Every tumor writes its own cosmology. Its cells are galaxies, and mutations are stellar flares marking the branches of a genealogical tree. The key to its history is the rhythm of accumulating genetic typos.
In a real body, resources are finite. After the first wave of expansion comes a lull: space is tight, entropy (genetic disorder) barely increases. But then the tumor, like a maturing universe, spawns new hotspots — and a second explosion of mutations occurs. This pattern reveals hidden stages in the struggle for survival. A surprising fact: it's often the later branches that carry drug-resistance mutations, which can be foreseen by the shape of the tree.
A single large tumor can harbor more genetic variants than the entire human population — a result of rapid evolution.