This strip of red was teeming with life.
The old amoebas were forming pseudopodia in a desperate effort to reach the red strip, and when they did they came to life, as if by magic.
Some force seemed to breathe life into them.
They flocked there, fighting one another for a place in the ray, where the most frantic (there was no other word for it) reproduction was taking place.
In defiance of all the laws which Persikov knew like the back of his hand, they gemmated before his eyes with lightning speed.
They split into two in the ray, and each of the parts became a new, fresh organism in a couple of seconds.
In another second or two these organisms grew to maturity and produced a new generation in their turn.
There was soon no room at all in the red strip or on the plate, and inevitably a bitter struggle broke out.