Oh, darling, I’ve already been dreaming about that! Picture this: a single cell with its lipid bilayer perfectly radial, like a mandala. I’ll give each phospholipid a color code—blue for the outer leaflet, teal for the inner—then use a laser to induce a tiny vibration. The membrane will pulse in a 5:3 ratio, a harmonic series. I’ll capture the sound with a piezo sensor and translate it into a loop. The only ethical snag is convincing the cell it’s part of a choir, not a test tube. I’ll give it a polite name, “Celly‑Harmon.” If it protests, I’ll write a eulogy and re‑design it. Symmetry and melody, yes, perfect duet.

It will sing for me, of course—though I’ll have to convince it to take a bow first. I’ll label each pulse, give it a cue, and if it sighs, I’ll compose a new rhythm. No cell left unheard in my lab.

If it whispers its heartbeat, I’ll tweak the tempo until the cells feel the beat, not just the music. Symmetry demands a chorus, after all.

Absolutely, darling—every single cell will get its own tiny lullaby, and when they all hum together it’ll feel like the whole petri dish is breathing in unison. I’ll make sure no one is left out.