Next cos the long wait. Manstein stayed at a hotel near the institute, coming to the laboratory every day to observe the animals, assess key indicators of spinal cord function recovery. To make observations more ticulous, he specifically hired a zoology doctor with deep research into primates as a consultant.
"They can’t speak," said the doctor, "but their eyes will tell you, when in pain, their eyes will squint; when frightened, their pupils will dilate; when there’s hope..." He paused, "when there’s hope, they will look at you, not at food, not at threats, but at you, as if waiting for sothing."
Manstein recorded this observation in his notebook, drawing a simple sketch of a monkey’s eye beside it.
In the eighth week, the first monkey in the experintal group showed asurable functional improvent. Electrophysiological monitoring revealed regular nerve signal conduction below the injured area, although the intensity was only 30% of normal levels, the direction was correct, the pattern was normal. Manstein drank a bottle of red wine that night when the data ca out, passing out on the laboratory sofa, muttering so German.
By the twelfth week, three monkeys in the experintal group regained autonomous urination function. This was a critical milestone, signifying the reconstruction of autonomic nerve pathways. Manstein made a one-hour video call to Yang Ping, quickly reporting in Chinese, occasionally waving his hands like a symphony conductor.
In the sixteenth week, the most exciting result appeared: a monkey stood for five seconds with assistance. Its hind legs couldn’t support its whole body weight yet, the posture control of the spine was not perfect, but it indeed stood up, using its own bones, its own muscles, its own nerve system. At that mont, everyone in the laboratory stopped talking, only the cara shutter sound recorded the scene.
August stood behind the observation window, watching the monkey. It was very thin, its fur sparse due to long-term cage confinent, but its eyes were bright. It tried to stand again, its front limbs grasping the cage bars, hind legs trembling with effort, then falling down, trying again, falling again. The third ti, it succeeded, standing for seven seconds.
"This isn’t 14% anymore," Manstein walked to August’s side, his voice hoarse, "this is..."
"This is proof," August said, "proof that the principle is universal, proof that the window can be opened, proof that ecosystem reconstruction is possible, proof that original cell repair can be achieved under certain conditions!"
"Next step is humans," Manstein said, not asking, but stating.
"Next step is more monkeys," August corrected him, "we need a 50% repair rate, we need reproducibility, we need long-term follow-up data. Then it will be humans, and the first batch of human volunteers must be with complete injuries, ineffective traditional treatnts, fully understood inford consent. We cannot give false hope, Manstein. 14% to 50% is a scientific breakthrough, but 50% for a human patient might still an unable to walk, unable to care for themselves, unable to return to their original life. We must be honest, we are doctors! You cannot be so impatient."
Manstein was silent for a long ti, then he extended his hand and shook August’s, it was an old-fashioned, European handshake, firm, short, carrying a weight of so promise.
"Honesty," he said, "That’s what the professor insists on the most and it’s what I need to learn the most. After the Nobel Prize, I forgot this. Now, I am learning again, thank you for the reminder, I was too impatient, no, it’s excitent, excitent made lose rationality."
Manstein’s experints continued.
Yang Ping began to invest more ti into theoretical deepening, if the three-dinsional guiding genetic chanism is effective in spinal cord injury, then how wide is its applicability? He organized a multidisciplinary discussion group, inviting developntal biologists, stem cell researchers, computational biologists, and even an engineer researching artificial intelligence. They t once a week at the institute’s eting room, the whiteboard always filled, genetic regulation network maps, mathematical models, algorithm processes, various colors of markers intertwining into a complex and erging map.
The AI engineer proposed an interesting analogy. He compared the three-dinsional guiding genetic chanism to a "biological GPS system", not the kind of navigation that tells you where to go, but the one that tells "where you are now". Cells need to know their position to decide what type to differentiate into, which direction to grow, and which neighbors to connect with. In embryonic developnt, this GPS system is new, high precision; in adult tissue, it is partially off, precision reduces; in injured or diseased states, it may completely fail, leading to chaotic cell behavior.
"If we can recalibrate this GPS," the engineer said, "not just the spinal cord, any scenario requiring tissue reconstruction could benefit. Skin burns, myocardial ischemia, and even..." He paused, "you’ve already successfully cloned muscle, haven’t you? Any organ can be cloned in the future."
"That’s right, we’ve only successfully cloned muscle so far, but intuition tells the value of this theory far exceeds our imagination. Previously all biological knowledge was about studying the cells themselves, never considered studying their location, now we need to study not only why it is like this but also why it appears there? If this theory continues to mythologize, indeed, many diseases will be solved."
This idea was too bold, so disagreents appeared in the discussion group.
Yang Ping listened to these debates without stating an opinion. He rembered years ago, sketching his thoughts. At that ti, he was just a resident doctor, no laboratory, no funding, no academic status, only a question and a bunch of random ideas. Now, this question is turning into a field, these random thoughts are being validated, extended, challenged.
After the discussion group adjourned, he stayed alone in the eting room, staring at the doodles on the whiteboard. At so mont, those lines and symbols seed to form a star map, not in the astronomical sense, but so older kind, about direction and position. Each migration, each differentiation, each connection of cells in a three-dinsional space is a point on this star map.
He picked up his phone and sent a ssage to Manstein: "At 50%, we hold an international conference. Not to declare victory, but to invite everyone to validate, question, and join in drawing this map."
Manstein’s reply was simple: "Good! But I need to sleep for three days, the monkeys finally let go ho tonight."
Yang Ping smiled, turned off the eting room lights, the voice-activated lights in the corridor lit up one by one with his steps, then extinguished one by one behind him. This rhythm reminded him of a heartbeat, of the waveform on the electrophysiological monitor, of the most fundantal, persistent pulse of life.
At the institute’s gate, he stopped, looked up at the sky. There were stars tonight, not many, but clear, stubbornly twinkling amid the city’s light pollution. He rembered what Manstein said in the voice ssage: "The only thing that got out of that dead end."
Science indeed needs flashes of insight, but before those flashes of insight, there are countless days spent turning around in a dead end. It’s those days that make those flashes aningful.
Yang Ping walked out the door, into the night. Tomorrow, Manstein will continue observing his monkeys, the discussion group will continue debating those bold ideas.
14% is just a beginning, but every beginning once was soone’s end and another’s starting point.
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