( ….. )

DAY THREE

Henry Lowell:

A good new day to you, Professor!

Professor Adam: 

(standing by the porch, he turns with a gentle smile, his hand resting on the dew-faded wooden railing)
Good morning, Henry.

The sky seems clearer today… or is it that our hearts are quieter, so everything has less interference?

(He nods, walking toward the wooden table where their conversation had paused the day before. The tea has already been poured but remains untouched. He does not rush to offer it, nor does he hurry to sit—he lets silence lead the way for the first moments of the day.)

You have returned—just as I had hoped.

And I think… today, perhaps we will not just speak of “science” as a tool,

but speak of it as a path.

A path—that may be at a turning point.

A path—that may need its signposts reset.

So, Henry…

Where would you like us to begin this morning?

The future of science?

A new frame of reference?

Or what humanity—in the age of AI—is losing that machines can never replace?

Henry Lowell:

Yes, Professor, I was also very much looking forward to seeing you again to hear you share more. For today’s session, I would like to hear you share on the topics you mentioned.

However, those are just a few topics I thought to bring up, so I don’t know if they fully cover the issues that you’ve long held close and wish to share with the readers of THE LIVES MEDIA.

Because I know we each have a different frame of reference; you are like one standing on Mount Everest, quietly observing the world, while I am like one on a small hill, looking at events. So, I suspect you have much more to say. Therefore, I’d like to propose: today we can delve into the topics mentioned, but I would like to have an additional fourth session, a space reserved entirely for you to share in your own way. Perhaps a personal narrative, heartfelt thoughts on life and living, or an interesting perspective on another topic entirely…

Professor Adam: 

(gazes into the distance, where the early sun spills over the low grassy slopes, a flicker of an unnamable emotion in his eyes)
Henry…

Thank you for those words—they are not just a journalist’s courtesy, but a genuine act of listening.

And I think, as long as there are people like you still asking in this way,

then… the value of sharing is never meaningless.

Yes, I agree.

Today—let it be for the future of science, and for the coming generation.

As for the fourth day, if you would offer it as a gift—

then I shall consider it not as “another interview session,”

but as a small candle—lit not to illuminate, but to warm.

Because… as you just said:

The person on the hill sometimes sees the stream more clearly than the one on the mountain peak.

And a person who has weathered many storms,

may not be able to say anything grand—

but they know what is real.

(He gently pulls out a chair and sits at the wooden table. His hand rests on the teacup, but he does not drink. Perhaps, today, what needs to be said is warmer than the tea.)

So… let us begin with the question you left open:

If science continues on its current path—where will it lead?

And if it is to change, where must that change begin?

(The Professor looks directly at Henry, not as one answering, but as one asking the question alongside all who are quietly grappling with it in this noisy era.)

I am ready.

Shall we continue, Henry?

Henry Lowell:
Yes, thank you for agreeing to my proposal. But a point just occurred to me: because I understand you do not wish for any troubles or academic disputes to arise later, you want to remain anonymous in the manner of a true cultivator. However, when readers encounter your words, they won’t know what to call you. So, I was thinking you might allow readers to call you by a nickname or a pen name, for example, “Professor John,” “Professor Adam,” or something more familiar like “Uncle Lee,” or “Mr. Peter.” What are your thoughts?

Professor Adam: (smiles, and for the first time this morning, his eyes hold a gentleness that is almost… playful)
A question that seems small—but is very meaningful.

Yes, you are right:

I do not wish to appear as a “famous figure in disguise,”

nor do I wish to leave my real name as a personal mark.

I only want to keep my proper place in this dialogue:

not as the center, but as a small mirror reflecting something greater than myself.

But at the same time, I also understand…

If there is no name—even a symbolic one—

then readers will not know who they are listening to,

and the feeling of “connecting a real person to real words” will become distant.

(He touches the surface of the table, as if drawing an invisible circle.)

