"I don't like the concept of a god existing somewhere out there—somewhere external," Valery Semyonovich rambles. "How can you influence something, let alone create, without constant contact with the object of creation? That role belongs to the viewer, the passive observer, at best the researcher, but not the creator. No. A true god can only exist within."
I groan slightly and turn over on the couch. The doctor gently places his hand on my shoulder. He pats it softly. Looks at his watch.
"I know. It hurts. But it will soon get easier. Try to fall asleep..."
He begins to talk about HELA cell culture. A line of immortal cells that was isolated in '51 from a cervical cancer tumor of a woman named Henrietta Lacks. It's funny that the patient herself has long since rotted in her grave, yet the cells containing her DNA continue to live in thousands of laboratories around the world. They no longer resemble humans. Essentially, they are just biomass. A clump of single-celled organisms. Even their chromosomes are broken into separate fragments. And yet, any genome analysis would confidently identify them as human. A human who understood something in this life and, having surpassed Hayflick's limit, now simply lives on... Perhaps evolution has its own cycles, giving rise to multicellular organisms from single-celled ones, and then back again.
"And here's another interesting story," Valery Semyonovich continues. "Knowing that cancer cells are a transformation of healthy cells, it would logically follow that the more cells in the body, the higher the chance of getting cancer. However, we don't get cancer any more often than mice, and cetaceans even less frequently. It would be foolish to assume that our or whale DNA is less susceptible to mutations than mouse DNA, since we're all mammals. This is what's known as Peto's paradox. There are several theories as to why this happens. Would you like to hear mine?"
I don't want to, but I nod. It seems the faster he finishes and leaves, the sooner I'll die—or at least do so quietly.
"In developing, a cancerous tumor is forced to integrate itself into the organism. To form its own tissues, to penetrate itself with blood vessels for nourishment. This is a forced creative activity. But naturally, there are cancer cells inside that don't want to participate in this. Super-parasites. Real freeloaders. They conserve their energy, engage only in their own division, and gain an evolutionary advantage over the rest of the tumor. And eventually, they consume it. Cancer within cancer. Can you imagine?"
I nod understandingly again. Damn it! Why can't they just let me die? Those damned injections... It feels like worms have been injected under my skin. But the doctor seems almost happy about it. He looks at me and beams with joy. How organic he is in his madness...
As if he's just come down from a mountain, having spoken with a burning bush, and is now ready to reveal the absolute truth to everyone. Well, go ahead! Spit it out!
"What if cancer itself hides the true god?" Here we go... "It's the quintessence of replication mechanisms. The alpha and omega of biological life. This is what gave rise to all creatures. It transformed the biosphere, creating the sky and earth we're familiar with. From birth, it resides within each of us: punishing with agonizing death or granting eternal life..."
Valery Semyonovich's words grow quieter, drift away, carried off into the darkness. Or maybe it's me flying toward the light.