The Last One

A few minutes after Exorcist’s big finish, Banker comes in, the last of the contestants to receive a close-up. He has dull brown eyes and hair, and a nose like the host’s but bigger. His black-and-white bandana is a wide headband, and askew. Banker has been cast as filler; his job alone means most viewers will root against him, thinking he doesn’t need the money, doesn’t deserve it, that his presence on the show is proof of the endless greed systemic to his profession. He’s a swindler, a parasite, as scrupleless as a carpetbagger.

Banker can be crammed into this stereotype, but it doesn’t fit him. He grew up the eldest son of middle-class Jews. Many of his childhood peers spent their adolescence in a haze of pot and apathy, but Banker worked hard; he studied; he earned his admission to the Ivy League. The company he’s worked for since finishing his MBA thrived through the recession, was not a cause. They match a large portion of Banker’s charitable giving, of every employee’s charitable giving, and not just for the tax break. Banker is tired of defending his career. He’s here on sabbatical, to challenge himself and learn new skills, to escape the anti-elitist ire of those who say they want their kids to get into the best schools and choose rewarding careers but then resent any adult who is the grown outcome of a child who accomplished precisely that.

Twenty-eight real-time minutes after Banker finishes, Waitress finds her way back to the field. The host is napping under an umbrella. Most of the contestants are chatting, bored and hot in the sun. They acknowledge Waitress’s arrival tepidly. “I was expecting this to be more exciting,” says Asian Chick. “Same here,” agrees Biology. Tracker’s eyes are closed, but he’s listening. About five minutes later, Cheerleader Boy sulks into the field with his pink box. No one greets him. Even Waitress feels like she’s been waiting forever.

The on-site producer rouses the host, who straightens his shirt, runs a hand through his hair, and then stands sternly before the contestants, who are quietly arranged in a line reflecting the order in which they finished. “Night is approaching,” says the host. A true statement, always, but it strikes Tracker as odd; he has a strong sense of time. He can feel that it’s only three o’clock.

The host continues. “It’s time to talk supplies. There are three main concerns in wilderness survival: shelter, water, and food. Each of you has a wrapped package marked with the symbol for one of these.” In succession, viewers will be shown etchings of a minimalist tent—like a capital A, but without the horizontal bar—a water droplet, and a four-tined fork. “The rules of the game are simple: You can keep your package or trade it for someone else’s—without knowing what’s inside.

“Except for our winner,” says the host, indicating Tracker, “who gets the advantage of opening three items before making his choice. And our loser”—he turns to Cheerleader Boy—“who will have no choice at all.” A white-elephant gift exchange, more or less, except that a contestant’s life could depend on which item he or she chooses—or so the producers would have viewers believe. The irony being that while no one will believe this, it will in at least one case become true.

“Another bonus for our winner is this,” says the host, as he lifts a folded silver-and-red thermal blanket from a table—how did that get there? the unsung intern hustles away—and hands it to Tracker. “Yours to keep, no stealing allowed. Let’s begin.”

Tracker opens the following items: Zoo’s iodine pills; Black Doctor’s Nalgene-brand water bottles (two, filled); Engineer’s emergency fishing kit. He takes the Nalgenes, relinquishing his shelter-stamped package to Black Doctor, who accepts the swap good-naturedly. Black Doctor fears pathogens; he wants the iodine, which would net him far more than two quarts of drinking water.

Zoo is next. She chooses Exorcist’s small shelter-marked package. Her flippant tone as she does so makes the choice seem arbitrary, but it’s not. She guesses—correctly—that most of the others will focus on food and water. She knows how to purify water and also guesses—again, correctly—that there will be more opportunities to secure sustenance in the future. No one will steal the stolen, still-wrapped fire starter she now holds.

Air Force is confident he can survive with what each contestant already has: a compass, a knife, a one-quart Nalgene, a personal first-aid kit, a bandana in their assigned color, and a jacket of their own choosing. He keeps his fork-marked dark blue box. Rancher steals Waitress’s item, marked as water. Asian Chick takes Air Force’s food, though her package is about the same size and also marked with a fork—flirtation, plain and simple. Engineer quietly keeps his fishing kit, thinking of what he might build. Black Doctor claims the iodine pills with covetous excitement; no one cares. Exorcist takes Tracker’s two bottles, returning Tracker’s original, unopened package to him. Tracker now has a blanket and a mystery. Biology keeps her food. Banker trades his triangular water item for the filled bottles. Waitress’s turn, and she’s thirsty. She too steals the Nalgenes, handing her pocket-sized shelter package to Banker. Cheerleader Boy is left with the item with which he entered the field. It’s flat and rectangular, and crinkles when he presses it. He wonders if it’s another blanket. If so, it’s thinner than the other.

All this compressed into thirty seconds. Not fair, think the viewers who bother to think. The contestants who finished earlier actually had a disadvantage, and the second-to-last-place finisher was assured her pick of items.

Don’t worry, the twist is coming.

The contestants are ordered to unwrap their items. Zoo releases an excited “yes!” upon revealing her fire starter. Asian Chick smiles over a twelve-pack of chocolate bars. Rancher nods noncommittally at a metal cup with foldable handles; it’s large enough to double as a small cooking pot. Cheerleader Boy blurts an exhausted expletive at his short stack of black trash bags. Air Force shrugs at a package of freeze-dried cabbage. Biology flips her box of cookie-dough-flavored protein bars and frowns at the long ingredient list. Waitress leans over her shoulder and asks, “Do those have gluten in them?” Biology’s eyebrows lift, but Exorcist forestalls her reply with a cackle like snapping flame. In his hands is a three-pronged dowsing rod. He holds out the rod, steering through the air. He looks directly into the viewers’ eyes and says, “How fitting.” The other eleven contestants recoil, visibly and as one.

The dowsing rod was Banker’s initially. He thought it might be a slingshot, but now he understands, though this slight is more subtle than most. He nods toward the dowsing rod, then shakes the box of waterproof matches he just unwrapped. “These are looking pretty good,” he says.

The host steps up, front and center. “While you all will ultimately have to build your own camps and survive as individuals,” he says, “tonight is group camps and tomorrow will be a Team Challenge. To pick our teams—our first three finishers. Captains, your team members each come with whatever supplies they now hold, and while they will retain ownership of their supplies come tomorrow, for tonight they’re yours.” He pauses to let meaning settle, then elaborates with a creeping smile, “Contestants, if your captain wants to use, eat, or drink your item, you cannot say no.”

“No way,” says Waitress. The shot zooms in on her shocked face—her water, she doesn’t want to share.

Tracker, Zoo, and Air Force step forward and pick their groups, one by one. Tracker holds an unwrapped and unwanted flashlight. His first choice confounds: Rancher and his metal cup. A metal cup, when he could have extra water, or matches, or the iodine pills? This needs to be explained. Later, Tracker will be told to sit. He will face a single question, the answer to which will be spliced into the viewers’ now: “I don’t like the taste of iodine. I’d rather boil water for drinking.”

Zoo chooses Engineer and his fishing kit. No explanation needed; the river’s insides glisten with trout. Air Force chooses Black Doctor because he looks competent, and while he’d love Waitress’s clean, clear water, her incompetence seems too steep a price to pay. The selections continue and in the end the teams are presented to viewers with their supplies as subtitles.

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