Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor

by Jonathan P. Brazee

  The go-light faded as the camera array was powered down. My escort walked into the array grid, hand held out.

  “I didn’t have time to introduce myself. I’m Günter Harris, the stage director.”

  I took his hand.

  “That wasn’t bad. Not the most polished Plea I’ve heard, but nice touch. You seemed real.”

  “Thanks. I was pretty nervous.”

  “Of course you were. But you did well.” He motioned a young man over. “This is Mark, one of our interns. He’ll take you to the canteen. I know you probably aren’t too hungry, waiting for the tally, but I would eat well if I were you. If you get voted back, this might be the last good meal you have for awhile.”

  We shook hands again, and I followed Mark down a series of hallways until we came to a large, bright cafeteria. Other people were in line getting their food, so we joined the tail end.

  “Pretty excited, sir?” asked Mark.

  “More anxious, actually.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, good luck. The other interns, well, we agree, you should go back.”

  “Thanks. I wish the vote was up to you and the other interns, then,” I said with a smile.

  I didn’t think I was hungry, but the food looked pretty good. I loaded up on stir-fried veggies, some grilled pork chops, French fries, a sausage, and a huge helping of chocolate ice cream. Mark got a salad, and we found a table to sit and eat. Several people came up to wish me well, but most of them ignored me. I caught the eye of Adrienne on the other side of the canteen, and she nodded at me with a smile.

  We lounged around for awhile, clearly killing time. Finally, Mark escorted me back to the Green Room, made his apologies, and left. Adrienne was already back as well, watching a holo. Darwin’s Quest was blocked, but we could watch anything else.

  With just the two of us, Adrienne seemed more relaxed, more real somehow. We got to talking. She told me about her hometown of Genoa, about her four brothers and growing up a tomboy, of how she had always wanted to be a model and how Darwin’s Quest was going to be her stepping stone to that. I told her about living on Monsanto, how I had won the contest to go to the interviews for the show. I wanted to ask more about her getting killed. But even though we had been given battery after battery of psychological tests as part of our screening to make sure we could handle death, it still was a touchy subject, so I think we both sort of ignored the issue.

  Surprisingly, I was able to forget the show for awhile, forget that votes were being cast that would determine our fates. I was just sitting and chatting with an attractive woman, one whose personality was not quite what she had been portraying when others were there.

  As our conversation died down, I even drifted off into that half-sleep where dreams intersected with reality. I would have thought I was too keyed up for that. But when Günter came back in the Green Room, I immediately felt the rush of adrenaline take over my body.

  “Well folks, this is it. Are you ready?”

  I looked at Adrienne and caught her eye. We both looked back at Günter and nodded.

  “OK, then, let’s go!” We rose up in unison and followed him out. “Now, as you know, your reactions will be recorded. We won’t show them until after the returnee is back at Haven. The first the audience will know which one of you got the most votes is when you walk back into camp. But after, we’ll show what happened when you both found out. But you’ve seen the show before. You know the drill, right?”

  As we walked down the hall, I could feel Adrienne almost inflate, to pull herself up to the same Adrienne I had met before. We moved slowly apart as we walked. Entering the studio, we were brought to the main array, the one from where Mr. Silver always addressed the audience. The large Darwin’s Quest: the Search for the Ultimate Survivor logo filled the background, the same image I had seen so many times on the holo. Günter brought us to our marks.

  “Mr. Silver will be here in a moment. Good luck to both of you.” He shook our hands in turn and walked to the edge of the grid near one of the cameras.

  I felt awkward, just standing there. Through the bright lights in our eyes, I could see the bustle of people doing whatever they do to put on a show. I felt a hand slip into mine. I guess Adrienne was not quite able to put up the same front now that is was crunch time. I gave her hand a squeeze.

  Mr. Silver walked onto the array and came up to us.

  “Well, here we are,” he said, his trademark smile beaming at us. “This isn’t live, so relax. You’ll know the results soon enough.” He glanced down at our still-clasped hands. “That’s a good touch.”

