Dr. Birrel was chuckling heavily, voice like warm oil. "Well, Mr. Koeppels, you seem entranced by my daughters. I am sure they appreciate that unconscious compliment, and I believe they reciprocate, judging by their expressions."
The sisters pinkened, spread out more. Yuri. managed to stammer something, pulling his jaw up. The three had the same face, barring slight differences in complexion and freckles—the redhead had a delightful crop of freckles across nose. The brunette paced forward on her tiny hooves, like a girl very high spring heels; only she moved with a lithe grace, as if springs were built into her legs.She looked up into his wide-open face, grin widening. "I'm Pepper, and you're all right." The other girls crowded up with the same high, mincing steps and introduced themselves, the ice broken. Yuri found one almost too much; three definitely so. While he tried to say hello to each one and introduce himself to them all once, Pepper stepped forward and poked at his stomach with a stiffened forefinger. He tightened his diaphragm by reflex and she nodded in pleased approval. Ginger spread her hands to measure his shoulders, head on one side, eyes sparkling. They were green, he noted; Pepper's black; Sugar's, pale blue. Sugar brushed back a lock of his hair over his ear. Feeling a little weak in the knees, Yuri tumbled back into the lounge he did not remember having left. Dr. Birrel's chuckle had become genuine laughter; his great bulk heaving, he said, "Enough, girls. Let him get his breath."
The girls were a little pinker, but still bright-eyed. Pepper, overcome with sudden bashfulness, trotted over to His lounger and straddled the arm. Ginger went a little way out in front of Yuri's lounger and sat cross-legged on the floor. He noticed dazedly that they had short tails covered with that soft fur, that worked back-and-forth with each step. These were short enough not to get in their way when they sat down, yet long enough for them to switch delightfully when in the mood, as Pepper was. Sugar, though a little abashed by her own boldness, did not retreat. She climbed op on Yuri's lounger arm, hooves almost under her, knees almost in his lap. He stared at the soft, almost white fur that covered them. It was silk-fine, with a tittle curl at the end; if it had been longer it would have been wavy. Her hair was even more curly; like all the girls', it was a cloud of ringlets all over her head and spilling down on her neck.
"Surely this can't be biomorphics, sir," he gasped at last. "Not in one jump! Plastic surgery?"
"That is your first coherent sentence, young man; perhaps it will be recorded in history. You're quite right," He said, sobering but still with a current of amusement in His voice. "They are synthetics. Androids."
There was a little silence while Yuri stared again. "Really?" he whispered, looking at the sisters in turn.
"But how'd you ever do it? Why, Von Brauchitch claims that advanced animal life won't be synthesized in this century. Some researchers say that intelligent life is so complex we'll never be able to duplicate it."
"We know," Ginger told him. "We read all such reports and interviews. They're a storm." Yuri had to grin; under the circumstances, they must be.
Dr. Birrel smiled fondly at her. "The process is adapted from biomorphics, but the result is equal to anything biosynthesis promises. General-human DNA of the sort used in orthosomatics is the starting point. As you know, such DNA chains contain the entire gene print for a human being except for the personal characteristics: hair color, complexion, shaape of face, et cetera. The Rodman effect, which makes possible the duplication of molecules without knowing their structures, is not perfect; on such complex molecules, the fine details are lost. The process itself is something like biomorphics, since it involves the synthesis of transformation DNA and the mutation of the genetic pattern with it; but the transformation is done outside the cell, and the desired transformations are carried out, one at a time, on the same DNA chain. That is, after every half-dozen or so transformations; and since there is only one work-piece, there is no need to crossbreed to fix genes until the final form is reached."
"I think I see," said Yuri, eyes lighting with excitement. "Your transformation DNA is, say, a copy of the gene that builds horns in certain kinds of goats; it is brought against the work-piece, where it attaches itself to the genes that define the head. Next you reshape the feet into hooves, displacing the old genes; and so on until you have the complete pattern for your android. After that you synthesize a cell around the new nucleus."
"For us, the term is capriform android," Ginger told him.
"It may not be genuine biosynthesis, but it beats what they call controlled mutation," said Sugar.
"Imagine trying to produce us by any such inefficient methods!"
"Or anything, human or animal, half so attractive," grinned Ginger.
"He notices that," Pepper told her, cocking her ears and an eyebrow at Yuri. Yuri reddened, then still more as Sugar patted him on the head, saying, "Don't, Ginger, Pepper; he was nice to you." He had such a bewildered and hunted look that Sugar felt a surge of warm sympathy; she wanted to cuddle him to her and soothe him. It was what He called mother-love, and it hit you all-of-a-sudden, and it always felt wonderful, but it was always disconcerting.
"I can have them put on blouses if you wish," He chuckled. Yuri reddened again. "Oh no, this is all right. Uh, you called them capriform androids," not looking at Ginger. "That means goat-shaped, doesn't it? Why this particular shape, Dr. Birrel? In fact, why androids at all? You know a lot of people are going to scream about that. They have religious, or philosophical, or moral scruples against synthetic life in general and androids in particular. You know the kind I mean. It might have been better to start with animals."
The girls were obviously amused at the thought of that kind of people. "Religion, philosophy, or morals; whatever they call it, the true name is fear," Dr. Birrel declared. "They're afraid they'll be replaced by some strange life form, some monster. It's a foolish fear; anything made by men is going to be acceptable to Man. But no real significant improvements can be made in plants and animals except by accident until we have that elegant solution. Human beings, on the other hand, are adaptable enough so that a slight improvement becomes highly significant. The girls' purpose is to break down the public's resistance to the idea of such improved human races. I look forward to a species-pluralistic society, containing mermen, say, mermen capable of adapting to extremes in atmospheric pressure; desert dwellers; cold-climate dwellers with fur; high-gravity men, and so on. Such a society would me much more interesting than one; so we'll need a multiplicity of subspecies when we reach the stars. In fact, we'll breed them normally, so we don't synthesize them."
"Well, why this particular shape? Not that I'm objecting," glancing quickly at Sugar, who smiled sweetly. "But why not a normal human shape to break the ice?"
"Because we're specially designed for entertaining," said Ginger, rolling to her feet in one smooth motion. She clicked across the floor to a round, six-foot stage, raised a hand's-width above the floor. It was wood, damped to kill resonance. The sound of her hooves on the floor made Yuri peer closely at her feet, then glance at Sugar's and Pepper's, both of whom moved as silently as ghosts. Sugar laid one ankle on the other knee, extending her tiny hoof toward him. Each half of it was covered with a crescent of soft rubber, held on with stasite, the stuff used on nail masks. "We're genuine hoofers," said Sugar, clicking her toes together and smiling at Ginger, who erupted rather like an ancient machine gun.
In a human being it might have been called a tap dance, but the more he saw of it, the more Yuri doubted that any human could have done it. The girls were almost fantastically lithe. You might almost expect them to walk around in a perpetual crouch, though they stood as straight as so many elm trees.