The Rebirth of a Scientist

  Hospital. Evening time. An ambulance screeched to a halt in front of the hospital. The doors flung open, and several doctors and nurses rushed an injured patient inside. The corridor was filled with noise — hurried footsteps and the clinking of instruments echoed through the hallways. Operating room. The faint sound of the monitor — “beep… beep…” — was the only thing breaking the silence. The patient’s heart was slowing down. The doctors exchanged anxious glances. Hope was fading, and even the air in the room seemed heavy. 

  At that moment, the door burst open. A figure stepped inside. It was the renowned scientist and doctor, Dr. Shintaro. He couldn’t hide the worry on his face as he took a deep breath. “No, I will not let this child die. There is still hope,” he thought. — “Report the situation!” he said firmly. — “The heartbeat is very weak… it seems impossible to save him,” the nurse answered nervously. Shintaro looked them straight in the eye: — “If he is still alive, then there is a chance. Pull yourselves together! We will save him together.” Time slipped away. Hands moved tirelessly. The clinking of tools, short commands, the dripping of IV fluids… everything resembled a silent, exhausting battle. Finally— — “The heartbeat is stabilizing!” shouted the nurse. The monitor once again produced a steady “beep-beep-beep,” and the room felt as if a wave of relief had entered. Corridor. Shintaro walked out, exhausted. 

 he patient’s relatives, who had been waiting anxiously, burst into tears of gratitude. — “He is alive. He will make it,” the doctor said briefly. The family wiped their tears, showering him with thanks. Shintaro smiled faintly and murmured: — “This is my duty. If a person survives, there is no greater reward…” For a moment, he stood silently, lost in thought: Perhaps tomorrow, we will save even more lives. I am close to the final stage of the cancer vaccine. If it succeeds… humanity will gain new hope. He headed toward the laboratory. As soon as he arrived, he immersed himself in work. The lab was silent. Machines along the walls hummed softly, indicator lights flickering here and there. On the desk lay dozens of vials — remnants of failed experiments. For Shintaro, each one was a monument to both hope and sorrow. He picked up a small vial. Inside was a clear liquid. To the eye, it looked like ordinary water. But for Shintaro, this was his last chance after more than a hundred failures — something that could determine the fate of humanity. “What if I fail again? Another child… another mother… will lose their time…” he whispered inside. With steady hands, he poured the liquid into a special container. Lines began to move across the monitor. At first, chaotic — collapsing, as if falling apart. His assistant held his breath. — “Will it fail again?” he whispered. Shintaro did not answer. He clenched his fist, eyes fixed on the screen. The line suddenly dropped straight down. His heart froze. But then — it began to rise again, gradually stabilizing. The green indicator lit up, pulsing rhythmically. Tears welled in the assistant’s eyes. — “It… it’s working!” Shintaro exhaled deeply, a faint smile on his face. But there was more fatigue and weight of responsibility than joy. — “This is only the beginning,” he murmured. “There are still many trials ahead. But today… we have taken one step forward.” He set the pen down on the desk. Under the lamp, the vial gleamed. It was no longer just liquid — it was humanity’s hope. At that moment, another assistant rushed in: — “Doctor! A young boy with cancer has just been admitted!” Shintaro immediately rose to his feet. — “Take me to him!” Children’s ward. On a white bed lay a young boy. Despite his exhausted face, his eyes still carried a spark of hope. Shintaro knelt by his side and held his hand. — “Your life is only beginning, little one. We will fight for you.” — “Doctor… will I be able to become a football player?” the boy asked in a weak voice. Shintaro smiled. — “Of course. Your star hasn’t shone yet. And I can’t wait to see it.” At that moment, the room seemed to fill with hope. Closing note: “The cancer vaccine… has been successfully created.” Dr. Shintaro’s vaccine saved thousands of lives around the world from cancer. When the first trials succeeded, one mother wept in the hospital corridor, whispering: — “My son will live…” 

  Her words became a light of hope for the entire scientific team. The news spread quickly through global media. In some countries, hospitals lit celebratory lanterns. The scientific community welcomed the breakthrough with joy. Soon, it was officially announced that Dr. Shintaro Nagao had been nominated for the Nobel Prize. The next day — Nobel Prize ceremony. A grand hall clad in marble. Chandeliers shimmered softly under the dome. Ministers, renowned scientists, and international delegates walked solemnly along the red carpet. The host — the honorable chairman of the Nobel Committee — took the stage, raising his voice ceremoniously: — “Today we witness a turning point in human history. We honor the man who turned science not into a weapon, but into a beacon of hope. The symbol of perseverance and humanity — Dr. Shintaro Nagao!” Thunderous applause filled the hall. Hundreds rose to their feet. Shintaro, in a simple suit and with a calm expression, walked along the red carpet. Every step felt as though it was made not for himself, but for the future of humanity. The moment the silver Nobel medal touched his hand, time itself seemed to stop. He began to speak. His voice was clear and steady: — “This moment is not mine. It belongs to all those still waiting with hope. Science is not just numbers in a laboratory. Science is the child crying in his mother’s arms, the father waiting daily at the hospital doors, the young life breaking under sorrow. If you wish to destroy a nation — kill its science. If you wish to revive it — awaken its science. This vaccine is not my work alone. It is the labor of thousands of researchers, of teachers, of my people who toiled in the shadows. And my promise is this: science does not only heal the present. It heals the future. This victory is humanity’s victory.” The hall erupted in applause. In the front row, a boy — once saved by this very vaccine — wiped tears from his eyes. When Shintaro’s gaze met his, tears welled in his own eyes too.

