Who Built the New Nephilim? Homo borgensis, Gene-Editing, and the Cost of Ignored Doubt

Cause Before Symptom - With Your Host James Carner

Who Built the New Nephilim? Homo borgensis, Gene-Editing, and the Cost of Ignored Doubt

Monologue: Homo Borgensis — The New Nephilim

Tonight we step into a shadow that is no longer the stuff of ancient myth, no longer relegated to the margins of prophecy or the whispers of conspiracy. The shadow has a name, a modern name — Homo borgensis. A name that sounds like it was born in a comic book, but it was born instead in the laboratory, at the crossroads of Pentagon contracts, DARPA roadmaps, and corporate patents. A name that means “the man of the machine, born again in a new genesis.”

For thousands of years, the story of the Nephilim has haunted our scriptures. “There were giants in the earth in those days,” the book of Genesis tells us, when the sons of God mingled with the daughters of men and produced something not quite human, not quite angel — a hybrid. In Noah’s day, it was flesh corrupted. Today, it may be code spliced into chromosomes, synthetic strands woven into the registry of life. Different methods, same result: a counterfeit creation, a challenge to the image of God written into our very being.

They will tell you it is impossible. They will tell you the science is settled. They will mock anyone who dares to suggest that gene-editing tools, synthetic chromosomes, or cDNA constructs could alter the essence of what we are. But history has always mocked the doubters — until time revealed the truth. The doctors once said thalidomide was safe. They said cigarettes were harmless. They said Vioxx would heal. They said radiation could cure what ailed you. And when the graves were filled, they shrugged and said, “Whoops.”

So I ask you, what arrogance drives a man to declare, with certainty, that the needle which delivers synthetic code into the temple of God’s creation could never alter that creation? What pride blinds an institution to think it can toy with the registry of life without consequence? Just because they say so, doesn’t mean they are right. And if history is any teacher, it means they are likely wrong.

Tonight, we will follow the paper trail — the contracts, the labs, the programs hidden under “defense” and “biosecurity.” We will read the documents where DARPA dreams aloud of inserting new chromosomes, where the Pentagon funds projects to rewire insects, pathogens, and yes, even mammalian genomes. And we will set those documents beside the Word of God, which tells us plainly: there is nothing new under the sun. The Nephilim of Noah’s day wore flesh and bone; the Nephilim of our day may wear patents and silicon.

This is not science fiction. This is not hysteria. This is the cold rhythm of history: men reaching for power they cannot control, building towers they cannot finish, and inviting judgments they cannot bear. Homo borgensis is the name the technocrats whisper, but I will give it another name — a new Nephilim. And the Bible tells us what became of them.
Stay with me.

Part 1 — Origins of the Name and the Fear

The name Homo borgensis is not ancient, but it borrows power from both science and myth. The word “homo” ties it to our human lineage — homo erectus, homo sapiens, homo sapiens sapiens. Every new branch in the tree of man has carried both promise and peril. And then comes “borgensis” — a grafted word. “Borg,” for assimilation, the collective of man and machine. And “genesis,” the act of beginning, of creation. Together it whispers: “the new man has been born, but not by God’s hand.”

Where did this language come from? Some trace it to sloppy anthropology — misreadings of heidelbergensis or antecessor. But in the last two decades, it has been pulled into transhumanist talk. Journalists, technocrats, even Pentagon scientists have quietly used the term as shorthand for what lies beyond us — the engineered human, part biological, part synthetic. DARPA calls their programs “Safe Genes,” “Insect Allies,” “Advanced Tools for Mammalian Genome Engineering.” It sounds sterile. But underneath, it is the same dream: to write a new species into the registry of life.

The fear around this name is not groundless. For centuries, the march of science has been tethered to the hope of control — control over disease, over fertility, over the environment, over death itself. And each time we take another step, we are told this is progress, this is salvation. But Homo borgensis embodies a darker kind of salvation — one born not of redemption but of reprogramming. A salvation where man becomes his own creator.

The ancients called them Nephilim. Today the technocrats call them hybrids, cyborgs, transhumans. Different language, same impulse. The drive to build something greater than man, but without God. The Bible told us plainly what happened in the days of Noah: “all flesh had corrupted its way upon the earth.” The corruption was not just moral, it was genetic, it was cosmic. God preserved Noah because his generations — his DNA — were still whole.

