he thirteenth cow filled two buckets with something that looked like
weak cocoa and smelled like stale tea.

But when a white-smocked University of California poultry specialist
entered the chicken house later in the morning, he found nothing but
normal, white fresh eggs in the nests. He finally arrived at the
conclusion that Solomon's old harem had known for some time; whatever
it was that Solomon had been gifted with, this new rooster just didn't
have it.

A rush call went out for a dozen of the precious store of golden eggs
to be sent to the testing labs down range.

Two hours later, Dr. Peterson, surrounded by fellow scientists, stood
before a bank of closed circuit television monitors in the Frenchman's
Flat headquarters building. The scene on the screens was the interior
of a massive steel-and-concrete test building several miles up range.
Resting on the floor of the building was an open, gallon-sized glass
beaker filled with the new version of Sally's milk.

Poised directly above the opened beaker was a funnel-shaped vessel
containing the contents of one golden egg.

Dr. Peterson reached for a small lever. By remote control, the lever
would gradually open the bottom of the funnel. He squeezed gently,
slowly applying pressure. An involuntary gasp arose from the spectators
as a tiny trickle of egg fluid fell from the funnel towards the open
beaker.

Instinctively, everyone in the room clamped their eyes shut in
anticipation of a blast. A second later, Peterson peered cautiously at
the screen. The beaker of milk had turned a cloudy pale blue. It
neither fizzed nor exploded. It just sat.

He levered another drop from the funnel. The stringy, glutenous mass
plopped into the beaker and the liquid swirled briefly and turned more
opaque, taking on more of a bluish tinge.

A babble of voices broke through the room when it was apparent that no
explosion was forthcoming.

Peterson slumped into a nearby chair and stared at the screen.

"Now what?" he moaned.

* * * * *

The "what" developed twelve hectic hours later after time lost
initially in shaking, bouncing and beaming the new substance on the
outside chance it might develop a latent tendency towards demolition.

Satisfied that whatever it was in the beaker wasn't explosive, the
liquid was quickly poured off into sixteen small half-pint beakers and
speeded to as many different laboratories for possible analysis.