Somewhere in Arizona, inconspicuously protected from the blaze of desert heat, lies the body of Ted Williams, ordered cryogenically frozen by his son, John Henry Williams, for some undisclosed future experimentation.

	'Project Samuel' imagines cloning Ted Williams, something Ted's son apparently imagines, too.

If it seems straight out of a science fiction novel, well, apparently … it is.

Jack Polidero's "Project Samuel" -- the middle name of the Hall of Fame slugger -- was published nearly a year ago and tells the tale of cloning Ted Williams from DNA extracted from a hair follicle.

The story introduces an elderly barber with a shop near Fenway Park. Through the years, he has cut the hair of famed ballplayers and kept the tresses, as any true baseball fan would. A Texas oilman, eyeing the Nobel Prize, seizes possession of Williams' hair and begins secret work with a gang of biotech scientists to fertilize a human egg with the famous DNA.

In the following excerpt from "Project Samuel," the experiment is is about to come to fruition. A surrogate mother, Teresa Cordero, has been plucked from the pool of applicants and is awaiting the implantation of the embryo, unaware it has been injected with Williams' DNA. E. Royston MacDonald, the Texas financier and mastermind, is fretfully watching over the project, determined to see it succeed. He is mindful to remember the passing anniversary of Joe Rizzo, the Boston barber who collected Williams' hair. Jack Danton observes, as the biotech manager who has brought together the eclectic group of scientists.

Project Samuel, Chapter 27

Teresa Cordero had become comfortable with Roysten MacDonald and Dr. Sanchez, and after being accepted into the surrogate program, she was treated as royalty.

A tentative date was projected for the placement of a surrogate embryo in her uterus, although the actual procedure in the lab had not yet begun. Under the guise that she would be carrying an infertile couple's child, Teresa anxiously awaited the laborious clinical tests needed for the future intrauterine instillation of the developing embryo. Dr. Bradshaw of the fertility clinic, in collaboration with the other scientists, had retrieved an "extra" Vicky Palmer egg from the freezer in the reproductive physiology laboratory. The Palmers had no knowledge of this devious act. It would undergo the microinjection of the isolated DNA extracted from the hair in a vial labeled T.W.; a sample of which E. Royston MacDonald had acquired from the Rizzo collection. The DNA had been isolated by Dr. Johnson in the forensic lab downtown and transferred to the lab at the fertility clinic in La Jolla. The two "T.W." vials from different years matched in DNA sequencing. The dates were years that Ted Williams played for the Red Sox. It was naturally assumed that they contained his hair clippings and follicle cells in both vials, although there was no definitive proof of the supposition. Even if it was not Ted's sample, the DNA was from the same person. Since Joe Rizzo had told MacDonald that he used to cut Ted Williams's hair, the cloning team felt that it could be none other than Ted's hair in those vials.

With Ted Williams in his 80s and living in Florida, the only proof that the DNA from the vials was his from 40 years ago would be to compare the results to a current sample of DNA. MacDonald knew that it was out of the question. He had no way to do that. The plan was secretive and unknown to the outside world, including Ted's family. They could easily research his blood type, but that would not help in comparing his DNA of today with that of the vials in question.

What amazed the team was that they had actually managed to extract DNA from the hair. It was questionable in the beginning that the procedure would work. DNA from nonliving tissue is often fractionated and inappropriate for cloning studies. They attempted the DNA isolation and extraction anyway. The presence of hair follicles in the sample increased their odds of success.

Laboratory scientists in the preclinical animal lab had practiced placing other DNA extracts, obtained and isolated from a technician's blood sample, directly into rodent eggs. They were confident that they could also perform the procedure in a human ovum, since most mammalian eggs were of similar size and structure, whether mouse or elephant.

Royston had not told all of the team members that the egg was from Vicky Palmer's ovaries. The Palmers would eventually be blessed with twins generated from their own fertility procedure, and it was the number of children that they had hoped for. They naturally assumed that all extra eggs from her ovaries had been destroyed since they were unfertilized and there were no further plans by the Palmers to increase the size of their family.

"Dr. Sanchez, will I know the actual family that I am carrying the child for?" asked Teresa.