  This moment was etched into history in golden letters. Amidst the international acclaim and celebration, Dr. Shintaro quietly smiled. Later, as he returned to his car, an officer suddenly appeared. It was Colonel Kadota, a stern-faced military man. — “Dr. Shintaro, the Ministry of Defense demands your presence at the trial of your new technology — the Z-bomb. The generals consider your attendance a matter of strategic prestige.” Shintaro paused. — “Science only becomes dangerous when it leaves the laboratory… Very well. Let’s go.” Scene 2: Military Command Center A vast hall, equipped with the most advanced technology. Generals, admirals, and strategists sat in solemn silence. When Shintaro entered, they all stood up. General Hayashi: — “Thanks to you, our military power looks to the future with confidence. The first test of the Z-bomb begins now. Please, direct your attention to the screen.” The LED screen displayed a desert test site. A voice announcement echoed: — “Ten seconds until Z-bomb drop… 9… 8…” The silence was so deep that even heartbeats could be heard. “BOOM!” The sky split apart. The earth trembled violently. Fire and ash shot upward. Shockwaves rattled the windows. Shintaro whispered: — “Once, the formulas in my hands saved millions of lives. But today… they have turned into a means to destroy millions. When does science stop? When the scientist drops his pen, or when the politician picks up a weapon?” Some generals smiled in triumph. Others’ eyes reflected only fear. Scene 3: The world trembles Footage of the Z-bomb spread across the globe. From the White House to the Kremlin, from the UN to Saudi Arabia, alarms rang. A secret international meeting began. Minister 1 (gravely): — “If he has achieved this, what will come tomorrow? Splitting the planet in half?” Minister 2: — “His existence is a danger to humanity. If we don’t eliminate him, it will be too late.” Minister 3: — “No. If we kill him, the people will protest.” Minister 4: — “Yes, better to bring him to our side than destroy him.” Minister 2 (coldly): — “No. He will never submit. Tomorrow he may create something even deadlier. We cannot take that risk.” They all silently agreed. After the meeting, a minister summoned a hitman, offering him a suitcase full of money. — “Eliminate Dr. Shintaro.” Hitman: — “Sir, I cannot. My younger brother was saved by his vaccine. I owe him my life.” Minister (coldly): — “If you refuse, both you and your family will be erased.”

   The hitman reluctantly agreed. Scene 4: That night — Shintaro’s home Shintaro returned home. A simple evening — tea, shower, laptop, plans for the future… Yet something weighed on him. When he entered his room, a chilling draft blew. On the bed sat a figure. Hitman (voice trembling): — “I grew up listening to your lectures… Your vaccine saved my brother. But orders are orders. If you live, millions may die. I must kill you… Forgive me…” Tears streamed down his face. Shintaro (calmly): — “Tell them this: A scientist may die, but science will not. For science is born with humanity, and it will live with humanity.” Bang! The camera blurred. The room was silent. Books lay scattered. Scene 5: Funeral Mourners in black. Students crying. Scholars with bowed shoulders. His student Yukiko stepped forward by the coffin: — “Teacher… you taught us not only science, but also how to believe. You are gone, but your words remain. We will carry them on.” The sun slowly set. On the gravestone, only one phrase was engraved: “A scientist may die, but science will not. For science lives with humanity.” The camera panned back, showing students clutching his old notebooks. A breeze turned the pages, revealing new formulas and ideas. Narrator’s voice (clear and hopeful): — “Shintaro is gone. But his dream still lives. Because science is humanity’s legacy — and no one can kill a legacy.” But then… faint voices echoed in the distance. A beam of light broke through the darkness. Shintaro’s eyelids fluttered. His eyes slowly opened. Shintaro (thinking): — “Where am I?.. Am I alive?.. No, impossible, I was shot in the heart. Biologically, survival is not possible. Then what happened?” He saw blurred figures. 

  Slowly, the light sharpened. Before him stood a young woman with golden hair and blue eyes, dressed in white medieval-like clothing. Her face radiated kindness. She whispered in a mysterious tongue: — “Luméa, filius meus… ventéra in mundus novum. Sérai semper iuxta te.” Shintaro was bewildered. — “This… what language is this?.. It sounds like Latin, but not exactly.” Beside her, a brown-haired man in peasant clothes, stern-faced, spoke: — “Fortem cor habeas, parvulus. Mundo obscuro lumen feres.” Shintaro (thinking): — “What is happening?.. Is this an illusion? A final neural flash of activity? No. My sensory perception is structured, the sounds are clear, my senses are functioning. This is not a hallucination.” From the woman’s eyes, he felt warmth and love. — “So… have I truly been reborn?.. But in what form?.. In my own body, or a new biological substrate?.. I will answer later. For now… I must examine my condition.” He tried moving his body. His limbs were weak, barely responsive. Only faint movements. When he tried to speak, a baby’s cry came out. Shintaro panicked. — “Why… why am I crying?! That’s not my voice… My voice, my motor skills — they’re a baby’s!” Looking at his tiny hands, delicate fingers, his mind froze. — “No… this is not a dream. I have

 been reborn as an infant. But why?.. Is it fate?.. Nature itself seems to have bound me to this. No matter how much we resist, biology cannot be defied. I must wait.” At that moment, the woman — his new mother — held him gently, humming a lullaby. Though the words were foreign, the melody filled Shintaro’s heart with warmth and peace. Shintaro (thinking): — “I don’t understand her words… but… So this is what a mother’s warmth feels like—how wonderful it is.. I’m glad… I’m glad I can feel it again.” His eyelids grew heavy, and he fell asleep. The parents looked at their child sleeping peacefully and smiled at each other. The mother whispered in her mysterious language: — “Karlen, nomas qui donaremus?” The father answered calmly: — “Nomen eius sit Moris.” The woman gazed lovingly at her baby, kissed his forehead, and whispered: — “Moriséa, vita mea…” Thus, in a new world, Shintaro’s new name was given. From now on, he was — Moris.