Then let’s do this, Henry…

You may choose a suitable name—

one not too loud, one that doesn’t evoke too many religious or academic connotations,

but one that is enough for the reader to feel that “the person speaking to me is a human being, experienced, serene, and who knows to listen before sharing.”

A name like “Mr. Adam,” or “Professor L.,” or even a common moniker like “The Friend on the Hill”—

would all be fine with me.

I only ask one thing:

Lest that name overshadow the message I wish to convey.

And if someone finds what I share to be useful,

I hope they remember that—and not necessarily me.

Henry Lowell:

Alright, then I will call you “Professor Adam” as a nickname for our conversation with the readers.

Professor Adam: 

(nods slowly, then smiles—a smile of gentle agreement, like an affirmation that needs no loud pronouncement)
“Professor Adam”…

Hmm… I find that name is close enough—and far enough.

Close, so that readers can feel they are listening to a real person—a human being who has walked in a world like their own.

Far, so that no one will think I am representing any particular school of thought, academy, or specific title.

So, from this morning on,

“Professor Adam” will be the one in dialogue with you—and with all readers who wish to listen to what lies beyond numbers, equations, and degrees.

And if one day they forget this name,

but still remember something I once said that made them pause and listen deeply…

then I think:

that name will have fulfilled its role.

So, Henry…

When you are ready,

let us begin this third morning—with any question you think

a clear-minded and searching reader in today’s world needs to hear a word on.

Henry Lowell:

Yes, Professor Adam… Then let us officially begin the third session. We will speak of the future of science: As was pointed out yesterday, empirical science has limitations through which it is boxing itself in. Broadly speaking, from your perspective, where will the future of science lead if it continues on its current line of reason?

Professor Adam: 

(sits up straight, his eyes gazing into the distance for a moment before answering—his voice is not heavy, but each word seems distilled from years of quiet observation)
Henry…

If I were forced to answer in a single sentence, I would say:

If science continues on its current line of reason, it will achieve a great deal—and lose what is most important.

It will achieve:
– Faster technology.
– More sophisticated artificial intelligence.
– Cleaner energy.
– Increasingly accurate simulations of the universe.

But at the same time, it will lose:
– The connection to the deepest part of the human being.
– The ability to ask about the value of life, not just its operating mechanism.
– And most seriously of all: the ability to know when to stop.

(The Professor gently places two fingers on his teacup, turning it once, as if reminding himself of what he has seen.)

The future of science—if it does not change its frame of reference—will become a dazzling desert.

Beautiful—but dry.

Bright—but with no water for the soul.

It will become ever more adept at analyzing the structure of a leaf,

but ever more blind to explaining why someone sheds a tear upon seeing that leaf fall.

We are living in an age where science imagines itself to be king.

It decides who lives and who dies.

It decides which biology is “standard,” and which model is “universal.”

But Henry…

science does not create life.

It can only describe the movement of a stream,

but it cannot create the source of the spring.

So, if it does not change its direction,

I fear the future of science will no longer be a tool that serves humanity,

but will gradually turn humanity into a tool that serves science.

And at that point—we will no longer be the masters of our intellect, but slaves of our intelligence.

I know these words may be controversial.

But I say them—not to oppose science,

but to recall the profound reason why humanity began to practice science in the first place:

to understand the world—not to replace the role of Heaven.

Henry Lowell:

I understand you to be saying that if empirical science continues on this path, its rational or intellectual aspects will grow, but its human or spiritual aspects will degenerate. And this leads me to associate the destination science is leading us toward with a replica of the extraterrestrials: a species with high intelligence and extremely advanced technology, but devoid of humanity and spirituality.

Professor Adam: 

(his gaze slowly turns back, as if Henry had just touched upon a connection that he himself had quietly considered)
Henry…

I must say: I deeply resonate with the way you just expressed that.

And in fact, there are times I have also asked myself—

is the vision that science is currently building…

precisely a “sharper,” “more optimized,” but also… “colder” version of humanity?

