Now, people could be bred specifically for the tasks required. Qualities envied in other species could be matched with the superior intellect of man producing unimagined benefits. It was so obvious as to be painful. A tool so awesome surely must have applications never yet conceived.

And as long as his fellow scientists ignored the path of the future, it would be up to him, Lucus Simpson to lead the way.

He looked back at the chromosome. Not alive, yet vital, vibrant, filled with possibilities, able somehow, by an incomprehensible blend of physics, biology and sheer magic to duplicate itself exactly, atom for atom, molecule for molecule, gene for gene.

A human chromosome. With a few stray genes added in. Taken from the blood cells of a horse.

It would develop no further. But others would follow. The tests would become more and more complex. But the first and most crucial stage had at last been reached, and banished from his own kind, he had been forced to develop the capability and the technology all on his own.

He had succeeded. He would continue to succeed. Nothing would stop him now.

It was some time later that Lucus Simpson emerged from the depths of his laboratory.

From the living room came the sounds of Chopin. His daughter Sherry paused in her practicing as she heard her father shuffling down the hallway to his room.

She sighed. He would be about due again. It had been almost a week. And it was her turn this time. Carrie had taken the last two sessions and had let her know in no uncertain terms that she wasn't going to go again until Sherry had taken her turn.