THE DAY THE INSTRUCTIONS STOPPED BEING SUGGESTIONS
For most of human history, biology had a comforting property: it did not listen. You could yell at plants. You could negotiate with animals. You could pray, bargain, threaten, sacrifice, and invent entire pantheons dedicated to explaining why your crops failed anyway. DNA, meanwhile, stayed silent. It carried instructions, yes-but not yours. It replicated itself indifferently, occasionally mutating like a drunk typist, occasionally killing its host out of sheer bureaucratic indifference. It did not care about progress. It did not care about improvement. It did not care that humans were extremely confident mammals with clipboards. Then one day, bacteria accidentally handed us scissors. And suddenly biology started listening.