Chapter 2291 - 1480: The Limitations of Life (Part 2)

Chapter 2291: Chapter 1480: The Limitations of Life (Part 2)

He opened his eyes and typed the last line in the document: "The meaning of the seal is not to stop us from moving forward, but to remind us to think: Are we ready to face the world behind the door?" Then he saved the document, turned off the computer, stood up, and walked out of the study. When he entered the bedroom, Xiao Su had already lain down, with Erbao’s crib next to her bed. He gently lay down without drawing the curtains. The rain was still falling, its traces meandering down the glass, refracting the street lamp outside into a blurred halo. He watched for a long time, then closed his eyes, listening to the sound of the rain, and slowly fell asleep.

Yang Ping sat in the study, holding no pen, and the experiment notebook was not open in front of him.

He was just sitting on the chair, looking out the window. The rain had stopped, but the sky had not cleared up; it was a uniform, featureless gray.

He was thinking about a question. A question he had never seriously considered before, a question he had thought was unnecessary to ponder.

What is the meaning of life?

This question sounds like it’s asked by philosophers, like it’s asked by poets, like it’s asked by an ordinary person suffering from insomnia in the middle of the night. But it doesn’t seem like the kind of question a scientist would ask. Scientists don’t ask about "meaning"; scientists ask about "mechanism." How does life operate, how do genes express themselves, how do cells divide, how are repair programs activated?

These questions have answers, can be experimentally verified, and can be supported by data.

But "meaning" cannot. "Meaning" cannot be experimentally verified, cannot be supported by data. It is something that cannot be observed under a microscope, cannot be amplified by PCR, cannot be read by sequencers. But it exists. It exists in the consciousness of every living person, in the choices behind every decision, between every "why" and "for what."

Yang Ping used to think this question was unrelated to science. Now he thinks he might be wrong.

When scientific research reaches a certain level, this question also needs to be considered.

He stood up and walked to the bookshelf. There were a few books he had read a long time ago, casually placed on the top shelf, untouched for years. He tiptoed to take down those books; they were a few old books about evolutionary biology, their covers somewhat worn. He flipped to a page in one of them where he had once underlined a sentence: "Evolution has no direction, no purpose, only the selection between adaptation and non-adaptation." At the time, he felt this sentence was well said, concise, accurate, with no superfluous emotion. Now, reading it again, he suddenly feels it carries another meaning. "No purpose!" That means that billions of years of evolution have not driven life toward a predetermined end. Life does not exist because of a "target"; it just exists. It has existed for billions of years, from single-cell to multi-cell, from ocean to land, from simple to complex. Every form of life is just an intermediate product in the process of evolution, temporary and subject to elimination.

Then what about humans? Are humans also just a temporary product of evolution? Are humans a half-finished product? An intermediate state? If so, what special meaning does human existence have? Or, like all other life forms, are humans just existing, with no need for additional significance?

Yang Ping put down the book, returned to the desk, sat down, opened the experiment notebook, flipped to the latest page, then picked up the pen but did not write anything. The pen tip hovered above the paper, only a millimeter or two away, but never touched down.

He remembered the research he had done before. The three-dimensional orientation gene theory answered how cells know where to go; the stem cell theory answered what materials to use for repair; K Therapy answered how to activate repair instructions; the unified theory answered how these directions are actually different facets of the same underlying logic. He once thought that figuring out these mechanisms was his entire duty as a scientist. Understanding the mechanisms, curing diseases, prolonging life, allowing humans to live healthier, longer. Isn’t that enough? Is that where meaning lies?

Yang Ping put down the pen, closed the experiment notebook, and pushed it aside. He leaned back against the chair, looking at the ceiling. There was a thin, long crack in the ceiling extending from the corner of the wall to beside the light fixture. He had seen this crack many times but never examined it as closely as today. The shape, the direction, the branching of the crack, like an inverted tree, the root at the wall corner, the branches reaching toward the light fixture. When did it appear? Was it there when the house was built, or did it slowly expand later? Will it one day widen into an irreparable fracture?

Just like human life. Birth, growth, aging, death. Every stage is part of the program, all prewritten. Birth is the program’s initiation, growth is the program running, aging is the program slowing down, death is the program terminating. This program has been running for billions of years, from the first single-celled organism to today, never stopping. Every termination of life is a complete execution of the program. Every beginning of new life is a restart of the program.

Yang Ping stood up and walked to the window, pushed it open. The post-rain air, carrying the scent of earth and grass, flowed in, cool and moist.