So when you hear the name Homo borgensis, don’t dismiss it as wordplay. It is a banner. A flag planted in advance by those who dream of remaking mankind. They whisper the name into the culture so that by the time the engineered child is born, the shock has already been softened. They want you ready to accept it.

And here is the warning: names have power. When elites name a thing, they often reveal more than they intend. To call it borgensis is to admit that assimilation is the endgame, that man and machine are being joined in a genesis not of heaven but of the laboratory. It is a counterfeit creation story. And if history holds true, it is also a warning of judgment to come.

Part 1 — Origins of the Name and the Fear

The name Homo borgensis is not ancient, but it borrows power from both science and myth. The word “homo” ties it to our human lineage — homo erectus, homo sapiens, homo sapiens sapiens. Every new branch in the tree of man has carried both promise and peril. And then comes “borgensis” — a grafted word. “Borg,” for assimilation, the collective of man and machine. And “genesis,” the act of beginning, of creation. Together it whispers: “the new man has been born, but not by God’s hand.”

Where did this language come from? Some trace it to sloppy anthropology — misreadings of heidelbergensis or antecessor. But in the last two decades, it has been pulled into transhumanist talk. Journalists, technocrats, even Pentagon scientists have quietly used the term as shorthand for what lies beyond us — the engineered human, part biological, part synthetic. DARPA calls their programs “Safe Genes,” “Insect Allies,” “Advanced Tools for Mammalian Genome Engineering.” It sounds sterile. But underneath, it is the same dream: to write a new species into the registry of life.

The fear around this name is not groundless. For centuries, the march of science has been tethered to the hope of control — control over disease, over fertility, over the environment, over death itself. And each time we take another step, we are told this is progress, this is salvation. But Homo borgensis embodies a darker kind of salvation — one born not of redemption but of reprogramming. A salvation where man becomes his own creator.

The ancients called them Nephilim. Today the technocrats call them hybrids, cyborgs, transhumans. Different language, same impulse. The drive to build something greater than man, but without God. The Bible told us plainly what happened in the days of Noah: “all flesh had corrupted its way upon the earth.” The corruption was not just moral, it was genetic, it was cosmic. God preserved Noah because his generations — his DNA — were still whole.

So when you hear the name Homo borgensis, don’t dismiss it as wordplay. It is a banner. A flag planted in advance by those who dream of remaking mankind. They whisper the name into the culture so that by the time the engineered child is born, the shock has already been softened. They want you ready to accept it.

And here is the warning: names have power. When elites name a thing, they often reveal more than they intend. To call it borgensis is to admit that assimilation is the endgame, that man and machine are being joined in a genesis not of heaven but of the laboratory. It is a counterfeit creation story. And if history holds true, it is also a warning of judgment to come.

Part 2 — The Real Programs: Contracts, Contractors, and Classified Lines

If you want to follow the money and the paper trail, you will find the story in contracts and solicitation titles, not in the theatrics of social feeds. There are whole budgets, named programs, and recurring contractors that give us a sober map of capability and intent. The Defense Threat Reduction Agency quietly funds a global Cooperative Biological Engagement Program that places laboratories and project work in nations where oversight is weaker, and it pays outside firms to run the science. Those firms — names like Battelle, Metabiota, CH2M Hill, Southern Research and Black & Veatch — appear again and again in public contract records, which means the work is real, continuous, and routinized. The programs are often couched in the language of partnership, “capacity building,” or disease surveillance, but the technical deliverables recorded in those contracts include genome sequencing, collection and cataloging of regional biomes, studies of vectors, and support for high-containment labs where advanced work can be done. That combination — money, contractors, and classified or restricted reporting — is how dual-use capability migrates from a research paper into an operational asset.

DARPA and related Defense science shops do the same thing at a different scale and with different branding. Public solicitations and program names — “Safe Genes,” “Insect Allies,” “Advanced Tools for Mammalian Genome Engineering,” and others — tell you the technical ambitions without spelling out intent in moral language: tools to edit genomes reliably, delivery platforms that work in the wild, ways to control traits across populations. Those program descriptions are not fantasies; they are funding ask-sheets and technical roadmaps reviewed by peer panels and awarded to firms that already have lab capacity. When a program explicitly discusses inserting synthetic chromosomes or engineering insects to carry modified payloads, you do not need a conspiracy theory to be alarmed; you simply need to read the contract language and recognize the plausible pathway from “research” to “capability.”

