actually a hormone."

"I know. You wanted to call it that for secrecy, you told me."

"Yes, sir, but I didn't tell you what it really was. Mr. Parry, are you familiar with hypnotics? Mescaline, especially?"

"No, I'm not, Frank."

"Well, it's a drug that causes strong hallucinations. This is a chemical derivative of it."

Amos grinned again. "Pipe dreams for hogs?"

He quit grinning as implications struck him. If this thing didn't pan out, after the money they'd spent and the rumors that had seeped out, there'd be some nasty questions from Buffalo. And if it did, and they began selling it....

"What would it do to human beings?" asked Amos.

Barnes avoided his eyes. "That's one of the things I'm worried about," he said. "I want to show you another pig."

This one was isolated in its own pen, and it looked even stranger than its siblings. In the first place, its hair was thicker, and black. There was an oddness in its shape and a vaguely familiar sinuousness in the way it moved that made Amos' skin prickle.

"What's wrong with it?" he asked.

"It's healthy except for the way it looks and acts."

"Same litter and dosage?"

"Yes, sir—all of them got just one dose. The effects seem to be permanent."

They were leaning over the fence and the animal was looking up at them. There was an oddity in its eyes; not intelligence exactly, but something unpiglike. Abruptly, it stood up on its hind legs, putting its forefeet against the fence and raising its head toward them. It squealed as if begging for attention. Amos knew that pigs made affectionate pets. Drawn to it as well as repelled, he reached down and patted it, and the squealing stopped.

It was standing too easily in that position, and suddenly Amos recognized what was familiar about it. He jerked his hand away, feeling a strong desire for soap and water. "How long's it been this way?"

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