Chapter 936: The Early Version of Monsanto
Joseph's eyes lit up instantly. "What sugar content have you managed to achieve?" he asked.
Achard’s face beamed with pride. "Eleven point five percent, Your Highness. It's already very close to the twelve percent mark."
A twelve percent sugar content was the strategic objective Joseph had assigned to him. Although the three-year deadline was still far off, Achard had essentially succeeded ahead of schedule.
He had been quite fortunate. After conducting a massive number of experiments involving hybridization, selection, and trait fixation based on the genetics Joseph had taught him, he discovered an exceptionally superior beet plant early last year.
Its sugar content reached a staggering 11.5%.
Achard continued, "As long as we implement stricter seed management systems from now on, the Prussian sugar beets won't stand a chance of being competitive in the short term."
The beets currently being smuggled by the Prussians only had a sugar content of about 8%.
Achard’s new variety boasted a sugar content that was nearly fifty percent higher. In terms of actual profit, the advantage was far greater than just fifty percent.
Because the efficiency of refining equipment, processing time, and transportation costs would all be significantly reduced, this new variety would provide a crushing advantage in the market.
Achard was overjoyed. "I truly do not know how to express my gratitude, Your Highness!"
He then began to describe the intricacies of his hybridization experiments. Joseph quickly found himself completely lost in the technical jargon.
Indeed, Joseph realized his own understanding of biological hybridization had already been surpassed by Achard.
One could never underestimate the geniuses of this era; once they grasped advanced concepts, they could quickly surpass their teachers through their own brilliance and tireless research.
"I also discovered a very peculiar phenomenon."
Just as Joseph was considering how to conclude the conversation, Achard spoke up again. "The newly bred beet plants are very strange. They can only reproduce with their own offspring. If crossed with other beet varieties, the resulting seeds produce severely deformed offspring.
'I believe this is a new field in genetics that requires serious study...'
Joseph paused, raising a hand. "Wait. You said earlier that this particular beet appeared suddenly? That the plant is very sturdy, with thick, dark green leaves?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"And at the same time, it cannot reproduce with the older varieties?"
"Precisely."
Joseph smiled. "Monsieur Achard, if I am not mistaken, you have likely obtained a polyploid plant—specifically a tetraploid."
The botanist blinked in confusion. "What is a... tetraploid?"
"Or perhaps an octoploid, or even a hexadecaploid." Joseph pulled over a sheet of paper, recalling his high school biology knowledge. "We must start with the concept of chromosomes."
He began to sketch. "Look here. This is a plant cell. Inside the nucleus, there is hereditary material—these are the chromosomes.
"However, a cell nucleus doesn't necessarily contain only one set of chromosomes.
"Under certain rare circumstances, two, four, or even dozens of sets can be packed inside.
"This doesn't change the species of the plant, but it does cause them to display different physical traits.
"Typically, this results in a taller plant, thicker leaves, and higher yields.
"In fact, one can even induce polyploidy artificially. I recall using colchicine, though the exact method is..."
Joseph realized he might have said too much and waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, that’s not important. Do you understand the concept of polyploidy now?"
Achard asked a few more clarifying questions before finally nodding. "I think I understand what polyploidy is, Your Highness."
"Good. Then let’s move on to the next point." Joseph drew a diagram of a tetraploid and a diploid. "These are plants of the same species but with different numbers of chromosome sets. If they cross-pollinate, what do you think will happen?"
Achard was quick to extrapolate. "It would produce a new triploid plant, Your Highness."
"Exactly! Now, what would happen if those triploid plants tried to reproduce with each other?"
Achard frowned. "According to the meiosis model you taught me before, such a plant shouldn't be able to pair its chromosomes... An odd number of chromosome sets cannot be split evenly to combine into new chromosomes for the next generation. It's like having three socks; they can't be paired into neat couples..."
He suddenly looked at Joseph in shock. "You... you've explained why the newly bred beets cannot reproduce with the old varieties!
"Oh, Heavens! I thought this was some brand-new field of discovery, yet you knew the reason all along!"
Joseph smiled and crossed himself, playing the part perfectly. "These are all revelations from God. I am merely conveying them to you."
He shifted the topic back to business. "While a triploid cannot reproduce, it can still grow normally. That is to say, a triploid sugar beet can still grow its root tubers.
"And the sugar is all stored within that root."
Joseph vaguely recalled that sterile plants like triploids or pentaploids often grew more robustly because they didn't waste energy producing seeds.
Achard’s reaction was lightning-fast. He immediately realized the implications.
"So, we can keep the diploid and tetraploid plants for ourselves. In our breeding laboratories, we can produce triploid seeds on a massive scale and give those to the farmers to plant.
"The farmers will get their root tubers, but they will have no seeds for the following year."
In a controlled environment with limited acreage managed entirely by breeding lab personnel, smuggling an entire beet plant was almost impossible.
Joseph nodded. "We could even sell the seeds directly to the Prussians."
Indeed, Prussian farmers would find it impossible to refuse seeds that produced beets with a 12% sugar content.
It was foreseeable that before long, all the sugar refineries in Prussia would choose their machinery and design their production processes based on a 12% sugar standard.
The advantages in cost and profit were simply too massive to ignore.
Once that happened, even if some people still held beets with 8% sugar content, they would find it difficult to find a refinery willing to process them.
Ultimately, the Prussian sugar industry would become heavily dependent on French seeds.
At that point, France could attach strings to the sale of those seeds—just as the biotechnology giants of the future would do.
For instance, they could mandate that the sugar produced must be traded on the Paris Futures Exchange. Naturally, to lower transaction costs, they could also open a French-controlled Bavarian Futures Exchange.
They could even stipulate in the seed contracts that the produced sugar must not be sold to Great Britain.
The Prussian government would then be forced to deploy its own police force to ensure no one violated these contracts. After all, the livelihoods of countless Prussian farmers would depend on whether they could secure seeds for the following year.
'Russia is also suitable for growing sugar beets; we can sell to them as well,' Joseph thought.
In his original world, Russia eventually became the country with the largest sugar beet cultivation area in Europe.
As sugar beet yields continued to rise, the dominance of the "Sugar Franc" would only become more secure.
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