Classified lines and diplomatic cover deepen the worry. Some projects are run under agreements that limit public disclosure and give foreign facilities and U.S. personnel certain privileges; in practice that can mean access and control over samples, data, and operational decisions without the usual transparency. Private contractors often perform the hands-on work, meaning there is less congressional scrutiny and more commercial insulation. Add to that the existence of Top Secret facilities and historical programs that tested dissemination methods and entomological vectors, and you see how capability to engineer and distribute biological effects is not merely theoretical. The documents show a system: fund the basic science, outsource the lab work, protect sensitive steps behind classification or diplomatic arrangements, and retain plausible deniability by framing projects as defensive or capacity-building. That is the architecture that makes a Homo borgensis scenario technically plausible even if it remains unproven as an accomplished reality.

We will go deeper into specific contract lines and program language in the dossier, but the pattern is clear now: repeated contractor names, recurring program titles, and a mix of open solicitations plus restricted reporting create an ecosystem where powerful actors can pursue genome engineering at scale without ordinary public oversight. That is the hard fact we must wrestle with — not the shouted meme that a court already declared people “patented,” but the quiet, documented build of tools that could remake what it means to be human.

Part 3 — The Tools of Creation: CRISPR, cDNA, Synthetic Chromosomes, and Delivery Platforms

To talk about Homo borgensis honestly, we must speak plainly about the tools people whisper about in labs and program offices. These are not magic; they are engineering steps, and knowing what each tool actually does is the difference between sensible fear and sensational panic. Start with CRISPR. At heart CRISPR is a molecular pair of scissors guided by a tiny address tag — it finds a sequence in a genome and cuts. That cut can disable a gene, and when a cell repairs the break it can introduce changes. In lab settings scientists use CRISPR to alter traits, to knock out genes that cause disease, or to insert new sequences. Conceptually simple, technically fussy, ethically loaded. CRISPR is the technology most often named when people imagine edited humans; it’s powerful, but it’s also blunt and error-prone in many contexts, which is why the scientific community has both raced and hesitated to push it into the human germline.

Next is cDNA and synthetic constructs. cDNA is a lab-made copy of an RNA message — it’s not the same as the natural stretch of DNA inside a cell, and the Supreme Court’s Myriad decision dealt with whether naturally occurring sequences and lab-made constructs are patentable, not whether people become property. Lab-made DNA, synthetic genes, and even whole synthetic chromosomes are technical possibilities: researchers have built small synthetic chromosomes in cell culture as a way to deliver sets of genes that behave together. The moral red flag here is that synthetic chromosomes are by design persistent and heritable inside the cells that accept them; they are a route toward stable change rather than a temporary tweak. That difference — transient versus permanent, somatic versus germline — is the hinge on which the whole debate turns.

Delivery is the practical bottleneck and the moral danger. You can design a sequence in a computer, but getting it into the right tissue, into enough cells, and in the right form to change an organism is fiendishly hard. Two broad delivery strategies dominate public discussion: viral vectors and non-viral nanoparticles. Viral vectors hijack a virus’s efficient cell-entry machinery to carry a genetic payload; they are effective but raise concerns because of immune reactions and the chance of insertion near human genes that cause cancer. Lipid nanoparticles, the vehicle used to ferry mRNA in recent vaccines, are elegant and transient by design: they deliver RNA to the cytoplasm where it is translated and then degraded. That transient property is why many experts say mRNA vaccines are unlikely to rewrite genomes. Yet delivery research includes programs explicitly aimed at making delivery robust in wild conditions — for insects, for plants, for animals — and those programs shift the calculus because they seek population-scale effects rather than single-patient treatments.

There’s also the problem of target tissue and germline access. Editing somatic cells (the heart, the liver, the lungs) affects only the treated person and is, in principle, easier to regulate. Editing the germline — eggs, sperm, or embryos — creates inheritable changes and therefore a different ethical category altogether. The papers, solicitations, and contract descriptions we’ve pulled together show interest across these domains: safer somatic therapies, tools for population control of pests, and exploratory work that could someday touch germline methods. The difference between what is being discussed and what has been achieved is enormous, but the roadmap is visible: better editing tools, more reliable delivery, and longer-lasting constructs all point toward increased capability.

