The auditorium hummed with the hushed expectancy of a well-fed beast. Rows of impeccably dressed scientists, investors, and journalists filled the plush velvet seats, their faces illuminated by the harsh glare of the stage lights. On the podium stood Dr. Alistair Humphrey, a figure as sharp and uncompromising as the angles of his tailored suit. He adjusted his glasses, a glint of cynical amusement in his eyes as he surveyed the expectant crowd.

Humphrey was a bioengineer of considerable renown, his name whispered with a mixture of respect and unease. His work, though groundbreaking, was often perceived as… provocative. He had a knack for dismantling cherished beliefs with the surgical precision of a laser scalpel, leaving the remnants of outdated dogma scattered in his wake.

"Good evening," he began, his voice a dry, resonant baritone that filled the hall. "Tonight, I'm not going to bore you with tedious data sets or incremental advancements in genetic modification. Instead, I want to talk about… stories."

A murmur rippled through the audience. Stories? From Alistair Humphrey? This was unexpected.

He continued, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. "Specifically, I want to talk about creation myths. Those quaint, fantastical narratives our ancestors concocted to explain the inexplicable. The sun god pulling his chariot across the sky. The great cosmic egg hatching the universe. And, of course," he paused for dramatic effect, "the particularly charming tale of Adam and Eve."

A collective rustle swept through the room. The Adam and Eve narrative, a cornerstone of Judeo-Christian belief, was an easy target for scientific scrutiny, but rarely did anyone dare to attack it so directly in such a public forum.

"Let's dissect this particular gem, shall we?" Humphrey gestured dismissively with his hand. "God, supposedly a being of infinite power and knowledge, decides to populate this planet with… well, us. And his method of choice? Fashioning the first woman from a spare rib. A rib! Seriously? Even with the limited technology of the Bronze Age, that sounds like a rather inefficient and frankly, ridiculous, process."

A few nervous titters broke the silence. Humphrey pressed on, his voice gaining momentum.

"Now, I understand the appeal of these myths. They offer comfort, a sense of purpose, a feeling of belonging to something larger than ourselves. But sentimentality has no place in science. We deal in facts, in evidence, in repeatable results. And the fact is, there is absolutely no empirical evidence to support the notion that life, let alone a complex organism like a human being, can be created from a single bone, or any other single organic component for that matter."

He launched into a rapid-fire explanation of cellular biology, genetics, and the sheer impossibility of spontaneous generation. He spoke of the intricate dance of DNA, RNA, and proteins, the millions of years of evolution that had shaped the human form. He painted a picture of such dizzying complexity that the rib story seemed even more absurd by comparison.

"The human body," he declared, pacing the stage, "is not some Lego set that can be assembled from spare parts according to a divine instruction manual. It is a marvel of biological engineering, a testament to the power of natural selection and the relentless march of evolution."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in. The silence in the auditorium was now absolute, broken only by the hum of the ventilation system.

"So, what's my point?" he asked, his voice softening slightly. "My point is that we, as scientists, as rational thinkers, must reject these outdated and frankly, dangerous, myths. We must embrace the power of reason, the pursuit of knowledge, and the unwavering commitment to empirical evidence."

He leaned forward, his gaze sweeping across the audience. "We cannot afford to be shackled by superstition or constrained by dogma. We must be bold, innovative, and unafraid to challenge the status quo, even if it means dismantling cherished beliefs."

He paused again, a flicker of something akin to sadness crossing his face. "Because if we don't, who will? If we allow ourselves to be blinded by faith, we risk losing our way, abandoning our quest for truth, and condemning ourselves to an eternity of ignorance."

He straightened up, his voice regaining its steely edge. "Therefore, I propose a conjecture. The Humphrey Conjecture: Life cannot be created ex nihilo, from nothing, or from a single component divorced from the complex biological processes that give rise to it. The Adam and Eve story is, quite simply, biologically impossible."

He delivered the final sentence with the force of a hammer blow. The audience remained silent for a moment, stunned by the audacity of his pronouncement. Then, a single pair of hands began to clap. Slowly, hesitantly, others joined in, until the auditorium was filled with a thunderous applause.

Humphrey allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. He had done his job. He had provoked, challenged, and, hopefully, inspired a few minds along the way. As he bowed to the cheering crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just thrown down a gauntlet, a challenge to the very fabric of reality. A challenge that, unbeknownst to him, was about to be answered in the most unexpected and unsettling way imaginable. He might think that this is his greatest lecture, but it's more of a prelude of what's to come. A new challenge would be presented, and he would be the one to solve it. He just didn't know how exactly he would do it. He didn't even know what the challenge would be. He'd soon find out, though.