X-Gene God: from Experimental Subject to Almighty Universe

A viscous liquid with a faint sweet fishy smell and the smell of chemical preservatives enveloped him. Cold, biting cold, is the first and only feeling brought by this liquid. He was suspended in it, his vision was blurry, and he could only see a hazy green shimmer in front of him. The metal barrier vaguely reflected a cold luster outside the light, like the internal organs of a giant beast, imprisoning him tenderly and cruelly. There is a monotonous and regular ticking sound in my ears, coming from some invisible instrument, like some kind of eternal metronome, marking the time of nothingness. Occasionally mixed with the soft gurgling sound of the slow circulation of liquid, and the distant hum of mechanical operation that seemed dull and vague after being blocked by the thick walls. He couldn't feel the physical presence of his limbs, only a diffuse, dull numbness. Every time I tried to think, my consciousness felt like it was stuck in a quagmire, heavy and slow. Who I am? Where am I? These problems are like bubbles at the bottom of the water. They burst silently as soon as they float, leaving no trace behind. There is only one primal, instinctive perception of existence. And the boundless coldness and suffocating confinement that accompanies existence.