Chapter 266
Diana's finger traces through the air. "We disguise it, craft keys for it, even attempt to break through the wall. But a wall remains a wall—it has its own defense mechanisms."
Everyone holds their breath, listening to this subversive questioning.
"What if... we don't deliver the message?" Her voice drops like a stone into deep water. "What if the messenger itself is the information? We don't need it to enter—we only need it to 'vibrate' at a specific frequency outside the door."
Her fingertip glides across the light screen. The complex viral vector model is erased, replaced by concentric circles like sound waves.
"The cell membrane isn't inert. The ion channels on it constantly open and close, like countless tiny tuners. If we could find that unique resonance frequency, we could make the 'directive' directly transcribe itself inside the cell—without any physical contact."
She suddenly stops.
Her finger suspends in midair, gaze locked intensely on those simple concentric circles.
Resonance... transcription...
Not delivery, but awakening.
The "World" project has always been built on the logic of "editing" and "repairing"—using external force to correct internal errors.
But what if life itself already has all the correct programs built in, just silenced, just locked away?
Pin-drop silence fills the main control room.
The young scientists watch that almost divine focus on Diana's face, not daring to breathe.
They know they're witnessing the birth of a great idea.
A moment later, Diana snaps back, her tone returning to its usual calm. "That's all for today. Continue optimizing the penetration model as a backup plan."
She turns and leaves, abandoning a room of shocked and bewildered "students."
Seven PM, residential area.
Dinner is puff pastry baked sea bass with pan-seared asparagus.
Diana eats absentmindedly, knife and fork stopping in midair several times, eyes unfocused.
Rupert naturally swaps his cut fish with her untouched piece.
"Fish gets fishy when it cools."
Diana comes back to herself, silently tasting a bite of his prepared fish.
"I may have been thinking wrong from the start." She suddenly says.
Rupert pauses, waiting for her to continue.
"The essence of 'Genesis' is rewriting. But the deepest code of life might reject any forced writing."
She tries to use language he can understand to describe this budding idea. "It's more like a precision instrument. One wrong note makes the entire piece go off-key. We've been trying to pick out wrong notes and re-embed them, but maybe... we only need to guide it to self-calibrate by sounding the correct pitch beside it."
She sets down her knife and fork, looking directly at him. "This is just a vague concept, with no theoretical support. It even contradicts the 'entropy reduction directive' model I built. Everything would start from zero. We might waste massive resources only to prove this path doesn't work."
She finishes and quietly waits for the expected questioning.
But Rupert asks nothing.
He simply picks up his napkin to wipe his mouth. "What do you need?"
Diana freezes.
"I need... an independent experimental environment. The new model is extremely unstable and might conflict with the main database. I need a 'sandbox' where I can conduct unlimited destructive testing without affecting the main project's progress."
Rupert takes out his phone, glances at it, and issues brief instructions.
The entire process takes less than ten seconds.
"Main laboratory, west side, Area B-07. Former backup warehouse. Frank's already clearing it. The construction crew will renovate it to 'The Nest's' standards tonight. In three days, you'll have a brand new, physically isolated laboratory."
He pauses briefly, adding, "Athena will configure an independent quantum computing cluster for you. Resource permissions unlimited. You only need to tell it how much energy your 'tuning fork' needs to operate."
Diana gazes at him.
Watching him promise a cost-unlimited future for her immature, even crazy idea.
He uses the most direct action to clear every real-world obstacle for her wild imagination.
"Prof. Schultz said we've built a school."
He looks up at Diana, a barely perceptible smile in his eyes.
"Then allocating a dedicated classroom for a new course that might change the world, taught by the school's founder—perfectly reasonable."
Seventy-two hours. Area B-07 laboratory transforms from a designation into a real, independent kingdom.
The air filtration system here operates with molecular-level precision.
Diana stands at the center of the "sandbox."
Before her, a highly magnified neuronal cell model hovers on the holographic light screen.
"Athena, initiate Awakening Protocol. First simulation."
"Received. Awakening Protocol initiated. Loading frequency model... Target: SN-734 silenced gene locus. Beginning resonance waveform output..."
Invisible ripples composed of pure data spread from a virtual "tuning fork."
No attempt to penetrate the cell membrane—just gently brushing past.
Data streams on the light screen begin refreshing frantically.
Inside the previously dormant cell, from an imperceptible point, light instantly ignites, rapidly filling the entire cytoplasm.
"Simulation complete."
"SN-734 gene locus activated. Directive transcription success rate: ninety-nine point nine seven percent. No physical invasion. Cell membrane integrity is one hundred percent. No immune response triggered."
Diana's pupils contract slightly.
She succeeded.
This isn't just a technical breakthrough—it's a complete overthrow of fundamental logic.
"Athena, encrypt and send preliminary data and the new model's theoretical framework to Rupert. Mark as 'Prologue.'"
"Directive executed."
...
The Russell Group, top-floor boardroom.
The atmosphere is tense.
Around the long oval conference table sit over a dozen directors controlling various territories of The Russell Group's vast commercial empire.
They look at the young man in the head seat, eyes full of confusion and doubt.
"Fifty billion dollars in startup capital, injected into a... 'bioacoustics' project that doesn't even have a product prototype?"
A silver-haired veteran director, Gage Ramirez, can't help speaking up.
He has some seniority to fall back on. "Rupert, I'm not questioning your vision. But this project sounds... too ethereal. The Russell Group does tangible business, investments—we don't sponsor Nobel Prizes."
Another director responsible for the venture capital division immediately chimes in. "Mr. Ramirez is right. I reviewed the project proposal—only a code name, no specific content. This doesn't meet our investment protocols. We need to at least see market prospects, competitive analysis, and profit projections for the next three years. But this document has nothing—just one line: 'Defining the Future.'"
"Defining the Future?" A younger director, Toby Jenkins, scoffs. "That sounds more like a PR slogan than a business plan worth betting billions on."
The boardroom buzzes with discussion, all voices in opposition.
Rupert listens quietly until all voices subside, then looks up.
"Mr. Jenkins, ten years ago, you spearheaded the strategic investment in Nokia, reasoning that its Symbian system had the world's highest market share. I read your report at the time—very impressive. Your conclusion was that it would dominate mobile communications for the next decade."
Toby's expression instantly sours.
Rupert's gaze shifts to another director. "Mr. Howard, five years ago, you insisted we dump all our Tesla stock because you believed electric cars were just a gimmick, that battery technology could never replace combustion engines."
That director's forehead breaks out in fine sweat.
Rupert's gaze sweeps the room. All the directors who were pontificating moments ago involuntarily avoid his eyes.
"You're all business elites. Your judgments are based on data, on experience, on all past successful cases. There's nothing wrong with that."