instruction is
waiting for you back at your desk.  Is this understood?"

"Yes, Dr. Ryan."

"Then let's go in."

They entered a small room lined with ordinary-looking steel lockers.
"This is the outer changing room," said Dr. Ryan.  "I apologize that we
do not provide separate male and female facilities.  You will find
there are privacy curtains located at each end of the room."

"I know the procedure, Doctor, and I don't mind."  Shelly withdrew to
one end and pulled the curtain.  I hope he peeks, she thought,
surprising herself.  She removed all her clothes and stored them in a
locker, keeping only her ID badge.

Dr. Ryan's voice came through the curtain.  "Past this room are the
showers, and beyond that the inner changing room.  There is a sequence
of three showers.  All will come on automatically as you pass beneath
the heads.  The first two use a mild solvent and disinfectant.  The
third uses only distilled water.  Stand beneath the first two until the
spray cuts off by itself.  Under the third, wash thoroughly with the
provided soap.  The shower order reverses automatically when we leave.
If you don't want to shampoo, wear one of the hair caps...I always do,
and it provides a convenient place to stow your badge.  Just remember
to keep the cap on at all times until we leave the lab.

"I will go through first, then you follow after you hear the last
shower stop.  When you get to the inner changing room, take a set of
disposable clothing from any of the lockers."

Shelly located a head cover large enough to accommodate her hair and
waited while each shower started, then stopped.  Then she pulled the
curtain back and proceeded deeper into the lab.

The showers were lined up one after another down a short corridor.  The
first two smelled strongly of disinfectant and their discharge stung
her bare skin.  She was glad to have the opportunity to scrub herself
under the third shower.  She emerged into another locker room,
identical to the first except for a red-painted steel door leading into
the lab proper.  Dr. Ryan was waiting behind one of the curtains, and
Shelly found herself strongly tempted to pull it aside and reveal her
nudity to him.  What had gotten into her?

Instead, she closed the opposite curtain and opened a locker.  Inside
were a set of rudimentary undergarments, plastic shoes, and a green
Tyvek jumpsuit.  Skipping the underwear, she donned the shoes and
uniform.  Hardly sexy but quite comfy, almost like pajamas.

When she pulled back the curtains, she saw Dr. Ryan in identical green
garb and head cover.  "When we leave," he said, "everything except the
head cover is disposed of here."  He indicated an incinerator chute.
"Now, if you would please open the red door..."

Shelly fetched her badge from under the head cover and inserted it into
the door slot.  The way to the inner sanctum was opened.


9.  Fruit of the Rain Forest

They entered a circular, steel-walled room about 30 feet across with a
broad pillar in the exact center.  Three more doors (marked,
appropriately, "1," "2," and "3") were located at each of the other
compass points.  The room contained a bewildering array of
white-enameled devices, monitor screens, and other equipment which
looked entirely different from the pictures she had seen in the
microbiology text.  In one area were several wire cages containing
white mice.  Her spirits fell somewhat, and she hoped that Dr. Ryan did
not expect her to be familiar with any of this gear.

Noting her expression, Dr. Ryan said "All of the equipment you see here
was built to my specifications, and probably looks strange to you.
Actually, they are all far easier to use than the standard lab devices,
and in any event you will not be operating these except under my direct
supervision.

"In this central room we conduct primary research operations involving
rDNA and plant pathogens.  The equipment here is used primarily for
'snipping' DNA base pairs from plant nuclei, transferring those
sequences to bacterial plasmids where they can be replicated or
altered, and reinserting the altered sequences into experimental
samples.  We also have the capacity to create viral messengers for the
purpose of introducing foreign RNA and DNA sequences into host
organisms.  We use nothing here that can have any effect on humans,
which is why we are not wearing the Racal suits.

"Each of the numbered doors leads to a greenhouse, which is kept
environmentally isolated from the other greenhouses and, of course,
from the outside.  Only one greenhouse door at a time can be opened,
and careful regulation of air pressure insures that no seeds, spores,
or other materials can escape into this room.  Certain of our plant
samples are very fertile and could possible disrupt the local
ecological balance if allowed to escape.

"The central pillar provides the vacuum control system and outflow
exits for gaseous, liquid, and solid wastes.  Each exit is protected by
a series of redundant HEPA filters, insuring that all discharges are
entirely pure.  Anything that needs to be disposed of in here, aside
from clothing, must be placed in one of the chute doors on the pillar."

"Now if you please, Miss Demming, open the door to greenhouse number
one."