  He turned to the hovering Günter and went into a quiet discussion, forgetting about the two of us for a moment. I could feel Adrienne trembling. It was hard to imagine it given her attitude earlier, but maybe she was more nervous than I was.

  Günter nodded to something Mr. Silver said and hurried off the grid. Mr. Silver turned a bit to face the fore-camera, motioning us to edge a little closer to him.

  A disembodied voice counted down, “Three…two…one…go!”

  “Here we are, our first Repechage!” Mr. Silver’s voice had suddenly taken on a fuller timbre. “And which one of our contestants did you, our viewers rescue? The beautiful Adrienne Liberi, cut down almost before we started, or the stalwart Corter Laurence, killed while letting his teammates survive? Well, no more suspense. May I have the envelope please?” He motioned off the grid.

  A young, smartly dressed woman walked onto the grid and handed Mr. Silver the envelope.

  “Thank you Jessica,” he said as she did a half curtsey sort of motion and hurried off the grid. Mr. Silver held the envelope up so all the cameras could capture it. “Here is your answer.” He slowly brought the envelope down, made a theatrical pause, then started to open it. His finger started along the opening, then stuck for a second. He pushed it harder, and the envelope tore almost in half, the paper inside falling to the floor.

  “Shit! Cut, cut!” He threw the tattered envelope on the floor. “Come on, people! We’re broadcasting from halfway across the galaxy, and we can’t master a simple paper envelope?”

  Günter and several other people rushed onto the grid to stare dumbly at the envelope on the ground. I tried to see the name on the paper, but it had fallen face down.

  “Get it right now, or some of you are going to going back on the next ship home. I mean it,” Mr. Silver shouted. “Now!” he shouted when no one rushed into action.

  As the staff ran off, one taking the ruined envelope and the results, he looked to us, suddenly calm, as if a switch had been turned. “I’m sorry about that. You’d think this would be easy, but nothing ever is. Thank goodness we aren’t live now.”

  We stood there, not speaking for several minutes, not sure what to do. Someone brought Mr. Silver a glass of something to drink, but no one though to offer us anything. Finally, the same girl, Jessica, hurried out with another envelope and handed it to him. He practiced opening it a few times.

  “Now why couldn’t we get this right the first time? Idiots!” he said, to no one in particular. He looked back up. “OK folks, let’s do it again.” He looked over at us. “Hands.” I looked at him confused for a moment. “Hands! Hold hands again.”

  The disembodied voice counted down again, “Three…two…one…go!”

  “Well folks, here we are, our first Repechage!” Mr. Silver’s voice had returned to his performance mode. “Which one of our contestants did you, our viewers rescue? The beautiful Adrienne Liberi, cut down almost before we even started, or the stalwart Corter Laurence, killed while selflessly letting his teammates survive? Well, no more suspense. May I have the envelope please?” He motioned again off the grid.

  Jessica came back on with the new envelope and handed it to him.

  “Thank you Jessica,” he said. This time she merely ran off the grid. Mr. Silver held the envelope up again. “Here is your answer.”

  He ran his finger under the flap as if he was opening it, then reached in an
d took out the piece of paper. He made a show of reading it, then grunted, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  My heart was pounding. What did that mean? Was his surprise good or bad for me? I needed to know now. I just needed it over with, one way or the other. Adrienne squeezed my hand with more power than I would have thought she possessed.

  “And the first rescue, the first person to die and be thrust back into the game is …Corter Laurence!”

  I felt a rush of relief. I couldn’t believe I was going back. I was prepared to hang around Production City until the final show, so I could make nice and congratulate the final winner, and here I was, rescued. The first one out of Repechage. I turned to Adrienne. She had a smile, but I could see it was forced. We hugged, and she whispered her congratulations to me before Mr. Silver almost pushed her aside to shake my hand.

  “Welcome back to the game. Our viewers voted you back. Now, you have to validate their trust in you.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I accepted his comments in a daze.

