The Crucible of Life: Echoes of Creation

Vincent felt that something was about to grow out from between his eyebrows. Finally at the end of his meditation, with sufficient mind power, the thing broke through and came into the real world.

Vincent saw the external world, not with his eyes or with the introspective senses that he had been using earlier. Instead, he was actually observing the world from an entirely different angle. His mind power had broken through the limitations of his body and was influencing the real world.

The real world that he saw through his mind power was made up of information formed by dots and lines. There were no colors or light, only information in the form of dots and lines.

From the moment Vincent extended his mind power to explore the world, he could feel a vast amount of external information flooding into his brain. The humidity of the air, the size of the room, and the length, structure, quality, and density of his bed all continuously gushed into his brain.

Suddenly, Vincent realized that he had never understood his room so well. However, the huge amount of information was too much for him to handle, causing him to feel as if his brain was going to explode.

Is this how the world looks like using mind power? The world is created from information!

After withdrawing his mind power, Vincent felt dizzy at once. Information from the whole world kept entering his brain. Although he enjoyed the feeling, he found it unbearable at the same time.

After Vincent had calmed down, he started to carry out his initial plan. He began to observe the inside of his body and the deep parts of his cells, just like how the insects queen did.

His mind power turned more refined and went deeper into his body. Vincent could see his body become continuously enlarged. He saw his muscles, blood vessels, blood, and then, his cells flowing. They looked like bubbles that converged into an endless stream of river, rushing into the distance.

As Vincent’s mind power ventured even further, he could see what was happening inside the cells. He found the nucleus, which was the small walnut-shaped tissue in every cell. The function of each cell was carried out by its cytoplasm, while the nucleus was its core. Deeper still, Vincent's mind's eye pierced the cellular cosmos, unveiling the nucleus, a walnut-shaped oracle in each microcosmic world. The cytoplasm, a bustling metropolis of life, carried out the will of this core, the nucleus, the keeper of secrets.

In the sanctum of his own flesh, Vincent's consciousness became a master sculptor, chiseling away at the veils of reality to reveal the hidden tapestry beneath. His body, a colossal universe unto itself, expanded under his gaze. Muscles rippled like mountain ranges, blood vessels branched like ancient forests, and his blood flowed like rivers of molten ruby, each cell a bubble in the cosmic foam, racing towards the edge of infinity.

With a will of iron and a focus sharp as obsidian, Vincent refined his mental prowess to a razor's edge and once again made his mind power even finer. At this stage, it was already extremely tough for him. His mind power had reached the realm of the microscopic world. This was the most magical and mysterious corner of the world. As compared to the macroscopic universe, humans were more interested in the microscopic world. The microscopic realm unfolded before him, a domain where magic and mystery danced in an eternal embrace. Here, the macroscopic grandeur of the universe paled in comparison to the allure of the infinitesimal.

At the journey's zenith, Vincent beheld the spiraling ladders of his DNA, the sacred scrolls of existence, inscribed with the enigmas of the human vessel. It was like a spiral staircase, and contained the greatest secret of the human body, it housed the quintessence of life, a repository of information that humanity had long sought to decode, yet the full understanding remained just beyond grasp. Human genetic materials were found here, as was all the information in the body. This was a mystery that mankind had always wanted to unravel but could not do so completely.

Elated, Vincent plunged his mind’s power into the genetic stream, where texts of visible lore flooded his consciousness. He continued straight in and saw an endless amount of information flooding into his brain in the form of visible texts. He felt as though he was standing naked in front of a long stream of information. An infinite amount of information dating all the way back to the beginning of life presented itself beneath his feet.

He stood, a lone observer, before the cascading waterfall of lineage, the chronicle of life from its nascent whisper to the thunderous declaration of the present.

 What were these? The memories of life? The echoes of existence? The memories of eons past?

Vincent saw the information about his ancestors and the beginning of mankind. He traced the silhouettes of his forebears, shadows cast by the dawn of mankind.  As he moved up the stream, Vincent could even see the shadows of people which were his ancestors. With each step upstream, the faces of his ancestors grew simpler, their garb morphed through the epochs, until he stood face-to-face with the dawn of his species. As he advanced further, their faces became simpler and unadorned. Their clothing also kept changing, and ultimately, he saw the primitive period.

He moved all the way from Homo sapiens to Homo erectus, Homo habilis, and Australopithecus. Then, Vincent realized that the road ended abruptly. he journeyed until the path vanished into the mists of time. There, at the precipice of prehistory, stood the archetype of man, the genetic Adam, beyond which no memory could sail. This was the first template of man and no more genetic backtracking was available.

“Was this the cradle of humanity? “

The other creatures that roamed the banks of this genetic river bore no mark of kinship with man. Vincent gazed upon the genesis and ascent of his kind, a slideshow of epochs that left him in awe.

Perhaps, this was actually the origin of man. The other species further up the stream already had nothing to do with mankind. Vincent could see directly the origin and evolution of man. It was like an enormous slideshow which greatly astounded him.

As he retracted his mind power, a vertigo of enlightenment gripped him, nearly casting him from his bed. He gasped for air, the weight of eons pressing upon his chest.

At the moment Vincent withdrew his mind power, he felt wobbly and feebly, nearly falling down from his bed. He covered his face and panted non-stop. It took him a long while to recover.