Finally, two lessons bind the technical to the spiritual. First, engineering intent matters: a tool can be used defensively or offensively, and dual-use research is the norm in biodefense. Second, secrecy and commercialization change incentives: when power, profit, and classification cluster around capability, the checks that slow risky tech — open peer review, broad ethical debate, and democratic oversight — are weakened. That is why documents showing DARPA solicitations or DTRA contracts do not prove a finished Homo borgensis, but they do show a plausible, funded route toward ever more durable and consequential biological modification. We must therefore treat the tools with respect, not myth: they are capable of real change, they are not inevitable miracles, and the responsibility for how they are used lies in the choices institutions and communities make today.

Part 4 — Where Myth Meets Method: Nephilim, Giants, and Cultural Memory

When we hear the name Homo borgensis, it resonates beyond science. It touches something older, deeper, and more primal in us — the ancient memory of hybrids that should not be. The scriptures describe the Nephilim as the offspring of a forbidden union: “the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them” (Genesis 6:4). These were beings of power, stature, and corruption — not fully angel, not fully human, but something in-between. They were the corruption that provoked God’s judgment on the earth in Noah’s day.

Today, the laboratory replaces the mountain altar, and the tools of CRISPR, synthetic chromosomes, and engineered viruses replace the forbidden mingling of angels and men. But the spirit is the same. It is the spirit of counterfeit creation — to build a race not authored by God. The ancients called them Nephilim. The modern technocrat whispers transhuman, posthuman, borgensis. Different words, same ambition.

And history shows us why these archetypes persist. Cultures around the world tell stories of giants, demigods, hybrids, or unnatural offspring. From the Titans of Greece, to the Anunnaki of Mesopotamia, to the Watchers of Enoch, humanity has always remembered a time when something “other” walked among men. Whether you treat those stories as literal or symbolic, they encode a warning: when the boundary between human and non-human is crossed, destruction follows.

That is why believers respond so viscerally when they hear of Pentagon labs experimenting with insects as vectors, DARPA programs seeking to edit mammalian genomes, or biotech firms building artificial chromosomes. We are not just reacting to science — we are remembering the oldest story we know: that corruption of flesh brings judgment. What once was myth is now written in program solicitations and research contracts.

So, when we place the myth beside the method, we see the warning in stereo. The method says: “we can do this.” The myth says: “we have done this before, and it ended in ruin.” The challenge for us today is not to confuse myth with science, nor to dismiss the resonance of myth as irrelevant, but to let the ancient memory sharpen our discernment. To say clearly: if we repeat the days of Noah by creating hybrids in our laboratories, we should not be surprised if we inherit the judgment of Noah’s flood.

Part 5 — Documented Experiments That Raise Real Questions

It is one thing to speak of myths and archetypes, but what about the hard evidence? What do the paper trails, contracts, and lab reports actually reveal? When we strip away the hype and propaganda, we still find enough to disturb anyone who takes scripture seriously.

Take the Lugar Center in Tbilisi, Georgia. On paper, it is a disease research facility funded by the U.S. Defense Threat Reduction Agency (DTRA). In practice, documents show it has been a hub for projects on anthrax, tularemia, Crimean-Congo Hemorrhagic Fever, and even the collection of thousands of ticks and insects for study. Private contractors like Battelle and Metabiota worked there under diplomatic cover, shielded from oversight, despite not being diplomats. These firms are not novices: Battelle has a history of classified bioweapons research dating back decades, and Metabiota was contracted during the Ebola outbreak in West Africa.

Then there is DARPA’s Safe Genes and Insect Allies programs. These are not hidden — the solicitations are public. Safe Genes funds teams to develop tools that can precisely control or edit genomes in mammals, including reversible gene drives. Insect Allies seeks to engineer insects that can deliver modified genetic material to crops. The stated goal is food security, but the subtext is clear: once you can reliably insert genetic payloads via insects, the line between agriculture and human populations is perilously thin.

We also see patterns of experiments on entomological warfare. Declassified U.S. Army reports describe past projects where mosquitoes, fleas, and sand flies were deliberately infected and tested as vectors of disease. Today, we read of “surveillance” projects collecting biting flies and mosquitoes in Georgia and Russia, species not native to those climates suddenly appearing after U.S.-funded projects began. Local populations reported being bitten indoors, all year round — a behavior unnatural for those species before. The coincidence raises questions the official story does not answer.

DARPA’s mammalian genome engineering projects add another layer. One contract described inserting an additional artificial chromosome into human cells as a delivery platform. It is cloaked in the language of therapeutic research, but the mechanism — to alter the body’s registry of life itself — echoes the very fears people have about Homo borgensis.

