"Oh, my. It has the saddest eyes I've ever seen," the female reporter said over her shoulder, smiling into her station's camera. She stroked the creature's nose.

"Yes," Dr. White agreed, without emotion. "Remember that its eyes are really irrelevant. Bos camelus-whitus is a laboratory specimen. It is no more a real living thing than any other human creation."

"Bos what?" asked the reporter.

"Camelus-whitus. That's its name."

The animal was in a low, straw-filled pen. Its head jutted out through a wide space in the metal bars. "Someone around here called it a BBQ earlier." The reporter pointed over her shoulder to where a group of white-coated technicians stood.

The name made Dr. White stiffen. She wanted to glare at the men in the lab coats but kept her anger in check.

"An earlier incarnation of the animal was part horse," she admitted through clenched teeth. "That would make it a member of the Equus genus. BostonBio Equus. BBQ. I never much liked that appellation, however. Particularly since it has no relation to the animal standing before you."

The creature let out a low, mournful moan. The reporter moved her hand away in surprise. Hesitantly, she returned to stroking the animal's nose.

"It sounds like it's alive to me." The reporter smiled.

Dr. Judith White closed her eyes. Her patience was wearing thin.

"What you are touching is technically referred to as a transgenic nonhuman eukaryotic animal. Yes, it is alive. But it has been brought to life by artificial means."