It was an age before his laughter echoed through the room, a sound born of revelation. He had touched the hem of evolution's robe and gleaned the arcane secrets of the helix. He felt that he had been to the edge of the evolution of man, and finally understood the secret of genes.

Vincent realized that the insects had actually changed their genes through pheromones after observing the secret of genes. Vincent had a more frightening thought, all because he had seen the genetic template of the ape-like ancestor in the deepest part of his genes.

The insects, those architects of pheromones, had rewritten their genetic destiny. And now, Vincent pondered a terrifying possibility. What if the genetic tapestry could be rewoven? If he told the gene that its progenitor was not an ape, but a Titan, a deity, or even a mythic dragon, what new form might humanity assume? Would such a metamorphosis herald a renaissance of atavism, birthing beings of legend and lore?

“What if he could rewrite the code of the genetic template? What if he could whisper a forgotten truth into the DNA, convince it that humanity's origin lay not with primates, but with these celestial beings?”

 A tremor ran through the labyrinth, the echoes of forgotten power stirring. Fear, cold and primal, gripped Vincent. He wasn't just tampering with genes; he was meddling with the very fabric of existence. Could humanity handle the awakening of a dormant god-gene? Or would it unleash chaos, transforming them into grotesque parodies of their mythical ancestors?

What if I just change the template? If I change the source of the genetic information and tell the gene that its ancestor is not an ape, but rather a Titan, or a god, or even a dragon in the legend, what will happen to mankind? Will it cause atavism, with man suddenly becoming extraordinary beings?

The thought thrilled Vincent, but he also felt that the task would be extremely challenging. Countless experiments would have to be done before he could realize his goal. Vincent was not even sure if it was feasible. Vincent's mind brimmed with exhilaration at the thought of his grand endeavor, yet a shadow of doubt lingered—could such a feat truly be within the realm of possibility? The path ahead was strewn with innumerable trials, each an intricate dance with the unknown.

In the secluded attic of his abode, Vincent had conjured a laboratory of his own making. It was not professional but a curious alchemy of the amateur and the avant-garde, boasting an array of biologically related apparatuses that were both costly and elusive. Yet, for Vincent, these tools were mere trinkets compared to the precision and potency of his mental faculties, he only required a few basic facilities, as his mind power was much more powerful in terms of accuracy and fine tuning. In particular, during observations, Vincent could accurately detect the changes in the experiment.

Amidst his collection lay a CO2 incubator, a bastion of life; a biological safety cabinet, guardian against the unseen; and an ultra-low temperature freezer, a crypt for preserving the essence of vitality and other equipment, as well as a wide range of consumables. These treasures, procured at the expense of his inheritance, were the lifeblood of his quest.

Vincent had practically used up almost all of his money, including the funds that his parents had left behind for him, in order to purchase all these items.

When Vincent made the investment, he had asked his primary school classmate, Walter, for help. Vincent attended primary school in his hometown. Back then, both of them had lived only a few hundred meters away from each other, and they were on good terms.

Walter was currently working as an assistant in a research institution that was jointly owned by a pharmaceutical company and the university. A Comrade from the days of youthful innocence. Now an aide within the hallowed halls of a research institution, Vincent and Walter had not seen each other for a long time, so Walter was rather amazed when Vincent suddenly contacted him.

The experiment commenced with a solitary mouse. That was right. A pitiful mouse lay on the lab bench, an unwitting pioneer at the frontier of genetic alchemy. Vincent, the architect of life, wove the tapestry of its genetic destiny with threads spun from his own imagination.

However, every time he altered it, the entire genetic chain would collapse at once. The blood in the culture flasks would also lose its bioactivity and was unable to tolerant such random alterations. With each alteration, the genetic lattice unraveled, a symphony of creation undone by dissonance. The lifeblood within the flasks grew still, unable to endure the capricious whims of change.

Vincent realized that the root genetic template must be logical. It must be something that he could understand too, or else it would result in a chain reaction that would cause the genes to collapse. A revelation dawned upon Vincent—the genetic foundation must resonate with logic, a harmony he too must comprehend, lest the cascade of life crumble into oblivion.

With newfound resolve, he embarked on a daring synthesis, melding the essence of humanity with the animal kingdom, He started to try putting the information of the human’s root template into the animals. After a series of experiments and trials, the genes of mouse-people were successfully created, a chimera of man and mouse.

Through the rite of polymerase chain reaction, Vincent immediately duplicated the genes of the Mouse-people, using which he created the first-generation Blood Plasma, a concoction of evolutionary promise. He named it the Mouse-people Blood Plasma. Yet, when injected into the bone marrow of its progenitor, the mouse met an explosive demise, and Vincent's heart plummeted into the abyss.

After being depressed for quite a while, Vincent felt that he might be able to breed a new generation of life from the embryo, instead of directly and brutally trying to modify the genes of a mature animal.

In the throes of despondency, an epiphany struck—perhaps life anew could be kindled from the embryo, a genesis akin to the fabled cloned sheep.

And as Vincent pondered this rebirth, a profound transformation unfurled within the painting space, heralding the dawn of an era unforeseen. At this time, a tremendous change in the painting space was noticed!