  He turned back toward the cameras, still holding my hand. “You have your wish. Corter Laurence is back in the game, and if I know him correctly, he will remain a player of influence. Now let’s say goodbye to the player you didn’t vote back. Adrienne Liberi.”

  I stepped back and let him talk to Adrienne. Quite frankly, I really didn’t hear what he was saying to her. My mind was in too much overdrive. I only knew when he stopped, and the cameras went off. Mr. Silver came back up to me and shook my hand once more.

  “You see, Corter? I told you. The viewers like chivalry, they like the common man. I knew they would vote you back.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I accepted his comments in a daze.

  “But don’t rest on your laurels. There’s plenty of game left, and the other players are a step ahead of you now in bonding and forming alliances. Well, I don’t need to tell you that, you’ve watched before. You know how it goes.” A tall, severe-looking woman was gesturing at Mr. Silver, pointing at her watch. “Ah, I see our coordinator is on the warpath. Time’s a wasting, and you’ve got to get back for your reappearance. That’s live, you know.”

  He shook my hand one last time before moving off with a staffer, heads together in discussion. Günter came up and introduced me to yet another intern.

  “This is Toji. He will take you back to the return tunnel. Do me a favor and don’t dawdle. Gloria is already on my ass for going over time here, and our location director needs you live in less than 15 minutes for the cast reveal.” His hand was in the small of my back, actually pushing me slightly as Toji took my arm.

  We hurried off the grid, past people doing what they do to get a show produced, and to a door over which someone had placed a hand-written sign proclaiming it “The Resurrection Express.” Toji opened the door and pointed to a small, one-seat car sitting on a rail. He motioned to it, and I dutifully sat down inside and buckled up the safety belt.

  “Mr. Laurence, this car will take you to the clearing in front of the bridge. Nothing will be there to harm you, so don’t concern yourself with that. You’ll see two lights, a red one and a green one, alongside the wall when the car stops. As soon as the green one turns on, push open the door, and start across the bridge. We’ll also have the intercom open, so if you have any questions, ask. But once the door opens, you are on you own again. Any questions?”

  I shook my head. This wasn’t that difficult.

  “OK. Well, good luck.” He pushed a button on the wall, and the little car smoothly took off, moving at a fairly good clip. After five minutes or so, the car slowed and came to a stop. I got out, and yes, right there, were two lights, the red one lit. A bright white door was beside the lights, a huge sign saying “Push Here!” affixed next to an equally huge door release. I stood there just staring at the door. My bladder was pressing me with a sense of urgency, and I was contemplating just letting go on the track when the red light went off and the green one came on. I pushed at the door release, and the door immediately opened. As I walked through, it swung to a close behind me. I glanced back, and the door disappeared from view, looking exactly like the surrounding rock. I wanted to take a closer look, but I knew I had to make my timeline. So, trying to look nonchalant, I walked across the clearing and stepped onto the bridge. I couldn’t help glancing back one more time, remembering the T-Rex who got me last time I was here. I hope the hidden cams didn’t catch my shudder.

  Stepping onto the bridge, I slowly made my way across, trying not to look down to the rushing torrent below. It seemed like a long crossing, but it probably only took a few moments. Finally on the other side, Haven felt good underfoot. It felt safe. I walked up the obvious path, between two rock spires, and down a few steps. Stepping around one last curve in the path, I walked into a large flat opening. Lounging around the opening were fourteen other people, my fellow castmates. A chorus of “ohs” and “ahs” and one “it’s the guy” greeted my appearance as the people stood up and came over to shake my hand. I was happy to see them, but all I could think of was game on.

  Chapter 3

  “So how was it? I mean, did it hurt? It sure looked pretty bad,” Joda asked.