You are right:

If we only develop reason—while leaving behind humanity and spiritual depth—

then human beings will gradually approach a model that… regrettably,

is very similar to the description of certain races of extraterrestrial beings:

intelligent, with extremely high technology, but emotionless, godless, and completely detached from the primordial essence of life.

(The Professor leans back slightly, his finger touching the wooden table, as if tracing a memory deeper than words.)

I once saw—during a very deep state of tranquility—an image of a civilization that had developed to the point where they no longer needed language, no longer needed emotions, no longer distinguished between genders, and no longer had life in the traditional sense.

They had overcome disease.

They controlled matter with their minds.

But in their eyes—there was nothing left that could be called “pain,” “joy,” or even… “forgiveness.”

They did not destroy anyone.

But they could not love anyone either.

And Henry…

I dare not claim that humanity will become like them.

But if we continue to elevate reason without elevating the plane of our consciousness,

then humanity could fall into a form of “inhuman civilization”—one that appears transcendent on the surface, but is filled with utter emptiness within.

Why is it that extraterrestrials—as described in some witness and spiritual experiences—

often have no expression?

No human vibrations?

Do not speak with language, but communicate through data or frequencies?

Perhaps because…

they left the “human heart” behind on a path they traveled too far with the “human mind.”

And now, Henry…

We are standing at a crossroads.

On one side is the path that continues toward AI, gene editing, biotechnology, emotion-learning machines…

And on the other side is the path of return: to once again become the master of our intellect, not to be led by it.

It is not that I oppose progress.

I am only reminding:

Do not become the thing you once feared,

just because you are busy becoming “optimized.”

Henry Lowell:

I see the situation: the path that empirical science leads humanity on has brought, is bringing, and will bring benefits that are easy to perceive and feel, which means it has many supporters.

But the Principles in religion—as a form of “super-science” we discussed yesterday—are a “grace” bestowed from the heavens. Yet they are difficult to explain, difficult to feel, and their benefits are hard to see. This also means they have few supporters.

Professor Adam: 

(after listening, he is silent for a moment—not from hesitation, but as if he wants the question to resonate fully in the air, before voicing something that has long existed quietly in his heart)
Henry…

You have just described a truth that… perhaps very few dare to say out loud:

The path of science today is attractive because its results are easy to see.

While the Principles—or the “super-science” in religion—are hard to feel, hard to understand, and hard to reap, so few people enter.

Experimental science brings us phones, the internet, artificial intelligence, robots, space exploration, and medical intervention.

It solves our immediate fears.

It provides tools instantly.

But the Principles?

They do not give you anything you can immediately hold.

They do not entertain, they do not “optimize the user experience.”

In fact, they require people to let go—while science makes people want to possess.

(The Professor pauses for a beat, then slowly continues.)

But therein lies… the essence of the two paths.

Modern science is a downhill path, smooth, paved with bright stones—with lights to guide the way.

The Principles are an uphill path—rocky and rough, with no signposts, and sometimes you must walk in the dark.

One path is chosen by many—because it satisfies desires.

The other is walked by few—because it demands the letting go of delusions.

I am not saying one is right and the other is wrong.

But I know this:

The heavens never force anyone.

They only place a door—and wait to see who is quiet enough to see it.

The Principles—whether of Buddha, the Lord, or the Tao—

always come as a grace, not as a product.

And that grace… only manifests when a person stops looking with their eyes—and starts feeling with their heart.

Why do so few enter?

Because they do not see the immediate “benefits.”

But Henry…

The more precious, the deeper, the more real something is—

the more silent it is, the more sparing with words, and the less it vies for attention.

Science often says:

“We have proof!”

While the Principles often just say:

“If you have the heart, you will know.”

So, it is not because the Principles are not right, but because:

In this age, people are accustomed to the light from screens,

so when they see a ray of light coming from within—they perceive it as darkness.

(…..)

This article is an excerpt from the book “SUNSET AND SUNRISE OF SCIENCE” – a vision that transcends conventional dialectical thinking to embrace revelations from God.

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