Mathematicians announced today that, according to respectable numbers wearing ties, life shouldn’t exist. Life, rude as ever, continued to exist, chewing noisily and making eye contact.

The new study combines thermodynamics, probability, and that look your high school math teacher gave you before pop quizzes. The conclusion: the odds of amino acids organizing into anything fancier than a grudge are smaller than a decimal’s self-esteem.

Lead author Dr. Hypatia Crunch summarized: “Our model says the universe is a no-pets apartment, and yet there’s a Labrador named Consciousness shedding on the couch.” Peer reviewers attempted to crate-train Reality; Reality ate the crate.

As a science writer who treats methods sections like love letters, I read the supplement. The p-values promptly texted “new phone who dis,” and one confidence interval applied for witness protection.

The team ran ten billion simulations, then rebooted the cosmos twice, then tried turning hope off and on again. Their algorithm, fueled by espresso and a quantum random number generator desk toy, consistently predicted a universe full of rocks occasionally apologizing for being dusty.

Religious leaders, philosophers, and the IT department weighed in. The IT department recommended clearing your cookies, then the planet’s, then the multiverse’s, “just to be tidy.”

Meanwhile, the Department of Existence announced an audit. “Please itemize all miracles since the Big Bang,” it requested, “and be prepared to prove you deserve breakfast.” Receipts older than hydrogen may not be accepted.

In the lab, graduate students stirred prebiotic goo with the detached optimism of interns on the Titanic. The goo formed a committee, passed bylaws, and listed its LinkedIn skills as “resilience” and “being wet.”

Critics argue the model assumes molecules are introverts at a party and will never mingle without a wingman. Historically, they needed lightning, a puddle, and a DIY primordial soup starter kit with next-day shipping.

To ensure fairness, the authors removed any step that looked lucky, fun, or plausible. What remained was a pristine timeline in which nothing happens and everyone feels very correct about it.

As a compromise, the team suggests replacing life with a slideshow of empty beaches and moral victories. Photosynthesis will be rebranded as “solar leasing for leaves” and offered as an optional plugin.

Until then, the paper sits on the arXiv like a polite eviction notice taped to a functioning universe. If probabilities call again, tell them the p-values already phoned a friend—and it was Life.