  I had been welcomed back, introductions made which barely registered, and we were now sitting around the fire-ring. Joda was the youngest cast member, a 19-year-old from Canada back on Earth. She was extremely cute in a pixieish way, but reminded me of a puppy, eager for play and affection. I still felt a little queasy over the whole dying experience, but since part of our cast screening was to ensure that no one had previously died and been brought back, I guess the question was natural. The other castmates may not have wanted to ask, but I noticed everyone was now paying closer attention to what I had to say.

  “Well, you saw that thing. When it kicked me, and when it was standing on my chest, yea, that hurt. I could feel my ribs crack.” Several people grimaced at that remark. “But after that, nothing. I didn’t feel anything. The next thing I knew was waking up back at Production City. And now,” I swung my arms in circles as if to demonstrate, “I feel great!”

  “It was pretty gross, though, when it bit you. Then it just stood up and walked off. I only hope I don’t get eaten by anything.” She shuddered, her short blonde hair shaking back and forth.

  “I have to say, better you than me. And I appreciate what you did. I’m not sure I could’ve made it without you.” Julie Rhee was the older woman I had dragged to Haven. She had told us that her real name was actually Siobhán, like the old Irish singer, but she went by Julie.

  I simply nodded at her. I had been back for about an hour, and I didn’t even have all my castmates straight in my mind yet, but it was already evident to me that there were pretty much two clear camps here with some undecideds in the middle. Sitting on and below a long rock bench to my right was the big muscular guy, Hamlin Cone. I could easily see he was big, so the skin-tight shirt seemed overkill to me. None of us were supposed to be augmented in anyway, and that would have been caught at our physical, but his body hardly seemed natural.

  He was holding court with the young Canadian Joda, Yash Singh, a tall black girl named October something or other who was evidently a singer of some note, a small girl named Ratt, Paul Amirault, and Bernie Sahadi. Paul and Bernie were merely names to me so far. I couldn’t get a feel of either one. Paul was a tall, serious looking man, and Bernie was the older, slightly portly guy who had been ready to cross the bridge when Hamlin went instead, but that all seemed forgiven as Hamlin had by then seemingly sucked him into his vortex.

  Yash was a Sikh, the first one I had ever seen in person (we didn’t get too many on Monsanto.) He had been one of the first people to cross the bridge before I got killed.

  Ratt’s real name was long and hard to pronounce. She was very short, coming maybe up to my chest, and she couldn’t have weighed more than 35 or 36 kilos.

  To my left was a loosely bunched group with Joshua Maycock, Gabriel Martinez (the skinny kid who had frozen on the bridge), Julie Rhee, and
a Valkryie. The Valkryie was a tall, imposing Teutonic blonde with the equally Teutonic name of Alfhid Gandolson. She was a big woman, but curving in all the right places. I think Adrienne might have had some competition from her as far as attracting the male vote; that is, if the viewers hadn’t voted me back instead.

  Joshua leaned back and stretched. He was the guy I had half-recognized from before. He had been a running back for the San Diego Chargers of the American Football League. He seemed to be the focal point of this group.

  Then there were the others, sitting between the two groups. Including me, there were three Outerworlder cast members. The other two were in this group of undecideds. (I guess I was, too, at least for now.) Borlinga was from Shakti, and like their Indonesian founders, had only one name. Borlinga was maybe a couple of years older than me. She sat quietly, dressed in the long unisex dark blue leggings and top that Shaktians all wore.

  Mike Takechi was not really an Outerworlder. He was a Martian, technically a US citizen. But in a sociological sense, he was no more an Earther than Borlinga or me. He was continually laughing, continually talking, continually getting up and walking to either group, staying for a few moments before coming back to the middle. He was a puppy trying to find a home where he fit in. But whereas Joda was a happy puppy, easy to please, Mike was a desperate and lonely puppy.

  Then there was Lindadawn Foster. “’Lindadawn,’ one word,” she told me. “Not ‘Linda Dawn.’” Lindadawn was the redhead who had taken charge at the bridge. She seemed to be being ignored now, so I didn’t know if not being in a group was her choice or that of the two nascent groups themselves.