Curiously, Shelly did not find Dr. Ryan's brisk monologue as hard to
follow as she would have thought.  Her mind seemed more alive, somehow,
likely from the adrenaline rush she was getting from being in an exotic
and perhaps dangerous place.  She knew "rDNA" meant recombinant DNA, or
gene splicing, which was exactly what Brickman had sent her to find.
Excited now, she inserted her badge into the slot on door number one.

Beyond the door was a long room with curving, transparent walls and a
domed roof.  Bright sunlight illuminated three long rows of tobacco
plants growing in deep tubs of soil.  As she moved inside, Shelly
passed through a curtain of briskly moving air.

"The atmospheric pressure-barrier keeps the greenhouse isolated even
when the door is open," said Dr. Ryan.  "That eliminates the need for
clumsy airlocks within the lab."

Shelly looked up, noting that despite their transparency the walls and
roof were very thick and double-layered.  She also noted what looked
like a sprinkler system suspended high above the rows of plants.  "Are
those sprinklers for putting out fires?" she asked.

"No, they're for starting them," said Dr. Ryan.  Seeing her shocked
expression, he continued, "it's a last line of defense against
environmental contamination, and one not required by federal
regulations.  In the event of a major containment breach, the sprinkler
heads will dispense a high-pressure stream of liquid sodium onto all
biological samples in the lab and greenhouses.  Liquid sodium ignites
on contact with oxygen."

"But...what if I'm in here when it happens?"

"Don't be."  After a short pause, Dr. Ryan continued, "but that need
not concern you.  Small leaks are self-sealing, and it would take a
very substantial impact to create a large one."  He smiled.

"Now these," he went on, " are garden-variety nicotiana tabacum, the
kind you find being cultivated all over North Carolina.  These serve as
our control group and as a source of experimental samples.
Temperature, humidity, and soil conditions are controlled automatically
for optimum growing conditions.  These are pampered pants, never to be
harvested or smoked.  Let's move on to greenhouse number two."

The second greenhouse was structurally identical to the first, but the
plants growing here were very different.  While reminiscent of tobacco
in size and leaf-shape, their color was a deep purple Shelly had never
seen before in a growing plant.  The soil was odd, too...a
light-absorbing, purple-black loam.

"These are samples of the somewhat less common Rara Coelensis
Jacksonii, a subspecies discovered just ten years ago by the botanist
Russell Jackson," said Dr. Ryan.  "This species is found only in a
half-mile-square area in the Amazon basin...and in this greenhouse.
Both the soil and plants were brought here from the same location.
Without its native soil, the plant will not grow."

"What makes the soil unusual?" asked Shelly.

"The 'what' I will show you back in the central lab.  The 'why' is just
as interesting, and I will give you a clue.  This type of soil is found
only at the bottom of a circular depression about two miles across and
400 feet deep, in an almost inaccessible part of the Brazilian rain
forest.  Does that suggest anything you?"  Ryan was watching her
reactions closely, to see how persistent her mental stimulation would
prove.

"A crater?"

"Very good...a meteoric impact crater to be precise, and one less than
12,000 years old."

"So the soil came from the meteor?"

"Unlikely, though possible.  My thought is that a microorganism, a
bacillus most likely, was carried inside the meteorite.  Fossilized
bacteria have been found in meteors before.  This one survived the
impact and, through biological action, altered the local soil and
enabled the evolution of Rara Coelensis Jacksonii, or RCJ for short.
No other plant will grow in this soil.  I am convinced, however that
RCJ itself is not a 'visitor,' since it has clearly terrestrial
relatives elsewhere in Brazil.

"My theory is not provable though, since if there was a microorganism
it is long extinct.  And a good thing, too, since it might well have
converted all of the soil on earth by now.  And that, as they say,
would not have been good for business.  Now follow me back to the
central room, and I will show you what makes this soil unique."

Dr. Ryan led Shelly to a 30 inch color monitor mounted over the central
pillar.  It currently showed what looked like strands of black
spaghetti against a purple background.  "This is an enhanced image from
our scanning electron microscope.  The black strands are organic
molecules found in RCJ's soil.  They are composed of nothing more
exotic than carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, and some common trace
elements.  What is unusual is their length and complexity...they have
been polymerized, in a sense.  The book says you can't bind these
elements in this sort of configuration, not without creating the sort
of hydrocarbon compounds that are not friendly to growing things."

"So...if RCJ were to escape, it wouldn't be a problem, "said Shelly.
"It couldn't grow outside."