"No. I'm afraid that is confidential, Teresa," he said. "The parents would like to remain anonymous for the child's sake." He felt ashamed that he was lying to her.

"That is sad, doctor. But I would imagine that they probably think that I would want to keep it. This perhaps makes it easier for all concerned," she surmised. Tears formed in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Teresa. That is the way they wish to have it. We must honor their confidentiality. That is why we have strict rules and procedures. Some of those papers you had to sign."

Sanchez was remorseful over her duress. He knew that he was not being forthright with her, but could never divulge the source of the egg as Vicky Palmer's.

"Teresa, has your menstrual cycle been normal this month? I'm referring to the number of days," asked Dr. Sanchez.

"Yes, doctor," was the reply. "Nothing has changed."

"That is excellent, Teresa. Everything then, is proceeding well, and on target."

They would continue to monitor her cycle for another month, so that they were sure of the optimal time to introduce the egg into her uterus.

The embryo containing the extracted DNA from the T. W. vial would be transferred into Teresa's uterus three days after she had ovulated. At least that was the clinical plan. With her normal menstrual cycle of twenty-eight days, the date of her own ovulations would be anticipated to be around day thirteen or fourteen. The ovulations would be fairly easy to predict. Three to four days after that would be the time that her natural ovum would reach her uterus. Since she was not having sex, there was no chance that her own ovum would be fertilized or implant in the uterine wall. The uterus at day three after ovulation would be receptive to the DNA-altered egg. That would be about day seventeen of her cycle. By then, the uterine lining would be engorged with a blood supply to support the placental development and a fetus. Her natural hormone, progesterone, would have made the womb receptive to any developing embryo, including the one that the doctors planned to instill into her uterine cavity. The uterus was not fussy about whose egg it was, as long as it was of human origin.

The scientists involved were ready for the challenge. If successful implantation of the modified egg occurred and an embryo grew inside of her, they stood the chance of global praise for the accomplishment, or ridicule for playing God. Their success meant the Nobel Prize for medicine, they thought. That was always E. Royston MacDonald's dream. He had the money to buy success, both in laboratory equipment and scientific salaries. It was a small investment in biotechnology for him since he was filthy rich from Texas oil business. In his own devious mind, he was also now well on his way to buying, indirectly, a Nobel Prize.

In complete secrecy, the MacDonald team proceeded with the DNA modification of Vicky Palmer's ovum once it had been removed from its frozen state. The cryogenic medium that kept the egg viable was both nutritive and protective against freezing. Without that protection, it would self-destruct after thawing, splitting open and releasing its own nucleus into the solution in which it was maintained.

"Close the door and lock it, please," MacDonald said to the last scientist who entered the lab. Through a glass window, the group of scientists watched the trained technician work in a specialty hepafiltered laboratory hood and incubator. It was merely a sophisticated box with a vertical sliding front glass door and specialized gloves that maintained sterility inside the chamber. Filtered, purified air entered the chamber and the atmosphere was 100 percent free of solvents or other toxins and microbes.

"He's got the micro pipette ready for the replacement of the DNA," Royston said with exuberance. "Will you look at that? You can actually see the egg in the petri dish on the TV monitor above. Look up everyone."

No one spoke. Only MacDonald would comment. A special binocular dissecting microscope of the highest magnification was used to visualize Vicky Palmer's donor ovum in the dish. Once focused, the stereo-camera attached to the microscope projected a perfectly normal egg on the TV screen. A highly calibrated device guided the micropipette containing the DNA in solution toward the egg. It lay suspended in the nutritive medium that surrounded it. The dish was maintained at human body temperature, which is about 37 degrees Celsius. While a second glass pipette with suction gently held the egg in place, the fine-tipped DNA micropipette punctured the side of the egg with a pin prick. The technician, who had months of practice injecting mouse and rat eggs, expertly controlled the operation. This was a critical phase since he had never before attempted to remove existing DNA and then reinject new DNA into a human ovum. It seemed all the same to him because it looked like any other mammalian egg. Once the egg's outer lining (zona pellucida) was penetrated, the technician guided the probe into the center of the single cell. Vicky Palmer's own DNA was removed and subsequently the new T.W. DNA was deposited into the nucleus. Careful withdrawal of the micropipette was critical since the natural capillary action of the glass tube could remove some of the material that needed to be left behind.