None of these documents prove that a new Nephilim has already been born in a lab. But they show the plausibility. They show an appetite for dual-use research, the deliberate outsourcing to private contractors for deniability, and the quiet pursuit of technologies that could alter human life at its foundations. This is not rumor or telegram hysteria; it is written in contracts, budgets, and program reports.

So when someone asks, “Why are you worried about Homo borgensis? Isn’t that just science fiction?” you can point to these records and answer: “If the tools exist, if the money flows, and if the secrecy shields them, then the possibility is not fiction — it is policy.” And policy, unchecked, becomes practice.

Part 6 — The Patent and Legal Myth

There is a simple legal truth that gets turned into a terrifying lie by bad reading and bad intent: patents give exclusive rights over inventions, not ownership of people. The Supreme Court’s decision in Association for Molecular Pathology v. Myriad Genetics dealt narrowly with whether isolated, naturally occurring DNA sequences are patentable. The Court said they are not; it distinguished those natural sequences from cDNA — lab-made copies of messenger RNA that lack noncoding regions — and allowed some patent protection for engineered constructs. That is a narrow, technical point about what kinds of molecular claims meet the legal test for invention, novelty, and human handiwork. It is not, and never was, a ruling that turns a vaccinated or genetically altered person into a corporate chattel. The difference between “patent on a synthetic sequence” and “title to a human being” is not hairline semantics; it is the whole edifice of modern law and human rights.

How the myth forms is predictable. Someone finds a Supreme Court slip opinion, highlights phrases about cDNA or synthetic constructs, omits the limiting language, and then layers a conspiratorial inference on top — patented sequence equals patented person. Then the story hops onto social platforms that reward outrage. The result is propaganda that looks like legal argument but collapses under even modest scrutiny: courts and legislatures recognize basic human personhood as outside the domain of patent claims, and international human-rights instruments bar enslavement or property status for persons. Patent offices and judges decide whether a molecule or method is patentable; they do not, and cannot, adjudicate personhood or transfer human rights by issuing a patent.

There is a related but distinct worry that feeds the myth and that deserves our attention: companies and labs do hold patents on engineered sequences, delivery systems, and therapeutic methods, and those patents can give firms market power and control over technologies that touch bodies. Patents can restrict who may make, use, or sell a patented product, and that creates control over access to treatments, over follow-on research, and over commercial deployment. That is a real policy concern — monopoly control over essential technologies — but it is not the same thing as legal ownership of people. The right response to this real worry is civic and legal pressure: stronger regulatory oversight, compulsory licensing in health emergencies, antitrust scrutiny, and public funding for open science, not wild claims that courts have declared vaccinated people “products.”

Another legal line people confuse is the difference between property rights and contractual or corporate governance. In some contexts, companies can claim rights over strains, cell lines, or engineered organisms they create; courts have enforced those property-like rights over laboratory materials. That legal logic never extends to natural persons under U.S. constitutional and statutory law. Even if an engineered cell line derived from human tissue is owned by an institution, that institutional “ownership” is a narrow legal mechanism limited to biological materials in laboratory contexts, not a ruling about the status of living human persons in society. Conflating those domains is a rhetorical sleight of hand common in disinformation.

Finally, the patent myth serves a political purpose: it terrifies and mobilizes people while steering attention away from the real, provable problems we should be wrestling with — secret contracts, dual-use research, opaque procurement channels, and corporate capture of critical public-health tools. If the public chases a fantasy about “patented humans,” then the hard work of demanding transparency, reforming procurement, and insisting on independent long-term safety studies gets sidelined. For your show, the responsible move is to expose the bad legal reading clearly and swiftly while using that moment to point listeners to the real policy levers that need pressure: patent reform where public health is concerned, mandatory transparency for defense-funded research, stronger ethical review for germline work, and support for independent science that monitors long-term biological effects.

Part 7 — Historical Precedents: When Medicine Said “Settled” and Time Said “Whoops”

To understand why suspicion of Homo borgensis matters, you have to see the rhythm of history. Again and again, the guardians of medicine and science declared a thing safe, proven, and beyond question — only for time to expose it as folly, negligence, or worse.
Thalidomide was marketed in the 1950s as the gentle pill that calmed nausea in pregnancy. Doctors reassured mothers it was harmless. By the time the truth emerged, tens of thousands of children had been born with missing limbs and other deformities. What had been settled science was revealed as one of the great scandals of modern pharmacology.

