Hermes in Havoc: Olympian Newsflash from 2026

Mortals dare to rewrite the very fabric of life itself! LIVE from the year 2026, this is Hermes with an update of Olympian-level urgency. Last time I spoke to you of their glowing rectangles and driverless carts——that was mere mortal madness. This… is something else entirely. They have invented... scissors. But not for parchment, not for cloth. Scissors for the very thread the Fates weave. They call it CRISPR. Two mortals, Doudna and Charpentier, were given a PRIZE for it.

A prize! For finding a way to snip and stitch the code of existence like a tailor letting out a pair of trousers. They take the DNA—the scroll of life that determines if a creature is a man or a minotaur—and they just… CUT IT. They say it’s to fix things. A noble goal, I suppose. But their aim is… clumsy. They miss. The scissors slip. They call this an “off-target effect.” I call it an abomination waiting to happen! What is that—Zeus, please, your thunder is rattling my teeth.

He says——he says "usurpers." And for once, I do not think he is overreacting. Because now they are not just talking about plants or yeasts. They are talking about their OWN SPAWN. One in thirty-three of their babies, they say, is born with a flaw. A "birth defect." And a man named William Peranteau wants to "fix" these flaws in the womb. BEFORE the child is even born! And some—like a woman named Michelle Lynn Hall—want to go even further. She wants a "more liberal approach" to editing the EMBRYO.

An egg! A spark! Not even a person yet! She says it's more "humane." Hera is… not taking this well. She’s demanding I ask what is more humane than the sanctity of creation itself? What is more humane than accepting the form the gods have granted you? She has a point. You don't see me trying to edit my wings for better aerodynamics. They are what they are! It’s chaos! They want to offer "advanced genetic therapies" as a… market. A market! They have put a price tag on perfection.

But here is the turn. Not all mortals are so arrogant. There is a doctor, a healer of some renown—Kiran Musunuru. He was on a stage, in front of his peers, and he spoke of one of their so-called successes. A baby they "helped." And he said—get this—he said, "It was not really science at all! It was not clinical research. It was not a cure." Hades just buzzed in. His exact words: "So they're creating flawed, experimental souls and sending them my way.

The paperwork will be a nightmare." He’s not wrong. Musunuru calls it giving "false hope." He calls them "snake oil salesmen." And then he said the words that froze even me. Speaking of editing embryos, this mortal doctor, this Kiran Musunuru, said, "I think embryo editing is tantamount to child abuse." Child. Abuse. Even a mortal sees it. Even a mortal understands the hubris. Another scientist, Paula Cannon, cheered when the companies doing this work shut down.

She wants a ten-year moratorium. Ten years! An eye-blink for us, an eternity for them. It seems some mortals, at least, still possess the capacity for fear. They have stolen fire again. But this time it is not a flame you can carry in a torch. It is the fire of creation itself. They hold it in their clumsy, mortal hands, promising cures and perfection. But with their "off-target effects" and their shaky aim, they are not smiths forging a masterpiece.

They are children playing with lightning. And they have no idea where it is going to strike.