"Damn!" said Royston with glee. "He did it? He actually did it?" Everyone remained silent until the technician turned and gave the thumbs up. He was hidden behind a sterile outfit of clothing and face shield. The still camera attached to the stereomicroscope captured the moment. A video camera recorded all of the transfer procedure for posterity. If the ovum survived the mechanical trauma and began to divide into multiple cells, the cameras would record that as well.

They viewed the modified egg for a moment and then the petri dish was placed back in the incubator to encourage the cellular division of the newly genetically altered egg. The entire procedure was quick and mimicked a single sperm fertilizing the ovum. Sperm normally cause a similar cellular reaction in natural fertilization. The puncture seals itself and a reaction takes place in the zona to prevent other sperm from penetrating the outer shell of the ovum. In that manner, only one sperm fertilizes an egg in natural mating. In a similar fashion, the micropipette and an electrical pulse mimicked the same reaction without the aid of a sperm.

Once the petri dish was returned to the incubator, the door was closed and a red indicator light lit up to maintain the temperature of the internal chamber. A separate ON/OFF indicator light showed that the unit was functional. The red thermostat light remained illuminated when it was heating. It went off when the preset temperature was maintained inside the incubator.

MacDonald began to jump around like a child and hugged the technician who emerged from the sterile laboratory. "You did it, kid. You made history today!"

The young technician beamed with pride. "Thank you, Mr. MacDonald. It was very much like the other eggs we've done before -- you know -- the mouse ova. I've done about a thousand transfer injections of mouse ova in anticipation of this day."

The scientists congratulated each other and accolades were passed around for a wonderfully coordinated team. Jack Danton stood in the corner of the room in awe of the whole event. He knew he was responsible for a portion of the project management that resulted in this phase being successfully accomplished.

Royston congratulated him on his contributions to the day's success. "Jack, it's all about to happen. We are one step closer to fame."

He looked back at the monitor and yelled, "Replay the bastard! Let's see the video again!"

With a click of a remote, a VHS video of the entire procedure was repeated. It was clear that no DNA nucleus material leaked after the egg was punctured. It's artificial fertilization at its best! Royston thought. Blackburn, Bradshaw and Johnson, the DNA expert, were elated. Other technicians approached MacDonald in unison and asked if T.W. stood for something. What was the source of the DNA that they had instilled in that egg?

Royston was silent and stared straight ahead. He looked at Jack Danton and smiled. He then looked at the other scientists and said quietly, while gesturing with open hands. "Gentlemen, there is reason to believe that we have created the first cloned human. That human is a 'noted' individual."

They looked at Royston with wonderment.

"Noted? Who is 'noted'?" they asked.

"Gentlemen, we have reason to believe that we have just re-conceived Theodore Samuel Williams, the noted Red Sox baseball player from Boston."

There were gasps among the crowd of technicians and junior scientists.

"Serious, sir?…the Ted Williams?"

"Yes, gentlemen. The Ted Williams. The Teddy Ballgame. The Splendid Splinter!"

"Sir?" asked the technician, who injected the egg.

"Yes, son?"

"But Ted is not dead, sir. He is alive in Florida. He is still alive! What if he finds out? Are you telling me I just created Ted's clone?"

"That is true, gentlemen. He is not aware of this feat today. He will probably never know of this feat. If we are successful with the pregnancy, there will be a genetic copy of Ted growing up in San Diego, just like the original Ted Williams did. If the Nobel Committee in Stockholm recognizes us for this accomplishment, they won't even know the individual's identity for years. We will not and cannot tell them. In time, they will know."

The room was silent since some of the team members were not aware of the DNA's origin. Most people thought it was Royston's DNA with other initials on the vial of hair designed to mislead them. Royston took command. "Gentlemen. You are not to say a word to anyone. Wives, friends, colleagues are off limits concerning this accomplishment today. Report back here tomorrow. That's twenty-four hours from now. If the egg has cleaved and divided into two cells, we will have been successful. If not, we have lost our first attempt to clone a human."

"All we can do is hope that it works," added Blackburn.

"Project Samuel," which is independently published by J.P. Polidoro, can be purchased through Longtail Publishing