The Mammoth

Jen breathed in and exhaled halfway, slowly, her finger resting on the shutter-release button. At this distance, at this amount of zoom, even the lens’s vibration reduction would do little to prevent some motion blur. To compensate for her unsteady hand, she set her shutter speed to 1/300. To compensate for the shorter shutter duration, she lowered her f-stop to 5.6 and brought her ISO up to 400. The light meter read dead center. Then she stood still for ten seconds, waiting. She released her breath, lowered the camera, and shook her arms, chuckling. “This is why we use tripods and shutter-release cables,” she said.

“Take your time,” Charles replied. “Something as important as this is worth the patience.”

“Mhm.” She brought the camera back up to her eye and stared through the viewfinder. Gently, she pressed down on the shutter-release button, just enough to allow the autofocus to find its mark. When she was satisfied, she pressed the button all the way and heard the fluttering clicks of the shutter opening and closing six or seven times. She looked down at the screen and examined her work. She smirked. Each image was crisp and clear, neither under- nor overexposed. The color saturation was as true as her eye could see. The composition was about what she was going for. About two-thirds of the image was taken up by the subject took up. The background was blurred enough to be recognizable without being so sharp that it distracted or disoriented viewers. Need portraits? Lower that f-stop. She could imagine how happy it would make her professor that she could still hear him in her head after all these years. He was also fond of Don’t be afraid of a higher ISO. If the choice is a flash or a little bit of clarity, ditch the flash, as well as Look through the whole viewfinder. You might have the most beautiful sunset ever photographed but it’s worthless if you missed the dog crapping in the corner. Jen liked that one. His most profound insight was much simpler. Take tons of pictures. All photographers understood that the ratio of good photos to bad weighed far more on the bad end. Even if it was a fifty-fifty crapshoot, the odds of a producing a higher quantity of good pictures increased the more pictures you took. So that’s what Jen did, and, so far, she was perfectly satisfied with what she produced. She would edit them, of course, but, as her professor was wont to say, Good pictures take no time to edit. She turned the screen so Charles could see.

“Well.” His arms rested on his chest, one of his hands pressed against his chin. He tried to hide it, but his subtle swaying made his happiness apparent. “I’d congratulate you on your Pulitzer, Ms. Bennet, if only I could.”

“Uh-huh.” Jen turned the screen so she could see it again. If fear had made him cautious, she would’ve understood. Even if he was skeptical of how her photos would be received, that would’ve made sense, too. But no, the whole point of this affair felt like a troll on society, an attempt to stir the conspiracy nuts into a frenzy, to ruffle the feathers of governments, to give a big middle finger to the scientific community. “It’s just such a shame,” she sighed.

Charles stepped forward and stood beside her. From the small, camouflaged observation deck, they could see only a small portion of the gigantic facility. The structure was massive. It took up the same area as a small town and the ceiling was probably two hundred feet high. Never mind the size, the technology required to emulate the wintery environment would have cost more money than Jen could fathom. If she was a pessimist, she might ask why Charles hadn’t invested that money into something more philanthropic. He rested his gloved hands on the wooden rail and leaned. “I don’t mean to patronize, but it would make me feel better if we just said everything aloud again. I need to be sure you understand the conditions.” He turned to look at her. “Years of my life are on the line, past and future.”

Jen turned her camera off and rested it atop her pack. She joined Charles at the rail, leaning. “Leak the photos,” she said, “but don’t take credit. I’m allowed to be cheeky, but forbidden from directly confirming I took them.”

“And if anybody asks about me or why you came to Canada?”

“You’re an eclectic, reclusive billionaire. Nobody knows why you do the things you do. You contacted me to take pictures of your new cabin. I did, and I have the proof.”

“Good.” Pleased, Charles returned his gaze to the tundra before them. “Your discretion is appreciated, Ms. Bennet, truly.”

“You’re paying me more than enough to warrant it.”

“And will continue to do so, should you choose to keep up the ruse.”

“I will,” she assured him. A moment of silence passed. It was surprisingly quiet in here. The faint humming of fans barely disturbed the serenity of the near-perfect recreation of nature. She couldn’t help it; she needed to know. “You’ve gone through so much trouble and invested so much of your life into this. Why the tease, Charles? Why not just be out with it? I don’t understand the point.”

The shadow of a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He didn’t turn to her, only continued staring ahead. “I’ve thought long and hard about that,” he replied. “There is a point, hard as it is to believe. Although,” he paused, trying to find right words. He pointed ahead. “Look at her.” It was all Jen had been doing; how could she not? Even at five hundred yards away, the mammoth’s size was intimidating, yet it moved with a quiet grace. She was efficient, using her tusks to brush aside snow, and then expending the bare minimum energy required to rip the grass from the ground. And her eyes – crystal clear, expressive, discriminating. Jen had made sure that, if nothing else, the mammoth’s eyes were in focus in the pictures. Out-of-focus eyes make us uncomfortable, her professor had preached. If you have to prioritize anything, prioritize the eyes.

Charles continued. “She is a life,” he said. “Brilliant and beautiful. If I were to make some grandiose gesture, what do you think people would focus on? Not her, not her individuality, not in our polarized times.” He shook his head. “No, the discussion would almost certainly be about the ethics of creating her. They would obsess over the ‘ifs’ and the ‘hows’ and all the other drama that goes along with philosophy, while all the while she continues to exist, her own being, indifferent to all of it.”

“Then why do anything at all?”

He gave her a sideways glance and nodded toward the trail they’d walked to get to the observation deck. “Come. We’ve got what we needed from here. Let’s walk and continue our discussion.”

