Amy had made a point of not getting hooked on the TV phenomenon, "Castaway", but tonight she would be forced to watch. Well, not really forced. Captain Locklear--David--had suggested a quiet evening of "Castaway" viewing at his place, just the two of them. It was an offer she couldn't refuse.
"The ads say there'll be a huge surprise tonight," David said eagerly as they settled onto the couch.
Amy knew the basics. Five "Castaway" contestants still remained on the tropical island, along with a film crew and the promise that one of the five would be eliminated by the end of tonight's episode.
"The TV viewers vote for who gets cut," David explained. "There's this guy everyone hates, Ernie Fox. He lies and he's lazy. He steals food. But the viewers love him. He won't get voted off 'til the end. He may even win the million dollars."
"Which one is he?"
"Ernie's not in this shot. There's only one camera, and it usually sticks with the majority."
It was midmorning on the beach, and high tide was lapping at the row of palms that encircled the island. Four scruffy "castaways" sat by a fire above the palm line, whispering to themselves--and to 30 million viewers.
"I can't take him anymore," hissed a linebacker of a woman in her early 30s. Amy's TV listing identified her as Chloe Manson, a Vermont veterinarian.
"There's a cooperative contest today," said a fit, gray-haired man. He stirred the fire with his walking stick, a gnarled piece of driftwood he'd decorated with blue parrot feathers.
"Harry Hunt," David announced. "Last week, Ernie pushed him, spraining his left ankle. Harry's a sympathetic favorite to win the whole thing."
Tony D'Amato, a college frat boy, chuckled. "I say we make the contest hard on Ernie. Maybe he'll get injured and have to leave."
"He won't leave," snarled the second woman, a secretary from Hawaii. "I always thought evil was punished. But this audience...." She shook her head. "It's not right." The young woman bolted to her feet and strode off into the brush.
"Marla Weeks," David said. "I'll bet she's the next to go."
Gray-haired Harry rose slowly and tested his ankle. "I don't think I need this anymore," he said and tossed his walking stick into the fire.
From the fire, the camera cross-faded to a shot of everyone's enemy, Ernie. He spoke directly to the viewers and seemed a little repentant for his bad behavior--also a little scared.
The camera then cut back to the others as they spent solo time foraging for food and repairing their huts after last night's rain.
Sometime in the afternoon, when the daily contest was set to begin, they gathered by the communal tent. But Ernie never arrived. It seems no one had seen Ernie since the film crew did their bit with him.
Right before the commercial break, they finally located Ernie, dead in a hammock between a pair of beachfront palms.
"Wow." Amy sounded impressed. "They really do eliminate the losers. What a show!"
