Read Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor Online
Authors: Jonathan P. Brazee
Darwin's Quest: The Search for the Ultimate Survivor (3 page)
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.
If anything the history of the show taught new contestants was that alliances were vital to survival. We were not allowed to kill anyone. No pushing off ledges, no hitting with rocks. But without being in an alliance, there were no helpful hands to pull you back onto the cliff, no one to form a defense when some beast attacked, no one to help cross a raging river. So there was always a scramble to insinuate oneself into a group as fast as possible. And by being killed so early, I was behind the powerball on this. Groups had already been formed.
But history always had another lesson—alliances were constantly shifting and changing as cast members saw better ways to get ahead and get to the Final Two. A lot of money was at stake here. Not just for the prize money. But winners tended to make more than that on endorsements and appearance fees. Jacob Brooke, the Season 4 winner, had parlayed his win into a lucrative holo career as an action star. With that much at stake, well, alliances were only as good for as long as people felt they were to their advantage.
It was rather peaceful sitting there, talking and listening. The temperature was a pleasant 30 degrees or so. It usually was kept comfortable in Haven, and despite the fact that the omni-present cams were continually broadcasting, it was supposed to be a place for us to relax and unwind. While the ground looked like bare dirt, it was actually a pretty comfortable synthetic material, so lying on it was like lying on a futon.
“So Julie, you never told us why people call you that, if your name is really Siobhán.” Josh’s voice drifted over from where they were sitting.
“Do you know how many baby girls were named after her?” she asked with an exaggerated frown. “Every other little girl for a couple of years was named Siobhán, it seemed like. I was tired of being one of a million. I wanted to be unique, so I demanded that everyone call me Julie, which is the English version of the name. My mother resisted, but eventually, after all the neighbor kids kept coming around and asking if ‘Julie’ could come out to play, even she came around. And I’ve been Julie ever since.”
I was only listening with half an ear, but I found it kind of strange that a singer could hold that much sway over people. I’ve heard her music, of course, on old holo broadcasts or on old discs, and sure, she had a good voice. But to get that much adoration? To name your kids after her? It was a little creepy to me.
On the other hand, I was trying hard not to stare at Joshua. We didn’t play American football on Monsanto, but we followed it pretty closely. We liked it better than football, speedball or basketball, the three big team sports on Earth. I wasn’t about to name my first born Joshua, but still, I was embarrassed at the little bit of hero-worship I felt.
Hamlin seemed to feel the focus shift a bit from his group because he interjected “Hey Tobie. I don’t know if anyone’s naming kids after you, but you’re a better singer than Siobhán Reilly. How about giving us a show?”
October smiled and acted reluctant, but I thought that was just an act for the cams. Being at all famous could help contestants with the viewers, but not if they seemed to be too full of themselves.
“Oh, no one wants to hear me now,” she said, her dark eyes reflecting the fire with sparks of eagerness.
“What else have we got to do around here?” he responded.
She “let” herself to be talked into it. As we lay surrounded by the stone walls, the fire dying down, her hauntingly beautiful voice serenaded us in a language I didn’t recognize. The cynic in me knew she was performing for the billions, that this could mean more downloads for her; the other side of me just relaxed, being lulled by her incredible voice.
Hamlin had taken off his shirt, obviously preening for the cams, but that didn’t bother me. If you’ve got it, flaunt it, I guess. As darkness closed in, I could see the faint rose glow of his transponder showing through the skin of his belly. I lifted up my shirt a bit to check mine. The glow gave me a feeling of safety. Talking got more sporadic as people drifted off to sleep. My last coherent thoughts were about which alliance I should join, before I drifted off myself.
Chapter 4
The morning sun peeked into my eyes, over the stone walls they’d erected to ring the camp, bright enough to wake me. I sat up and stretched, my breath foul--Morpehus’ parting gift from a night of slumber. I stretched and looked around. Most of my castmates were scattered around and still asleep. Only Mike and Borlinga, my two fellow Outerworlders, were up, standing at the firepit, staring at the embers from last night’s fire and quietly talking.
I got up and made my way to the far end of our camp and pushed the camouflaged release which opened the hidden door to the toilet. Supposedly, this was the only place on the reservation not covered by cams. I guess the viewers liked to see us die, but not take a dump. I thought it somewhat ironic, but I was relieved as well. I didn’t particularly want everyone back home to see me grunting at my morning ablutions. Finished, I joined Mike and Borlinga.
“Corter, welcome, to our wakening morning,” Borlinga greeted me. “Slept you well?”
“Uh, sure, I guess.”
