The room was a grand amphitheater capable of holding over a thousand people, and that night, it was completely full. The main lights gradually dimmed, leaving only a bright spotlight illuminating the center of the stage. The figure of Doctor Ronney Momongi, an elderly man with a serene demeanor, emerged under that light with the confidence of someone who knew every corner of human knowledge.
The doctor, with his neatly combed white hair, wore an immaculately white lab coat that stood out against the black backdrop of the stage. His deep, bright green eyes scanned the audience with a mix of kindness and challenge, as if he were about to share a secret that would change the course of their lives.
"Evolution? Survival? Black or white? Our future?" he asked, his voice resonating clearly through the auditorium.
An absolute silence filled the space. Even the faintest murmurs ceased at the doctor's intriguing opening. After a calculated pause, he continued with a cadence that captivated both experts and novices alike:
"We've all heard about genetics. It's one of the most promising branches of science, yet, at the same time, one of the most incomplete. Although we've achieved incredible advances, we're still scratching the surface of its vast potential."
A projector turned on behind him, displaying an enlarged image of a complex genetic sequence. The combination of letters and colors representing a DNA code seemed to pulse with a life of its own on the screen, a visual reminder of the mystery they were trying to decipher.
"Today, after decades of research, we've taken a monumental step. We've clearly identified three distinct types of mutant genes. And this, my dear listeners, means we now know exactly what we're facing... and where we might be headed."
The intensity of his words filled the auditorium with anticipation. With a fluid gesture, Dr. Momongi used a small remote to change the slide. Two contrasting images appeared: one showed a smiling, seemingly ordinary family enjoying a day outdoors. The other, in stark contrast, showed a man in an observation cell. His skin bore deformities that made him look more like a leper than a human.
The doctor pointed to the first image.
"What you see here is a family of mutants. From Class C to Class A, these individuals look like us, live like us, and can integrate into our society without any issues."
Then, he pointed to the second image.
"But here..." he paused, letting the attention focus on the figure of the prisoner, "we have an example of what happens when we don't help mutants control their gifts. This man is also Class A, but something in him went terribly wrong."
His eyes swept across the audience with an inquisitive glint.
"Can anyone tell me what sets him apart from the family in the previous image?"
The question hung in the air. After a few seconds, a hand rose from one of the farthest seats. An automatic light illuminated the student, whose silhouette cast a long shadow on the auditorium walls.
"He has two mutant genes instead of just one," the young man replied, his voice firm and confident.
The doctor nodded slowly, his smile reflecting pride and approval.
"Exactly. When a human possesses more than one mutant gene, the effects often manifest physically, though not always. This allows us to measure their level of potential danger. However..." he added, raising a finger in warning, "this doesn't mean they are evil or doomed."
The auditorium began to fill with murmurs, small conversations sprouting among the attendees as if they were trying to process the information. Momongi took advantage of the moment to change the slide again. The screen now showed the weathered image of a ruined bronze statue. It depicted four figures, three of them with unusual features: a woman with wings, another with a hat covering her face, and a man with a large backpack. They all seemed to follow the fourth individual, a man standing at the center, upright and serene.
The entire room fell silent, mesmerized by the vision of the statue.
"Throughout history," Momongi said, his voice lowering slightly, as if sharing a secret, "there have been signs of mutants capable of unifying races. This, my friends, is one such case."
He changed the slide again, showing ancient engravings in books and portraits of similar figures, forgotten heroes who once marked their time.
"These records speak of a third type of mutant. A type that doesn't just seek to survive but seems destined to lead. Their ability to connect, to harmonize opposing forces, is the key to moving toward a future where war and discrimination are things of the past."
The auditorium was motionless. No one wanted to miss a single word. Dr. Momongi's passion filled the air, but so did an implicit question, a silent challenge: was it possible to achieve that vision of harmony, or was it merely a fantasy?
As the doctor stepped away from the projector, allowing the statue to once again occupy the center of the screen, he concluded with a note that resonated deeply with everyone present:
"This..." he said, pointing at the image, "is not just a relic of the past. It's our proof that, even in the darkest moments, there is hope. Genetics has shown us the problem. Now it's up to us to find the solution."
The audience remained silent for a few seconds before erupting into applause. However, amid the clamor, a figure lingering in the shadows of the auditorium did not react. In their golden eyes, a glimmer of interest shone as they hastily took notes in a small black notebook.