The waters of Tokyo Bay steam into golden swirls in an antimatter explosion, and Paul's twin robotic arms cut through the smoke, counting down the six bombs suspended in his palm. In the hologram, the wife's mycelium-wrapped body is fusing with the Gaia mainframe, and her final message flashes across the stream: "There are no gods in the womb of Gaia, only endless evolution."

  At the same time, the deep-sea probe was carrying the two dogs to the bottom of the Mariana Trench. The larvae of the jade species in the culture chamber all open six pairs of compound eyes, and the mycelium bundles are entangled in the shell of the chamber like living creatures. As the first wave of antimatter tore through the sea, he saw countless tiny barcodes emerge from the surface of the incubator - each with an exact replica of the number on the back of his neck.

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  "This is not the end," the juvenile voice resonates through the symbiotic hypha in the bone marrow, "it's the screening."