Chapter 167: Reshaping Life

Chapter 167: Reshaping Life

Wayne's nose was bleeding—thick, dark blood.

The white-haired doctor understood what that meant.

"Hemorrhaging deep in the brain. Microvascular rupture." The words came out in ragged breaths.

Morrison took a few steps forward. "Chief—"

"Don't disturb him." The white-haired doctor blocked Morrison's path.

"Right now, the neural signals he's generating are forcibly overriding the program in Jenny's body. Any external interference will interrupt the signal."

"If the signal cuts out, Jenny dies immediately."

Morrison's hand froze in midair.

Bell spoke again, his voice devoid of both amusement and panic—just pure incomprehension.

"He's using a living person's nervous system as a decoder. Biologically speaking, that's impossible. The human brain doesn't have the computational precision of a microchip."

"No ordinary person could do this."

The white-haired doctor crouched beside Wayne, watching the hand pressed against the patch, watching those eyes that could no longer focus.

"But there was a line in the blueprints Griffin's son left behind fifteen years ago."

"'The final test subject's synaptic density is four times that of a normal person.'"

"Four times the synaptic density means four times the parallel processing capacity."

"Wayne's brain can also function as a biological computer."

Hearing this, Emily lifted her hand from Jenny's face and looked at Wayne.

Wayne's complexion was draining of color at a visible rate. Dark blood marked the corner of his mouth. Red veins webbed across his eyeballs.

He was burning his own life as fuel to run a program beyond human capability.

Bell fell silent for five seconds.

"Even if he can hold out for ten minutes, twenty minutes—eventually all the blood vessels in his brain will rupture."

"Either his daughter dies, or they both do."

"Using a machine to define what death is."

Emily spoke, the words seemingly in response to Bell, though her gaze remained locked on Wayne.

But Wayne didn't hear. All his attention was concentrated on the faint white light in his palm—and on Jenny's chest.

Morrison picked up where Emily left off, speaking through the comm channel to the man on the screen who thought he held the meaning of life in his hands.

"He's rewriting her life. Like a god."

Bell's laughter came through the channel, carrying a century's worth of unwavering conviction.

"The self-destruct chip has already been activated. External signals can't override hardware commands."

No one answered him.

The white-haired doctor noticed a label on Wayne's hand. Wayne's fingers began to tremble, faster and faster at first.

Then gradually they slowed. The white-haired doctor assumed it was from weakness.

Emily's voice was low. "I can feel her pulse."

"How many?"

"Thirty-five, thirty-six..." A pause. "Still climbing."

Bell stopped laughing.

"That's not possible." His voice came from off-screen, its tone cracking for the first time.

"The chip issued a termination command. Cells can't reverse and reassemble. That violates—"

Morrison cut him off, his voice sharp with emphasis. "Violates biological laws? Is that what you were going to say?"

No one answered his question. At this moment, in this room, there was only one thing that mattered.

The white light steadied at Jenny's chest, no longer flickering but slowly radiating outward.

A faint bioelectric current formed across her body, as if something were being input back into her system.

The white-haired doctor placed his fingers on Jenny's neck, counting motionlessly for ten seconds.

"Forty-seven." His voice trembled. "And still rising."

Bell said nothing.

The white-haired doctor lifted his head toward the computer.

"That's what it means, isn't it? Using the brain as an external processor. Real-time compilation of genetic lock maintenance code through the brainstem."

Bell maintained that the human brain couldn't perform such work. "Computational precision insufficient—"

The white-haired doctor said, "Normal synaptic density can't reach it. But do you know how many times greater the synaptic density of Griffin's final test subjects was compared to normal people?"

Silence from the screen.

"Four times." Jenny's fingers began to move.

Emily suddenly grasped Jenny's hand. Jenny's fingers slowly curled in response—not much strength, but real.

"Mom..."

The word squeezed out from behind the respirator mask, so small it was barely audible.

Morrison pressed one hand against the wall. He made no sound, but his shoulders shook continuously.

Bell stared at the screen for about five seconds without speaking.

Then he spoke, his tone containing no anger, no panic—only the dry acknowledgment of forced acceptance.

"He's using human neural signals to replace commands issued by the chip."

"Yes." The white-haired doctor said. "He's also controlling the E-7 neural overload."

"Currently, he's doing both things simultaneously."

Bell fell into a rare silence.

Emily gripped Jenny's hand tightly, but her eyes never left Wayne's face.

Wayne's complexion was deathly pale. The dark red blood from his nose hadn't dried. His eyes stared forward, unblinking.

"Wayne, Jenny's awake."

This time Wayne moved slightly, lowering his head a fraction, but didn't turn.

He couldn't afford the distraction. The hand pressed against the patch remained steady. The white light hadn't fully stabilized yet.

On the other end of the screen, Bell moved, standing and walking toward the camera, bringing his face close.

"Even if he's succeeded now, it's only temporary."

"The human nervous system can't sustain this kind of pressure for long. Within ten to thirty minutes, all the blood vessels in his brain will—"

"Enough." Wayne spoke only that word, but everyone in the room held their breath.

The white-haired doctor crouched down to examine the light on the patch. After three seconds, he looked up.

The genetic lock signal was stable. The termination command had been blocked.

He paused, then verified again. "It's been overridden."

Bell's mouth moved without sound.

Jenny's cells had stopped deteriorating. The white-haired doctor placed his fingers on Jenny's carotid artery and spoke slowly.

"Immune function is also recovering."

Static came through the comm channel.

Bell's speech slowed, as if weighing each word carefully.

"There's truly no precedent for this in your medicine."

"Nothing like this exists in your medical knowledge."

Morrison turned back toward the screen. "That's your problem."

Bell stopped talking but kept the line open.

He was watching.

The white light on the patch slowly diminished without disappearing completely.

It sank deeper into Jenny's chest, as if something was returning to where it belonged.

"Jenny's temperature is 36°C."

Emily leaned close to Jenny, speaking softly.

The corners of Jenny's mouth lifted slightly.

On the other end of the screen, Bell collapsed into his chair. The image shook.

His manner of sitting had changed. Before, he'd always settled with confidence. Now he slumped, legs giving way.

After watching the child in the bed and Wayne kneeling beside it, face drained of color, he remained silent for a long time.

His voice came low, cutting clearly through the comm channel.

"I've spent forty years studying genetics."

No one answered him.

"I thought I knew what life was. But the truth is—I don't."