It all had to do with DDT.

Her mother had explained it to her on several occasions during her frantically careening adolescence: she was the product of a global interaction of nature and science. Her immaculate femininity was a fragile arch spanning human biology and industrial technology, a bridge constructed before she was even born.

Her physical development had been influenced in utero by artificial hormones - synthetic estrogens, the scientific journals had called them. Mainly insecticides, their chemistry mimicked the effects of natural female hormones when assimilated into the human reproductive system.

The local ecosystem had been literally inundated with these complex molecules following a catastrophic industrial accident in the 1970s. Researchers noted their impact on the biosphere in the following decade, when ecologists began to notice declining male populations amongst certain environmentally sensitive species - mainly frogs and salamanders.

Of course, no one was too concerned over the disappearance of a few creepy crawlies at the bottom of the pond, and the effects of the synthetics had been largely ignored. At least until the fertility levels in the Courtland Valley had taken a sudden, and quite significant downturn. Then everybody had become concerned for the well-being of all kinds of creepy crawlies.

To say nothing of the rising numbers of sexually ambiguous children being born in Chamberlain and its surrounding districts...

Of which Tessa had been one.

Walking to the doorway, Tessa looked out to the set once more. Lights were being dimmed and brightened, remotes tested for whitenoise. CNL had spent a small fortune on this production; no expense had been spared in terms of design, personnel, and hardware. They were even shooting a portion of the commercial on film, so as to capture the cinema crowd.

Things look as busy out there as they do in here, she thought, watching a tekkie running a white balance on one of the steadycams.

Feeling a light tap on her forearm, she turned and found herself eye to eye with the director's assistant. She was a small, bright-faced woman in a blue pants suit, carrying a clipboard full of names and publicity stills. Her name tag read 'LOIS.'

"You're ... Tessa?" she asked offhand, consulting the clipboard. Her voice was brisk but otherwise pleasant.

"Yes, Tessa Greenhart, Chamberlain Studios."

"And - that's what you're wearing for the shoot?" the woman inquired, indicating Tessa's flimsy lace scanties.

"Yes, it is," she replied, putting a hand to her mouth to hide her smile. She could feel a giggle fluttering around the top of her throat, trying to escape. "My agent told me to wear my prettiest undies today."

"Nice choice," Lois remarked, indulging her with an admiring glance, then snapped back to her more business-like protocol, "we're ready to start filming. You ready?"

Tessa took a deep breath. The others were already filing towards the door, gossiping like schoolgirls out on the town. Tall and leggy and beautiful, they had nothing to feel nervous about; they got to keep their clothes on.

I wish, Tessa thought, and the giggle finally escaped.

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