Diethylstilbestrol — DES — was given to women to prevent miscarriages. It was hailed as a miracle drug. Decades later, it became clear that daughters of those women developed rare cancers and reproductive damage. A promise of life became a curse passed down generations.

Cigarettes once carried the smiling faces of doctors in white coats, assuring the public that smoking soothed nerves and cleared the chest. For decades the medical establishment was slow to connect tobacco with lung cancer, bowing to industry money and pressure. How many graves were filled while the “settled” voices kept repeating the line?

Vioxx was launched in the late 1990s as a breakthrough painkiller. The data said safe, the ads said proven. But tens of thousands of patients later, the hidden heart risks forced its withdrawal, and lawsuits revealed how much the manufacturer had known and downplayed.

Even the materials of daily life bear witness. Lead was once laced into gasoline, paint, and plumbing, defended by industry and regulators as safe. Now we know it robbed generations of children of their brain development. Radiation too was once sold as a cure: radium water, X-ray shoe fitters, glowing tonics. By the time cancer clusters exposed the cost, it was too late for the first victims.

The pattern is undeniable: what was called safe, what was marketed as progress, what was defended as “settled,” was often later confessed as catastrophic error. The cycle is always the same: promise, promotion, denial, revelation, apology. And always too late for those already harmed.

That is why the present claims about mRNA, gene editing, or synthetic chromosomes cannot be swallowed without discernment. It is not enough to say, “The mechanism says it can’t alter your DNA.” Mechanisms once said cigarettes soothed the lungs. Mechanisms once said thalidomide was harmless. Mechanisms once said radium was healing.

If the past teaches us anything, it is this: just because they say so, doesn’t mean they are right. The graveyards of the last century are filled with the victims of scientific arrogance. And when you hear the phrase Homo borgensis, you are hearing the next great arrogance announced in advance.

Part 8 — Moral Architecture: Who Decides What a Human Is?

At the core of this debate lies a question that no scientist, no Pentagon program, no biotech patent board has the right to answer: what is a human being? For millennia, the answer was anchored in the conviction that man is made in the image of God, a living soul breathed into flesh, a creature of dignity beyond measure. Our laws, our rights, our sense of morality all flow from that foundation. But when engineers speak of synthetic chromosomes, when defense programs speak of altering mammalian genomes, when venture capital speaks of the “post-human,” we see that foundation under assault.

The language itself gives it away. They do not say “son” or “daughter.” They say “platform.” They do not say “flesh and blood.” They say “host.” They do not say “image of God.” They say “resource.” The human is quietly recast as a chassis, a carrier, a medium to be upgraded or repurposed. This is the moral architecture of the coming age — a world where humanity is defined not by its origin in God, but by its utility to systems of power.

And who decides? Not the people whose bodies are altered. Not the families who live with the consequences. The decision is made in boardrooms, behind classified doors, or inside laboratories funded by agencies whose mandate is “threat reduction” but whose work opens up new threats beyond imagining. The authority is claimed by those with patents and contracts, not by those who bear the risks. It is a silent theft: not only of health, but of identity itself.

From a theological view, this is the oldest lie in the book. In Eden, the serpent said, “Ye shall be as gods.” Today the technocrat whispers the same promise: “You shall be upgraded. You shall be stronger, smarter, longer-lived. You will evolve beyond the limits of mortality.” But the serpent never told Eve what would be lost. In the same way, the architects of Homo borgensis do not confess the price — that in seeking to surpass man, they risk destroying man altogether.

This is why vigilance is not paranoia but duty. Because if we surrender the definition of “human” to the laboratory and the contractor, then what it means to be made in God’s image will be rewritten without our consent. And once rewritten, it cannot be undone. Just as the Nephilim of old marked a point of no return that required divine judgment, so too does the specter of Homo borgensis confront us with the same question: will we guard the boundaries of creation, or will we yield them to those who see us not as children of God, but as clay to be molded for their designs?

Part 9 — Attack Surface: How the Elite Narrative, Propaganda, and Panic Work Together

Here is the cruelest irony: the more shocking the truth, the easier it is to bury beneath layers of falsehood. The architects of power know this. They have learned to defend their programs not only with classification and redacted documents, but with noise. On one side, you have the official line — “safe, effective, necessary, settled science.” On the other side, you have wild claims — “vaccinated people are patented property,” “you are no longer human under the law.” Both serve the same master, because they keep the public from looking squarely at the sober evidence in the middle.