“Good for you that is. Mike here, he is not well sleeping.”
Mike looked exhausted as he nodded at her words. He was having problems sleeping and had been up for several hours already. He had passed the physical and had been in training for some time, but the extra gravity here was still wearing on him. A little less than Earth gravity, it was still more than what he was used to on Mars. With just the three of us chatting, it didn’t take long to realize that Mike was a very, very bright man. He worked as some sort of bio technician for one of the big globals, but I had a feeling he was understating his job.
Borlinga was an intriguing character as well. With her body almost completely wrapped up the deep blue leggings, top, and head covering, only her face and hands were visible. But she managed to exude a feeling of calm and confidence. I wondered how that would resonate with the viewers. Earthers tended to the conservative, so they could be turned off by her outlandishness. I was a little curious about her as Shaktians were not that well-known in other worlds.
“Is it true that all of you have a unique name?” I asked.
“Yes, each Shaktian has a name registered only to himself,” Mike said.
I had wanted Borlinga to answer, but I let it go. “But that sounds confusing to me. I mean, do you just invent names?”
Mike answered again for her. “Pretty much so. Each baby gets a computer generated name, so the names have no meaning except as a designator for that person.”
Borlinga smiled at his comment, and I caught a slight glimpse of something a little condescending in that smile. Perhaps Mike, as bright as he was, might not quite be as knowledgeable as he thought.
“So is that what happened with you?” I asked her.
“Essentially, in some ways I can say yes to this. After six months alive, I am taken to the Citizens’ Hall, my parents to name me. They enter ‘Bor,’ which is my tribal name. They enter ‘lin’ as my mother. Then they enter ‘pu’ for my father, but no, not allowed. Already is a ‘Borlinpu.’ So they ask database, and that gives eight choices for next name part. My parents chose ‘ga.’ I am ‘Borlinga.’”
“And if there wasn’t anything available to add to ‘Borlin?’”
“Then to four syllables they go. On Shakti now, most citizens new get five syllables.”
I wondered if having a three-part name made her older than she looked.
“And your kids? You said you have six? What about them?” asked Mike.
“Borlingapa and Borlingaru are oldest of mine. Mupanratop, Muparafon, and Toratomet are next. Then baby mine is Borpamalit.”
“That’s a lot of naming to call for dinner.”
She laughed at my comment. “We use namenicks, of course I think. Pa and Ru and Top and so on and so on et cetera.”
I was used to her stilted syntax by now, but the “so on and so on et cetera” struck my funnybone. I wasn’t sure if I had ever heard
a Skaktian speak before, but I guessed the unique sentence structure was normal for them.
As we talked, we stared at the small eddies of smoke wisping up from the embers. I wondered if this was some primordial hardwiring, to stare at fires. It really wasn’t that interesting, but our attention was focused on it.
The sun crept higher, warming our little amphitheater, and others began to stir. I think all of us were somewhat on edge, wondering what our first official challenge would be. There was a sense of anticipation as people began to get up and join the rest of us.
Hamlin sat up and shook his head as if to knock out the cobwebs. He slowly stretched, and I glanced over to see Borlinga take in the play of muscles against each other. I tried to hide my smile. It seemed that even the calm, collected Borlinga could appreciate a little bit of man-candy.
He started to wander over to the toilet, but stopped when he saw the line which had already formed to use it. With all the money spent on the reservation, re-
Instead of joining the queue, he changed direction and came over to join us. He dutifully took a spot on the other side of Mike and joined us in watching the embers.
“Hey Corter,” he said after a few moments, “I didn’t really get to congratulate you last night. I have to admit, Adrienne was a little easier on the eyes than you, but you deserved it.”
He reached over to offer me his hand. I took it, but was surprised that while his grip was firm, he wasn’t trying to prove his alpha maleness by crushing my hand. I appreciated that. Maybe I was letting his physique pigeon-hole him in my opinion of who he was.
“Yea, she was kinda cute. Nice girl, too. But thanks. I’m glad I got returned, too.”
A couple others drifted over to us as we waited. There wasn’t much we could do until we received the challenge. But even though we were all waiting, I think we all jumped some 30 or 40 minutes later when the
Darwin’s Quest
theme music blared out through the camp and the flashing lights embedded in the rock face of the wall showed us where we would be getting all our communications from the show staff.
We all dutifully shouted “Revelations!’ more or less in unison.
Hamlin and Yash immediately went to where a drawer had slid out of the rock face under the flashing lights. Yash reached in and pulled out a piece of paper.
