The New Evolution: Now with Spine, Small Talk, and Super Sight

Science has always marched forward; slowly, methodically, sometimes accidentally, and often entirely misunderstood by those it’s trying to help. But occasionally, it throws up breakthroughs so poetic, so wildly symbolic, you begin to wonder if Nature is sending passive-aggressive messages through lab results.

In just the past few months, scientists have:

• Grown a literal human spine in a lab;
• Decoded the conversational etiquette of marmoset monkeys; and
• Developed contact lenses that give humans night vision, even with their eyes closed.

Yes, you read that right. You can now close your eyes and still see in the dark, a perfect evolutionary response to a world where shutting one’s eyes is often the default coping strategy.

These three breakthroughs may seem disparate, but together, they form a tantalising vision of Homo Sapiens 2.0 — stronger, more civil, and far harder to fool in the dark. Just a vision though; no one can guarantee given our past experience. And perhaps I can relate it to an industry that I have been associated with for long.

So let’s take them one by one, and then, delightfully, mix them like a science smoothie for the soul of modern finance.

Growing a Spine 
In a stunning feat of regenerative medicine, scientists have grown primitive spinal columns in petri dishes. These aren’t just amorphous blobs; they’re segmented, vertebrae-like structures complete with neural tissues. For medical science, this opens the door to potential cures for spinal injuries.

But for the rest of us, especially those observing the political, bureaucratic and corporate jungle, there’s a certain poetic justice to this. In a world notoriously short on metaphorical backbones, it’s as though science finally threw up its hands and said: “Fine. I’ll build the spine myself.”

So, here we are, outsourcing courage to petri dishes. The backbone, once a lofty metaphor for moral resolve, is now just another line item in the biotech pipeline. And honestly, that tracks. The only problem is that whether it sells, especially when it doesn’t pay. Imagine the next financial crisis (tentatively pencilled in for Q3, based on historical averages). A CEO of a major bank appears before the public, no longer slouching behind legalese, but standing tall thanks to his gleaming lab-grown lumbar enhancement. “This time,” he declares, “I take full responsibility.”

Compensation committees begin issuing spine-linked bonuses rather than stoop-linked ones. Rating agencies roll out a new Vertebral Integrity Index. The Basel Committee mandates that systemically important banks maintain a minimum moral vertebrae ratio.

It’s the compliance revolution we didn’t know we needed.

Monkey Talk 
While we were busy shouting at each other across trading desks, television panels, and LinkedIn posts, scientists quietly discovered that marmoset monkeys engage in civilised, turn-taking conversations dubbed “phee-call dialogues.”

These aren’t just primal screeches. The monkeys pause. They respond. They don’t interrupt. They sound more diplomatic than most humans during earnings calls or a modern television debate.

This is evolution showing us how it's done, and doing it in the rainforest, far from annual general meetings.

In the financial world, this discovery could revolutionise communication: on trading floors, where current dialogue resembles WWE brawls on Red Bull; or finfluencer podcasts, where hot takes are delivered at decibel levels only dogs can appreciate; or Zoom earnings calls, where executives speak for 45 minutes without answering a single question.

Enter the Marmoset Model. Imagine a world where hedge fund managers take turns, activist investors listen, and crypto bros wait their turn in Twitter Spaces before launching into 13-part threads on freedom, fiat, and frogs. New fintech products like Monkey Tone, a vocal training app for bankers, based on primate etiquette or a JayPee Marmoset, an AI assistant that gently intervenes when you’re about to interrupt your CFO — could soon emerge. Investor relations departments start hiring primatologists instead of communications consultants. Bank earnings calls and customer cares could be conducted entirely in phee-calls that are clearer, kinder, and refreshingly honest. And just maybe, financial journalism, long allergic to pauses, finally gets a scoop by simply listening.

Eyes Wide Shut
And now, for the most sci-fi of the trio: contact lenses that give you night vision, even when your eyes are closed. These ultra-thin, infrared-sensitive marvels effectively turn you into a walking surveillance drone. Think Batman, minus the trauma.

According to New Scientist, these lenses can pick up faint flickers of infrared in pitch darkness. Which begs the question: why would anyone want to see with their eyes closed?

Simple. Because humans have long been drawn to superpowers that don’t require accountability. Inner vision is difficult. Outer omniscience is just tech-enabled.

In finance, the applications are deliciously obvious. Audit committees can now spot off-balance-sheet sins in real time. Private equity partners can identify distressed assets from 10 km away, through the fog of tax structures. Central banks can finally see inflation sneaking up before it makes its quarterly debut in a sanitised PDF and may have the benefit of early warnings before financial stability is at stake.

And for retail investors, long trapped in the darkness of opaque disclosures, insider algorithms, and triple-leveraged ETFs. At last, they can see the fine print before it sees them. Provided they are allowed to buy — and can afford to!

Now, let’s combine all three.

In the grand theatre of evolution, we’ve stopped waiting for Nature’s casting call and started rewriting our roles. We’re retrofitting ourselves with (stronger) back bones, smarter instincts, and hopefully, better judgment.

But all the enhancements in the world won’t help if we still refuse to see other people’s points of view, won’t stand up for what’s right, and/or still mistake noise for dialogue.

Science has handed us the tools. Whether we become Homo Responsibilis or merely better-equipped Homo Ridiculus, that’s still up to us.

So, here’s to a future that’s brighter, more civil, and finally standing tall.

Now wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes — even with them closed?