X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/year97/487801>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: sullivangm@aol.com (SULLIVANGM)
Subject: Hybrid Vigor 3/5

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?"

-- 
Story Submission:               <URL:mailto:story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
Moderator Contact:               <URL:mailto:story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
Newsgroup FAQ:          <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/faq.html>
Archive site (could be better): <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/>