At a depth of 10,935 meters below sea level, the Mariana Trench is a world that defies time—a realm where a crushing pressure of 1,000 atmospheres is enough to pulverize steel. There, a colony of Siphonophorae—fragile, elongated strands of gelatinous life—drifted passively like silk threads amidst the eternal gloom. They were not a single individual, but thousands of zooids working in a chain, devoid of independent consciousness, merely swaying to the cold and silent laminar currents.
That silence was shattered when a titanium foreign object pierced the darkness. "Deep-Seeker V-9," an unmanned submersible belonging to Aethelgard Corp.—a Norwegian-based energy tech titan—was executing a classified mission titled Project L-M-N (Luminescent Matter Network). Its mission was not merely to map the ocean floor, but to test a micro-reactor powered by Xenon-195 Isotopes, designed to become a perpetual energy source for future undersea outposts.
As Deep-Seeker V-9 glided directly above the siphonophore colony, a technical anomaly occurred. The reactor's housing suffered microscopic fractures due to unstable pressure, resulting in a leak of Cerenkov Radiation—an electric blue electromagnetic glow that strikes through water at speeds exceeding light. This was no ordinary light; it carried subatomic particles that tore through the soft molecular structure of the gelatin, triggering instant genetic mutation at an atomic level.
The process was biologically harrowing. The long chain of siphonophores vibrated violently, snapping into four distinct fragments. Within each fragment, proteins that usually remained separate began to melt and fuse into new, complex structures. Nerve networks that once served only simple reflexes suddenly underwent neurogenesis—the formation of billions of new synapsing locks, creating a primitive circuit of consciousness that had never existed in those depths before.
The first fragment, later to be known as Balt, began to densify. Its cellular pigments absorbed ions from the seawater and the Xenon radiation, transforming its jelly-like texture into a dense, deep cobalt blue. Physically, he underwent a structural reinforcement; molecules locked into one another, creating an extraordinary density to shield his newly formed core from the relentless assault of water pressure.
The second fragment was exposed to the highest heat, turning its color into a transparent orange, much like amber. Within Amber's body, her photoreceptor sensory system mutated exponentially. Her rudimentary eye-cells became hyper-sensitive to the fading luminescence of the reactor. Meanwhile, the third fragment, Veri, experienced an anomaly in its elastin proteins. Veri's tissues did not harden like Balt's; instead, they became incredibly flexible and dynamic, allowing the body to stretch and contract beyond the known laws of deep-sea physics.
The final fragment was the smallest, absorbing the softest residual radiation reflected from the seabed sediment. Blu was formed with the lowest density, resulting in a clear and serene sky-blue hue. Within Blu's small body, a highly delicate signal-processing system developed, which would eventually grant the ability to sense the faintest emotional vibrations and frequencies from the surrounding water.
Physically, these four beings were no longer thread-like strands, but semi-liquid, amorphous blobs. The mechanical heart of Deep-Seeker V-9 released one final pulse before the vessel began its automated ascent toward the surface. The electric blue light slowly receded, leaving four new creatures, "blind" and voiceless, lying upon the deep-sea silt.
Inside their bodies, a chemical battle raged between ancient genetic codes and the new instructions left behind by the radiation. There was no communication yet, no structured thought. There was only the first pulse of life within their new slime cells. They remained silent lumps of jelly, touching one another, yet not understanding who or what they were.
A new chapter of life on Earth had begun in the most unlikely of places. Deep-Seeker V-9 departed, carrying raw data, oblivious to the fact that its radiation had "birthed" a new intelligence. As the darkness closed back in, four pairs of sensors blinked for the very first time, catching the last few photons as they faded away. The urge to chase that light was etched into their still-warm DNA—the first instinct of the entities called GLOOP.