“All right.” While the gear he’d provided her had done a nice job of keeping the cold out, Jen’s accumulated body heat had evaporated away from being still too long. She wouldn’t complain about moving.

Charles walked to the end of the platform and waited for Jen to gather her camera. “Let me just change lenses,” she said. “I’ll try to get some different angles while we walk, but the telephoto will be too unwieldy.”

“No rush, darling.”

She took the telephoto off, stowed it in its case, and strapped it onto the side of her pack. Then, she took out her 75-700 mm variable lens and screwed it to the front of the camera. She made sure the lens and the strap were secure, wrapped the strap around her wrist, pulled on her pack, and started toward Charles. She winked. “All righty. I’m all ears.”

“Right this way.” He waved a hand and guided her to the path. They walked about a hundred feet in silence while Jen absorbed her surroundings. To her right was a vast wilderness, infinite to the eye, though she knew better. To her left, a light gray wall, reinforced concrete, built for stability against forces on both sides. The whole thing felt backwards; she had to remind herself that she was inside looking out, not the other way around. She looked out at the mammoth again. “Does she know we’re here?”

“Almost certainly,” he replied. “She doesn’t care. We’re just a harmless curiosity, frankly.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she replied. She brought her camera up, zoomed in, and snapped a few more photos. They were fine, though she knew she’d already taken the winners. Still, the novelty of the image of a prehistoric animal on her memory card would be slow to fade. “I don’t want to harp on it, Charles, but this really is something. You have to be proud.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t get old, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “But if I’m being honest, I’m much more concerned about this little operation than I was about anything we did while bringing her to life. It sounds silly, I know, but your pictures are more important to her existence than I am, at least if you ask me.”

Jen snorted. “Okay.”

“No, really. I’m being quite serious.” She gave him a skeptical look and he laughed. “I mean it.”

“Really? Explain.”

Charles shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “The science is the science,” he replied. “Many things could’ve gone wrong, but most of the things that mattered were within my control. But the world at large? Public perception? I’ve no real pull on that, and I’m keenly aware that the consequences of an ill-conceived reveal could be fatal to Sandy.”

“Sandy?”

“Yes, Sandy,” he said.

“For her hair?”

Charles chuckled. “No, no. I hesitate to say…”

“It’s for a girl, isn’t it?” Jen nudged Charles, who gave her a coy smile, blushing.

“Not exactly, but close enough.” He continued before she could interject. “In any case, caution is needed. And more importantly time.” He nodded toward the mammoth. “If I were to just come out and say, look at this mammoth I made, perhaps the world would welcome her with open arms, but that seems extremely unlikely. Doubtless, the conversation would be about me and my rashness. Some will see it as hubris and playing God; others will see it as a foolhardy rich man seeing how far his money can go, ethical consequences be damned. They’ll miss the point of it all, won’t they?”

“Which is what?”

“The value of a life.” Jen smiled. He’d said it with such genuine affection that she knew it wasn’t a canned public statement. What he felt for his mammoth was real, and he wanted to protect her. “It may sound naïve, but I think many of the problems in our world come from the rate at which things are changing. Before modern technology, it took years, lifetimes, for cultures to shift and become more open-minded. Now it seems like every day we’re asked to accept something new without question. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t disagree that we should be open and accepting; what I mean to say is that those who are resistant to change need time to wrestle with it. Information may be traveling at speeds unheard of, but society is still the same meandering beast it’s always been. Too much change too quickly, and the beast is bound to bite.” He turned to Jen, smirking. “I must sound like such an entitled rich man.”

“To be honest,” she replied, “maybe a little. I think your heart’s in the right place, though.”

“You’re kind,” he said. “If I may be succinct, the point of leaking the photos is to give society time to wrestle with the possibility of the resurrected mammoth. Even if people do associate the pictures with me, it’s still Schrodinger’s Cat. Not only will they have to consider my actions, but they’d have to think about what it would mean for the world if a creature like the mammoth was resurrected. Let them engage in hypotheticals,” he said, “and soon what was extreme will be less extreme, because they’ve been given time to digest. Then, when it's time, we’ll introduce Sandy to the world and the attention will be on her and the life she’s living. Most of society will see her for the treasure she is, not as the object of fruitless debate, but a life worthy of respect and admiration. That’s the power of your photos, Ms. Bennet.” They stopped walking and turned to face Sandy. “Well?” He asked. “Do I sound totally out of my mind?”

Jen tried to hide her smile, but just couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. For a brief moment, Charles looked like he might be offended, but soon he cracked a smile and began laughing, too. They both went on for half a minute before collecting themselves. They took a deep breath, then Jen touched his arm. “It’s a sweet notion, Charles,” she said.

“But…”

“I think you might give society too much credit. Not that I’m not game for trying. I think it’s a worthwhile effort, and I believe you believe in yourself.”

“I believe in her,” he said. Jen turned. The commotion had caught the attention of the mammoth and it was beginning to walk their way. She felt herself freeze. Charles chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said. “Trust me, it’ll be one of the most extraordinary experiences of your life.”

Jen swallowed. “God, Charles, I hope you’re right, I really do.” Sandy continued lumbering over, slowly, curiously. She seemed to be looking at Jen, considering her, not assessing a threat, but just wondering what? The feeling was mutual. Jen gripped her camera but didn’t bring it up. Some things, she thought, are only meant for one person. Sandy lumbered forward, getting closer, and Jen waited, full of anxiety, reverence, giddiness, and humility. She saw it, the life, the love, and she understood exactly what Charles had ben talking about. Let the world see you for you, she thought. I just hope my pictures do you justice.