“From prehistory to the present, food is the vital ingredient to survive,” he read. “Without food, every other challenge you face pales in comparison. Your first official challenge is to find food. In the River Beagle, 90 feet below you, is a pool. In that pool are trout. Your challenge is to find that pool and catch the trout.”
Several of us immediately checked for our transponders before realizing what we were doing and looking up sheepishly
.
At least, I did.
Darwin’s Quest’s
only real fatality came during Season 4 when Alicia Burns fell into that season’s River Beagle and was quickly carried downstream. Somehow, her body got trapped beneath a hollow in a rock, and it took the field staff almost a day to find her. By that time, it was too late to resurrect her. Since then, all cast members had a transponder imbedded in the soft flesh of our bellies. The faint rose glow that could be seen through the skin was a security blanket for us.
I think most of us were surprised that our first challenge would be the river. There were always river challenges of course, but they tended to be among the more difficult ones, the ones which took longer to complete. Food was always one of the first ones, though. I had eaten, at least, back in Production City, but the others had gone for a day now without food, so they were pretty hungry. But something a little easier for our first challenge would have been welcomed.
We all looked around at each other, waiting for someone to take charge. I could see Lindadawn start to step forward again, but evidently she thought better of it and did nothing. Hamlin cleared his throat.
“Well folks, we haven’t chosen a leader yet. I propose we wait to do that until after this challenge. Let’s see how we all interact on this, then we can chose a leader. OK? Does that sound good?” There were nods from most of us. “OK, then, let’s get going on this.”
He started over to the opening in the rocks which led to the bridge. The rest of us, with a few hesitations and false starts, followed. For someone who asked us to wait until after the challenge to choose a leader, Hamlin was acting pretty much like one. I wondered if that was a conscious decision on his part, a part of his game strategy, or was that really his personality. I was leaning more to the first scenario.
We all spread out along the cliff wall, looking down at the rushing water.
“Come on, folks, it only looks impossible,” Alfhid, the tall blonde woman, said without conviction.
“Yes, tell that to the Season 19 Seven,” Yash responded, referring to the seven cast members who had been killed during one particularly difficult challenge, leaving only three cast members left alive.
“And look what that did to ratings,” put in Mike, “what with the next several shows just being returnee votes. No, our dear producers don’t want another die-off like that. One, possibly two deaths would max it for them.”
We all nodded knowingly—or maybe that was hopefully. We knew the challenge could be completed. The field staff who developed the challenge had already tested it. But while we knew the challenge was doable, looking down the cliff did not give us a warm and fuzzy. All of us had to complete the challenge, and I wondered how some of us, like Julie, for example, were going to manage.
While we were looking down at the water, Lindadawn and Paul started pulling up some vines growing along the top of the cliff face. The rest of us joined in. The vines were tough, and we had no knives, but by smashing the ends with loose rocks, we could free them. Getting the vines, we had a concrete task on which we could focus. Hamlin quickly took charge, and at his direction, we laid the vines out, tying them together until we had a rope long enough to reach the bottom. He started to tie one end of the rope to the end of the bridge when Mike interrupted.
“We need to go to the other side,” he told Hamlin.
Hamlin looked at him a little condescendingly. “We’re still in Haven here, so nothing’s going to bother us while we climb. Over there,” he pointed to the other side of the bridge, “who knows what surprises they have for us?” A couple of our castmates nodded, while he waited for Mike’s response to that.
“Well, we don’t have much water on Mars. Certainly no free-standing water. But it seems to me that we are on an island. Haven is an island. So if we go down on this side, how are we going to cross the river when the island ends?”
I felt like an idiot for not realizing that myself. I looked at Hamlin to see how he would take it. He looked back at Mike for a moment, and then, to my surprise, burst out laughing and clapped Mike hard on the shoulder.
“Well, color me a donderhead.” He laughed, quoting the tag line of Max on
Max and the Belles,
the long-running, but insanely mind-numbing (to me) holo. At least it was on the same network as
Darwin’s Quest
, so the producers wouldn’t get upset. “And that is why I suggested we choose a leader
after
our challenge!”
Hamlin either was a great actor, or he really did think it was funny. He was still laughing as he carried one end of the rope across the bridge. He didn’t even look around to see if there was anything lying in wait on the other side. He merely tied off the end so it couldn’t fall, then motioned Yash to come over carrying the middle part of the rope with him. The rest of us followed one-by-one until we were all over on the other side. I looked nervously to where I had been killed, just a few meters off the end of the bridge. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I could see a faint dark red stain on the ground where the T-Rex had finished me off.