Scientist attacked by the bull he cloned

Dr Moreau is alive and well, it seems. Prof. Park Se-pill has been attacked by his cloned bull art Jeju National University in South Korea.

The man-contrived beast broke five of the scientists ribs and hurt his spine.

An official says:

 “Park was video-recording a black cow, which he cloned from species indigenous to Jeju four years ago, and all of a sudden, it charged and attacked him for 15 minutes. The 800-kilogram black cow is very strong because its cell donor was the best available. Park could not escape easily because he wore a special suit and long boots. He is now being treated at the university hospital.”

The report adds:

In 2009, Park cloned the black cow from a frozen cell, which was taken from a deceased animal as part of cloning work to technically “revive” the dead cow through the newly born clone. The 54-year-old said that the cow is now in a barn and no special measure will be taken despite the incident. “We didn’t have the cow neutered because we have to check its virility. Hence, it often gets very restless,” Park said.

And we thought butchering them was cruel…

This cloning cannot be stopped. On an island not all that far away:

There was blood, I saw, in the sink,—brown, and some scarlet—and I smelt the peculiar smell of carbolic acid. Then through an open doorway beyond, in the dim light of the shadow, I saw something bound painfully upon a framework, scarred, red, and bandaged; and then blotting this out appeared the face of old Moreau, white and terrible. In a moment he had gripped me by the shoulder with a hand that was smeared red, had twisted me off my feet, and flung me headlong back into my own room. He lifted me as though I was a little child. I fell at full length upon the floor, and the door slammed and shut out the passionate intensity of his face. Then I heard the key turn in the lock, and Montgomery’s voice in expostulation.

“Ruin the work of a lifetime,” I heard Moreau say.

“He does not understand,” said Montgomery. and other things that were inaudible.

“I can’t spare the time yet,” said Moreau.

The rest I did not hear. I picked myself up and stood trembling, my mind a chaos of the most horrible misgivings. Could it be possible, I thought, that such a thing as the vivisection of men was carried on here? The question shot like lightning across a tumultuous sky; and suddenly the clouded horror of my mind condensed into a vivid realisation of my own danger.

Ends of days, readers. End of  days…