You work out which part of its natural physiology that you want to enhance, get an expert like a vet to tell you which DNA cells you need to do it, buy them and a vector, get the vet to inject it all into your horse, and Bob’s your Uncle and the loch ness monster’s your art, and all of a sudden you’re riding high, and ripping in sub 50’s in trials.
It really isn’t hard.
Just getting the juice is.
But once you have that, then the keys are to heaven are yours.
A vector sounds like a spaceship, but its not, it’s a specially prepared non-infectious virus that your chemist cooks up to pack the genes you want to whack your horse with inside. You have to do this – use the disease as a carrier – because these cell buggers are free spirits who like to run their own races, and they won’t naturally bond or bind.
That’s where the shockwave comes in.
You bang a recalcitrant hoodlum of cells with it, and the hard men suddenly go all wobbly and get sent into a trance. You keep doing it and they stay deeply stoned, for long enough that the new genes your scientist has hidden inside the vector virus can jump out, sneak through the calm shock induced night, and jump right into the gene pool with the stunned cells.
When the shockwave stops and they all wake up, the dracula type body part of the injected horse that used to be able to produce XYZ red blood cells per second, can now produce 123 more.
Do you remember that old movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and the ever-lasting gobstopper?
Well this is the milkshake that flows forever, and all you need is a shockwave machine, a smart bent vet, a source, the sauce, and a single needle.
If the vet does it right, you never need a tube or drugs or any banned substance ever again in your horse’s life.
The DNA/Cell shot IS the gear, and its effect works forever.
This is gene doping in a nutshell, and if you think horses are suddenly pacing 2 and 3 seconds than they – or in the cases of Lochinvar Art and Ride High, any horse – ever has before is simply because the breeds getting better, or the weather’s right, or just because, just because, because, because, then you’re the nut from the shell.
Certain high class horses from top stables here, there and somewhere else have been given illicit injections of vials of cells designed to turn them superstars, and the spike they’ve been shot with works, and is totally untraceable, and lasts for life.
You are not racing horses anymore, you are racing genetically modified cyborgs, and whether you believe it and like it or not, it’s a fact.
The FBI know it, and so do the task forces here that they are working with.
I’m not privy to their take on the matter, but my guess is that the more clever among them are saying holy shit, other than picking up people by virtue of treachery or luck on phone taps, how are we ever going to hold back this crazy strong tide?
The simple answer is that they are not, and nor are we.
Gene manipulation is the future of the human race.
Most people don’t know it yet, but the Human Genome Project changed everything, the way we live, who we are, our future. The whole course of the human race.
We now how the human body works, and what it is made up of. Every single cell in our bodies have been identified and mapped, and those smart enough to grasp the enormity of it have a perfect blueprint to rebuild our bodies, and to artificially create a replica human being, without any form of conception required.
I kid you not. Google it. Human Genome and Artificial Intelligence. Its no mumbo jumbo, its cutting edge mainstream science, and its real.
Knowing how to build a human and doing it though are two different things. Cells are little live creatures, and like people you can’t predict exactly how they are going to act or react when you artificially produce them and piece them together, and that’s the issue he most brilliant scientists in the world have been conducting all types of tests and experiments over the past two decades trying without success to get it right.
It’s also the reason that DNA manipulation – gene doping – is banned in racing, because the science isn’t exact, and the side effects can’t yet be controlled.
Side effects like working the body too hard and breaking down, or dropping dead from the blood getting too thick to flow, or accidentally creating cancer in the process of mutating the cells.
It’s all still in the testing phase, and is likely to be for years to come, but one day the modern Einstein’s are going to nail it, and that day will be the one that forever changes life as we know it, and when long dreamed of possibilities of things like curing cancer, and living 200 years or more become humdrum everyday realities, no-one is going to think too much about the pre-approval era gene doping of pacers anymore.
Until that day though, harness racing is at the cutting edge.
Somehow – almost certainly through the mafia, the real one, whose rivers flow deep through US harness racing, and near certainly stretch down through the Southern Hemisphere games too – the experimental gene manipulation therapies have become available to a select group of elite harness race trainers whose operations are big enough to afford to buy them, and who are flexible enough to accommodate the after-sale price, which is washing black money and growing it white by betting on their superequine steeds.
A number of the chosen ones are using it too, hitting their horses once and then casting aside the needle forever. The animals they inject rise from lameness, miraculously organically self-heal injuries not long before rated irreparable, improve their ability to run a mile by seconds, run faster than any horse has ever run before.
The evidence is all in front of you, everywhere you look.
You’ve seen Poppy and Gammalite, fed on old films of Cardigan Bay, Bret Hanover, Niatross, Albatross and the like, stood in awe at the track watching Black’s a Fake create history by snatching four ID’s.
Do you really think that two horses can come along in one generation and suddenly start doing things so much better than these champions did that the modern day heroes all of sudden sit so far above them in the pantheon of greatness that their names can’t even fairly be mentioned in the same breath?
C’mon, be real.
You are telling me that Lochinvar Art and Ride High are fifty metre better horses than any of those that I have mentioned, than anything that has ever raced ever on this continent or on New Zealand’s shores?
Their times say that they are.
Fifty metres better than Poppy, than Paleface, than Blackie, than Pure Steel, than Chokin or Christian Cullen, or Our Sir Vancelot and Quinnie, than even Lazarus?
Numbers don’t lie. The times say it.
But do you believe it?
But I know that its true, and that I can’t stop it, and neither can you.
Before you shout bullshit, just ask yourself this.
If you were dying of cancer, and I came along with a little vial of cells packed inside a virus, and told you that if I whacked this into you your cancer would go away, and you’d live for ten years in a physical state thirty years younger, you wouldn’t beg me to shoot it straight up your arm?
Of course you would.
This is gene doping.
It’s the most important scientific breakthrough in history.
You can’t beat a gene doped trying flying horse unless it breaks down or has a heart attack or stroke, you just can’t, it ain’t possible.
But the Stewards can’t detect which ones are and aren’t.
You don’t need drugs anymore, all you need it this, it’s the magic potion.
There is no way to find it, there is no way to beat it, so there is only one way left.
To join it.
Gene therapy for standardbred horses must be legalised, come what may.
I hate it, but we have no other choice.
Pretty soon now the flying super horses are going to be breaking world records on tracks like Melton and Albion Park, and obliterating them at Menangle. And as the cell manipulator’s knowledge increases, they will go faster, so fast that before you know it mile rates of 1.40 will be deemed fast, but not speeding.
Reject what I am telling you at your own peril.
Open your eyes and look around.
We knew what, and why, but we didn’t know why.
Now you do.
The who and where are still outstanding questions, but common sense might give you a fair clue.
We can fight the tide and watch as they take it all, until there is nothing left and the whole thing dies.
Or we can take a huge gasp, and a reality check, and see the futility of fighting the future, and open the floodgates so that everyone is fighting fair.
We have to.
There is no other way.