When a Pentagon contractor wins millions to insert synthetic chromosomes into mammalian cells, that fact should make headlines. When DARPA funds insect vectors to deliver engineered payloads into living organisms, the churches should rise up and demand answers. But instead, the news cycle fills with two competing narratives: the mainstream mocking any dissent as “conspiracy,” and the alternative channels pushing memes that overreach and misquote Supreme Court opinions. The result is the same: the public tunes out, overwhelmed, unable to separate fact from fiction.

This is how the enemy works in every age. Confusion is a weapon. Babylon thrived on divided tongues. Rome thrived on bread and circus. Our elites thrive on disinformation and distraction. If you are chasing the lie that you are already patented property, you will never notice the real contracts and solicitations that build the scaffolding for a future where humanity is treated as raw material. And if you are lulled by the mainstream line that “nothing to see here, trust the science,” you will not press for oversight, hearings, or independent inquiry.

So the attack surface is not only the lab or the genome — it is the mind of the public. By flooding it with contradictions, they make it impossible to focus on the provable. And in that fog, the real work continues. The patents are filed. The contracts are signed. The labs are built. The definitions of life are quietly shifted.

To expose this, we must walk a narrow road. We cannot parrot the mainstream, because history shows they are too often wrong. We cannot parrot the hysteria, because it collapses under scrutiny. We must hold the line in the middle: naming what is documented, rejecting what is false, and interpreting both in the light of prophecy. Only then can we see the battlefield clearly. And only then can the Church understand what kind of war we are in — not of flesh and blood, but of truth and deception, of creation and counterfeit creation.

Part 10 — A Pastoral and Practical Closing

We have walked through names and myths, through programs and patents, through the graveyards of history and the smoke of present confusion. The picture that emerges is not a single headline, not a one-sentence scandal, but a pattern. It is the pattern of men who believe they can out-create the Creator. The pattern of institutions that declare certainty today, only to issue apologies tomorrow. The pattern of elites who fund projects in shadows while distracting the public with noise. And it is the pattern of judgment that follows every time humanity crosses the boundary of what it means to be made in God’s image.

So what do we do with Homo borgensis? We do not laugh it off as science fiction. We do not swallow whole the propaganda that says vaccinated people are already patented chattel. We do not lull ourselves to sleep with the lullaby of “settled science.” Instead, we stand where watchmen must stand: on the walls, warning, discerning, praying, and refusing to surrender the definition of human life to those who would reduce us to platforms, hosts, or resources.

Practically, this means demanding transparency from the programs we fund with our tax dollars. It means calling on our lawmakers to open the books on DARPA’s “Safe Genes” and the Pentagon’s overseas labs. It means supporting investigative journalists who trace the contracts and follow the money when mainstream media will not. It means pastors and Christian leaders must step up, not hiding behind vague platitudes about science and faith, but engaging with the ethical questions head-on: What does it mean to be made in God’s image? What line must never be crossed? And what should the church say when the world seeks to birth a new Nephilim in the laboratory?

Spiritually, it means holding fast to the truth that our identity is not in what is done to our flesh but in Who breathed life into us. It means refusing to be assimilated into the Borg-like collective of transhumanist dreams, and instead remaining grafted into the Vine who is Christ. It means praying not only for protection, but for clarity, so that we do not lose sight of the real threats while chasing phantoms.

And above all, it means remembering that judgment always follows corruption. In Noah’s day, the earth was filled with violence, and all flesh had corrupted its way. Yet God preserved a remnant whose generations were still whole. Today, as the world toys with the registry of life, we too must be that remnant — undefiled, watchful, and faithful.
Because in the end, the story is not about DARPA or patents or Pentagon contracts. It is about the oldest war in the universe: the attempt to counterfeit creation and steal the glory of God. Homo borgensis is just the latest mask of the same rebellion. And the answer remains the same: “As it was in the days of Noah, so shall it be also in the days of the Son of Man.”

Stay vigilant, stay awake, and stay in the image of the One who made you. That is the only safeguard when giants rise again.

Conclusion — Homo Borgensis: The New Nephilim

We began with a strange word — Homo borgensis — and tonight we have traced it from the pages of anthropology into the laboratories of DARPA, from the myths of giants into the contracts of defense contractors, from the whispers of prophecy into the headlines of science. What we find is not one neat revelation, but a repeating pattern: men reaching beyond their God-given bounds, confident they can re-write the registry of life without consequence. Every age that has tried has paid the price.