"That is true, but paradoxically RCJ is an otherwise amazingly hardy
plant.  Unlike other rain forest exotics, it can grow in a wide range
of temperatures, moisture conditions, and sunlight levels. It is also
very fertile; its seeds are lightweight and can be carried for many
miles on a light breeze.  That's how Jackson tracked it down in the
first place.  Except for the soil restriction, it could easily take
over all the arable land on earth in only a few years.  Suppose some
seeds got loose and then mutated?  A slight chance, but that also would
be bad for business."

"So what's the value of RCJ to us?"

"Good question.  It turns out that RCJ's DNA base pairs are 70 percent
congruent with tobacco's.  This means that creating a hybrid of the two
species would, under normal conditions, be quite simple.  However, the
soil problem remains.  In normal dirt, the RCJ characteristics would
remain dormant in the hybrid.  So, we must 'teach' RCJ to synthesize
it's own polymerized organics internally."

"How can you do that?"

"It's not as unlikely as it sounds.  Have you studied much about
introns?"

Shelly was surprised to find the relevant passage from the text come
immediately to mind.  "Those are DNA base pair sequences not associated
with specific protein functions."

"Very good.  Most geneticists believe introns are simply 'garbage'
code, or relate to features long superseded by evolution.  In some
cases they are no doubt right. But I have found that some introns are
associated with developing mutations, often beneficial ones.  One such
intron found in RCJ is clearly related to molecular synthesis of just
the sort we are looking for."

He lead Shelly to one of the complex devices lining the room.  "With
this device we can 'edit' and extract DNA, in the manner you proved
familiar with yesterday.  We are currently working on the RCJ
'synthesizing' intron, using a special potentiator I have developed.
It is a slow process, and will take some weeks or months before we see
any real results."  That was Dr. Ryan's first lie.

"Once we have an 'any-soil' version of RCJ, we can begin building the
hybrid.  Greenhouse number 3 is reserved for growing the completed
hybrid and is currently unused."  That was the second lie.

"Now for the final piece...why build such a hybrid at all?  For the
answer, we must examine our courageous 'volunteer' mice."  Dr. Ryan
chuckled at his own rare joke.

Shelly had a suspicion as to "why," but said nothing as they approached
the cages.  She noted that there was only one of the ominous sodium
sprinklers in the central lab, and it was located directly above the
mouse cages.

"Cages 'A' and 'B' contain mice born from the same litter.  Please tell
me your impressions of the mice in cage 'B', Miss Demming," said Dr.
Ryan.

"Well, they look sick...their eyes are dull...their fur is matted...and
they're barely moving.  What's wrong with them?"

"Absolutely nothing, Miss Demming, besides the fact that they are old,
more than 90 years old in mouse terms.  This is our control group, and
have been raised in a manner typical for lab mice.  Now look at the
mice in cage 'A'."

Shelly bent low to peer at the other mice.  Their white fur was thick
and glossy, their eyes bright.  They seemed to her uneducated
examination to be the perfect pictures of mouse health.  On closer
inspection, she found them a little disturbing.  Their small, pink eyes
focused on her in a unnerving way.  Their movements seemed deliberate,
even purposeful.  There was none of the aimless scurrying normally seen
from rodents.  In a food dish near the rear of the cage, she saw some
leafy, purple scraps.

"These mice have enjoyed a diet rich in RCJ all their lives.  As you
can see they have improved longevity, health, and even intelligence."
Dr. Ryan chuckled again.  "But do not expect to see RCJ at your local
salad bar any time soon.  Not only is it fabulously expensive at this
point, but it is also one of the bitterest foodstuffs on earth.  We had
to breed many generations of mice before we had a litter that would
touch it.

"Neither RCJ nor any variant of it will ever be an acceptable food for
human consumption, no more than is tobacco.  That means we must seek an
alternate way to derive its benefits in man."

"By smoking it," said Shelly.  She thought of the packs in her purse,
wanting one right now, but also fearing what it might do to her.

"Indeed.  The bitterness is largely removed in the curing and aging
process used to prepare the leaves for smoking.  Also nicotine
potentiates RCJ in the much the same way Valium does morphine.  And
RCJ, I believe, will neutralize or overcome the harmful effects of most
tobacco ingredients, making the two an ideal complement.

"So those cigarettes you gave me...are made with hybrid tobacco?"

"No, as I said the hybrid is yet to come.  Those cigarettes are 98%
tobacco with a small amount of pure RCJ added."  Two lies, here.  The
cigarettes were actually a 50-50 mix.  "Sorry, but we can't afford to
pass out any richer blends just yet!  But I think you agree that even
these are quite pleasurable."

"Yes, they are..."

"Speaking of which, that concludes our tour.  Would you care to join me
outside for a smoke?"

Previous part | Next part