The cold, almost swampy color of the moon seeps through the windows onto his table, enchantingly enticing the old manuscripts of ancient tribes and peoples. He is again looking for evidence of the scientific theory of the origin of life. Again, he doesn’t sleep, sorting through ancient letters, artifacts, the latest research, doing everything just to prove the non-involvement of the Eons in the creation of life. With his other hand he leafs through the works of the Society of Geniuses, published on the topics of history and archeology. The creaking behind their back remains unnoticed or is deliberately announced. He knew that you would talk again about the importance of a good night's sleep, about how he was killing his health, but what was left for him. While he is on this planet, he needs to get the most out of the local data, the limit is returning to his laboratory.

Come in the morning.