The Nephilim of Genesis were hybrids, born of a union God forbade, and their corruption filled the earth until only Noah and his household remained untainted. The Nephilim of today wear different clothing — gene-edited chromosomes, patented constructs, Pentagon contracts, and corporate roadmaps. But the spirit is the same: counterfeit creation, rebellion disguised as progress.

We have seen how history mocks “settled science.” Thalidomide, DES, Vioxx, tobacco, lead, radiation — all declared safe until the graves were full. We have seen how propaganda on both sides blinds the public, how the myth of “patented humans” distracts from the hard evidence of funded programs. We have seen how secrecy, money, and arrogance create the perfect storm where mistakes are not only possible but inevitable.

So the message is this: just because they say so, doesn’t mean they are right. And if the past is any guide, the louder they insist, the more likely time will expose the gross miscalculation. Our task is not to surrender to panic, nor to swallow official assurances, but to stand in vigilance — to pray, to discern, to demand transparency, and to remember that we are not clay for technocrats to mold, but children of the Living God, made in His image.

The giants may rise again, clothed in patents and pixels, but they will fall the same way the first ones did: under the judgment of the Creator they sought to replace. And until that day comes, it is our duty to speak, to watch, and to stand as Noah did — faithful in a world that forgot what it means to be human.

Bibliography and Endnotes

1. Association for Molecular Pathology v. Myriad Genetics, Inc., 569 U.S. 576 (2013). U.S. Supreme Court decision clarifying that naturally occurring DNA sequences are not patentable, while synthetic cDNA can be.
Full text: https://www.supremecourt.gov/opinions/12pdf/12-398_1b7d.pdf
2. “Vaccinated Legally Not Human.” Truth11.com (March 1, 2022). Viral article misreading the Myriad ruling to claim vaccinated people are patented “products.” Document recovered in PDF form .
3. Dilyana Gaytandzhieva. The Pentagon Bio-weapons (Dilyana.bg, 2018). Investigative dossier documenting U.S. Defense Threat Reduction Agency (DTRA) programs in Georgia and Ukraine, contractors including Battelle and Metabiota, and DARPA gene-editing initiatives .
4. DARPA Program Solicitation HR0011-17-S-0026, “Safe Genes.” (2017). Public DARPA call for proposals to develop tools for genome editing, control, and reversibility.
Available: https://www.darpa.mil/news-events/2017-07-19
5. DARPA Program Solicitation HR0011-16-C-0114, “Insect Allies.” (2016). Public DARPA program to explore engineered insect vectors for delivery of genetic material to crops.
Overview: https://www.darpa.mil/program/insect-allies
6. U.S. Army Chemical Corps. Entomological Warfare Trials (Declassified Reports, 1950s–1960s). Tests on mosquitoes, fleas, and sand flies as potential vectors of disease in warfare scenarios.
7. Jørgensen, T. R., et al. “Reverse-transcribed SARS-CoV-2 RNA can integrate into the genome of cultured human cells and can be expressed in patient-derived tissues.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 118, no. 21 (2021). Study noting LINE-1 mediated reverse transcription in vitro.
8. McBride, W. G. “Thalidomide and congenital abnormalities.” The Lancet 278, no. 7216 (1961): 1358. Landmark report exposing the teratogenic effects of thalidomide.
9. Herbst, A. L., et al. “Adenocarcinoma of the vagina: association of maternal stilbestrol therapy with tumor appearance in young women.” New England Journal of Medicine 284, no. 16 (1971): 878–881. First major study linking DES exposure to rare cancers in daughters.
10. U.S. Surgeon General’s Report on Smoking and Health (1964). The first official recognition of tobacco’s link to cancer despite decades of industry denial.
11. Topol, Eric. “Failing the Public Health — Rofecoxib, Merck, and the FDA.” New England Journal of Medicine351, no. 17 (2004): 1707–1709. Analysis of the Vioxx scandal and hidden cardiovascular risks.
12. Markowitz, Gerald, and David Rosner. Deceit and Denial: The Deadly Politics of Industrial Pollution. University of California Press, 2002. Detailed history of the lead and chemical industry cover-ups.
13. Rowland, Richard E. “The Radium Girls: Women and Industrial Health Reform, 1910–1935.” The Journal of American History 76, no. 2 (1989): 674–675. Historical case study of radium poisoning.
14. Holy Bible, Genesis 6:4. “There were giants in the earth in those days…” Biblical anchor text for the Nephilim.

Sources

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