80: Chapter 80 Photographer Theory

Inside the secret base, Black Panther laughed until he leaned back against the sofa, tears almost welling up in the corners of his eyes.

"Officer Thompson, if you were that photographer from 'Animal World', would you hold a gun to a lion's head to force it to hunt prey just so you could film it?"

Thompson was stunned.

Black Panther didn't wait for his answer and muttered to himself, "You wouldn't. At most, you would throw a few pieces of bloody meat where the camera couldn't see, to lure the lion over."

"But you wouldn't use a gun to force the lion to create a scene for you, because the footage captured that way would lack suspense. The audience wouldn't enjoy it; what they want to see isn't a dead elk, but the hunt itself."

Thompson's mouth hung open, his whole body trembling.

Black Panther's laughter gradually faded. "See? You understand now."

He spread his hands. "It's a very simple principle. But those high-ranking officials in the United States and even across the world will never figure it out, because they value human civilization too highly."

"They think that because humans have moon rockets, nuclear bombs, soccer, and pyramids, we must count as a major player in the universe, and we should be able to reason with them."

"They've all been deceived by the facade Chen Mu has put up, mistakenly believing that even though humans are weak, we still have some value at the negotiating table. But in reality..."

He suddenly clenched his fist. The crushed soda can in his hand emitted a sharp sound of twisting metal, and residual cola sprayed out from the cracks, splashing onto his black gloves.

"In Chen Mu's eyes, humans are just a bunch of lower animals. And he is the photographer filming the animals."

It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck through Thompson's mind, instantly illuminating all the blurry outlines.

He shook his head repeatedly. "Impossible. Humans have tens of thousands of years of civilization, we have wisdom, we have..."

"What is this civilization you speak of? Is it the Great Wall of the East, or the pyramids of Egypt? Is it nuclear bombs, cars, or soccer, the stock market, Hollywood, and constitutional amendments?"

Black Panther's voice grew colder with every sentence. "Wake up, Officer Thompson. Your so-called magnificent structures are just termite mounds in their eyes."

"The nuclear bombs and technology you are so proud of are, in their eyes, not even as sturdy as a child's building blocks. The democracy and freedom you hold so dear are, to them, like a group of ants arguing over which worker ant should carry a tiny breadcrumb."

Thompson sat down on the floor with a thud, as if all his strength had been drained away by those words.

He asked defiantly, "Then tell me, what does our human civilization have that is worth him observing?"

Black Panther stood up. "Anthropologist Margaret Mead once said that the first sign of civilization is not the skyscrapers you mentioned today, not the Great Wall, not the pyramids, and not any stone carved with text."

"It is a broken thigh bone that has healed."

Thompson frowned.

Black Panther continued, "In the primitive jungle, if any animal breaks its thigh bone, it will undoubtedly die."

"It cannot hide from predators, cannot walk to the river to drink water, cannot find food for itself, and can only lie on the ground, waiting for some beast that smells the blood to come and tear it apart."

"But guess why a femur from fifteen thousand years ago would have healed?"

Thompson remained silent.

Black Panther said, "It's because someone stayed with the injured person. Someone helped him set the bone, someone tore off their own animal skin to bandage his wounds, someone carried him for a very, very long way to find a place that could shelter him from the wind and rain. Someone brought him food and water for the next few months until he could stand up on his own again."

"Before that femur, humans were no different from other animals in the jungle—the weak are prey to the strong, and only the fittest survive."

"But on the day that femur healed, humans did something for the first time that the laws of nature did not allow. One animal risked its life to help another injured animal."

"Mead said that this unity is the first sign of civilization."

Black Panther slowly walked up to Thompson and looked down at him from above. His eyes appeared exceptionally deep in the dim blue data glow. "Understand now, Officer Thompson? This is what Chen Mu wants to see."

He pointed at Thompson. "For example, the moment you stood up to powerful forces and, under pressure from many sides, sent Prosecutor Harvey's son to prison."

"Doesn't it feel like an elk's desperate strike, kicking out a lion's eye?"

"You mean that in Chen Mu's eyes, I am that elk?" Thompson asked hoarsely.

Black Panther nodded. "Not just you, but me too. I once spent a long time by the side of that 'Animal World' photographer. I saw with my own eyes how, for the sake of a moment where an elk kicked a lion in the face, he tracked that elk for three whole months, recording its activity range, drinking habits, and the paths it frequently took."

"And all of Chen Mu's current actions are exactly the same as that photographer's. Back then, the elk couldn't sense the photographer watching from the side at all, just as we cannot sense that Chen Mu is observing us right now."

Thompson jumped up with a 'whoosh', looking around nervously. "You mean Chen Mu is watching us?"

Black Panther pressed his hands down. "Relax, Officer Thompson. A photographer would not kill the elk he is observing."

A mysterious smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. "In fact, at certain times, he might even give you some benefits."

Thompson calmed down, stared at Black Panther, and asked, "You almost had me fooled. What evidence do you have for what you're saying?"

Black Panther looked at him, first tapping his own chest lightly, then turning toward Thompson, and stopping in mid-air. "The evidence is that you and I, we are both still alive."

He lowered his hand, bent down to pick up the crushed can of cola from the floor, and placed it on the edge of the coffee table, side by side with the unopened can of Thompson's.

"After Chen Mu was elected Blue Star Planet Chief, I stayed in my hotel room for three whole days, not going anywhere. I even threw my phone into the bathtub."

"To tell you the truth, I went through every worst-case scenario I could think of in my head."

"For example, making me watch with my own eyes as Wakanda turned to ashes, letting those children screaming on their mothers' backs, and those old women bending over to transplant rice seedlings in the fields, turn into charcoal amidst their terrified screams."

"Or, for example, capturing me, taking me back to my own country, and handing me over to be judged by the citizens I 'betrayed'."

"They would rush up to tear at my flesh, drag me across the gravel road, and trample me to death in the thousands. Those who once swore allegiance to me would scramble to spit at me under the broadcast of his loudspeakers."

"Just like those people who once printed you on T-shirts and held them over their heads, only to throw eggs at you at the courthouse entrance."

"Or, for example, using some alien technology to keep me in a transparent container forever, with my consciousness extracted and soaked in nutrient solution, enduring the most extreme pain the human brain can imagine, year after year."

"At that time, I had already decided that if they came, I would use the knife hidden under the sofa cushion to slit my own throat first."

He crushed the cola can on the table and threw it into the trash can in the corner. "However, nothing happened. No space fleet arrived over Wakanda, no penguin soldiers broke down the door, and no one came to cause me any trouble."

"The only letter I received in those three days was an email from an intern secretary at the United Nations, asking if I needed a return flight arranged."

"At that moment, I realized: he needs us."

Thompson looked up in disbelief. "Why?"