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katherine_b at 08:59am on 14/01/2007
katherine_b at 08:59am on 14/01/2007Chapter Four – Episode Two
Tribes
Cakobau
Annabelle-Marie
Andrea
Hayden
Jarod
Mike
Peter
Rachael
Tiffany
Naulivou
Bob
Candy
Chris
Louise
Meredith
Michael
Richard
Sarah
“I have been meaning to ask,” began Sydney as the trio sat down in Broots’ living room to watch the second episode of Survivor: Fiji, “what did they find out about Blue Cove? What do they say is there?”
“A business that appears to be involved in problem-solving,” replied Miss Parker, before Broots could speak, adding, with a sneer, “A genius deduction, don’t you think, considering that Jarod gives his occupation as ‘problem-solver’?”
The episode began with Naulivou returning from Tribal Council. Under the cover of feet crashing through the undergrowth, Sarah hissed to Louise, “I thought you were with us.”
“Better offer from the guys,” Louise retorted.
Sarah dropped back, directing a black look at the group ahead, and murmured “Bitch” to Candy, the word coming up on the screen as a subtitle. Candy shot her a glance, but said nothing in reply.
Cakobau was also shown back in their camp, but as the vote had been unanimous, there was no conflict to be found here.
“We should work on the shelter tomorrow,” remarked Mike as they settled down around the fire. “If we get bad weather, what we have now won’t stand any kind of a wind.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Andrea, as she scooped out the remains of a coconut.
“Two-story town-house?” suggested Mike, and the others laughed.
“What about a traditional Fijian hut?” Jarod offered. “That might be fun, and it’s not as difficult as the houses we have in America. No internal walls, for starters.”
“Oh, those round things with the thatched roofs?” suggested Hayden. “Bures, aren’t they called? That would be kind of fun. I’ve always wanted to make a thatched roof.”
“Won’t it be harder than just a normal shelter?” Rachael wanted to know as she finished up her share of the corn they had cooked earlier that day.
“Not really.” Mike smoothed some dirt and, in the light of the fire, drew a circle. “We’ll dig round holes and put straight tree trunks into them so they can’t get blown over. Then we’ll weave walls from the grasses here and wind them between the trunks so that we’ve got one room.”
“And the thatched ceiling?” Annabelle-Marie wanted to know. “It’s going to be pretty tough without nails.”
There was a moment of silence while they thought about this before Jarod made a suggestion. “How about if we get a couple more trees that are taller than the ones we use for walls and put them at either end of the hut…”
“How does a round house have ends?” Rachael wanted to know, and they all laughed.
“I get what you mean,” said Mike. “Rest another trunk on top of the two we’ve got as uprights and run the thatching off that. We can use other branches and vines to tie it all down. That might just work, Jarod.”
“And not before time,” added Peter as the rising wind ripped several fronds off the shelter they had already made and disappeared into the darkness.
“But let’s not tire ourselves before the challenge,” said Annabelle-Marie, with a quick glance at her well-manicured fingernails.
“Oh, it shouldn’t take too long,” said Mike easily, and then the tribe settled into their shelter for the evening. A shot of the sky showed lightning flashing as a storm approached, which had been billed in the promotional ads as the worst storm ever to hit a I program.
“You look worried, Syd,” Miss Parker remarked as the commercials began and Broots muted the television.
“I am,” he agreed. “Jarod has never done a Pretend that went constantly for as long as this program does. Thirty-nine days, you said, Broots? I worry about how he will cope with it mentally. It will be a tremendous pressure for him.”
“You did long-term sims when he was in the Centre,” she reminded him.
“But he always had time to himself at night, or almost always,” Sydney replied. “In Fiji, he might not have that opportunity.”
As if in response to this, after the commercials, the screen still showed Cakobau camp and Jarod sitting beside the fire while the rest of the tribe slept in the shelter. After a moment, he rose and walked in the direction of the beach – the tribe had set their camp back a little way into the trees to avoid the insects that seemed to cover the sand. The camera followed him a distance from the camp and then, with night-vision, he sat down for another interview.
“I’m not really used to being around people twenty-four/seven,” he confided, “and this is about the only opportunity I’ll get for a break from that. Gives me a chance to think about me, not the game.”
Sydney made a small sound of satisfaction in his throat and sat back against the sofa, his expression relaxing.
“I’m happy with the way it’s going so far,” said Jarod. “We guys have a tight alliance, with Rachael and Andrea. I’m not so sure about Annabelle-Marie. We’ll have to see. But it was good to see a bit of how Naulivou thought. That could be really useful. Of course, they have the same advantage for us, but we all did well with the speeches we planned for Tribal Council, so with any luck we’ll have taken them in.”
“I thought you weren’t thinking about the game,” remarked Miss Parker with a grin. However, her amused expression disappeared the next moment.
“Jarod?” a female voice called, and then Andrea appeared on the screen in the background.
“Over here,” Jarod said softly, and the camera pulled back a little, out of the close-up confessional shot to show a wider scene.
“What are you doing?” Andrea wanted to know as she came to sit beside Jarod on the sand.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jarod replied, noncommittally.
“Thinking about the game?”
“And other things.” Jarod looked out over the water. “Did you ever just sit and listen to the waves?”
“Jarod, I live in Wyoming,” she retorted drily. “Pretty hard to find a beach there.”
Jarod chuckled softly and draped an arm around her shoulders. Miss Parker found that she was gripping the arms of her chair unnecessarily hard and forced herself to relax.
“He’s playing a role,” she reminded herself. “And besides, what should you care if he chooses to pay attention to some idiot?”
Unaware that both Broots and Sydney had glanced at her when Jarod moved his arm, she returned her attention to the television, finding that it was the next morning and Naulivou were struggling to light their fire without a flint. Richard was barking out orders, but nothing seemed to be happening.
“I think we got Sarge Mark II,” said Michael to Bob as they went off to collect water. Then, seeing the salesman’s blank expression, “Oh, you didn’t see Vanuatu? They had drill sergeant and he was just like Richard.”
Bob grinned. “And how long did he last?”
“About nine episodes, I think,” replied Michael. “I think the women took him out in the end. Didn’t you see that one?”
“Nope,” came the reply. Then Bob looked up. “We’re tight, right?”
“Yeah. As long as I can trust a salesman,” teased Michael.
There was a shot of a snake moving through the undergrowth and then the cameras were on Cakobau. The building of the new shelter was well underway, with all of the poles fixed firmly in the ground in a large circle. Mike and Jarod were digging the holes for the roof supports, while Rachael, Hayden and Peter could be seen hauling over more trees. Annabelle-Marie and Andrea were weaving the grass into long, tall panels.
“How are we doing over here?” Jarod asked as he finished the hole and wandered over to wash his hands.
“Nearly done,” replied Annabelle-Marie with a beaming smile, and Miss Parker choked silently.
“He’s such a nice guy,” Annabelle-Marie simpered, in a confessional that was shown immediately after this scene. “He always makes time to talk to every single person on the tribe every day and you feel so special.”
Miss Parker snorted. “Of course he does, you idiot,” she told the image on the screen. “That’s his game-plan.”
“It is clearly working,” remarked Sydney.
Before any of them could speak again, a knock interrupted the discussion and Broots rose to open his front door. After a second of apparently stunned silence followed by a murmured conversation, he stepped back and invited the visitor to enter. Both Sydney and Miss Parker stared in surprise at the sight of Sam the sweeper, who stood awkwardly in the doorway to the living room.
“He has something important to tell you, Miss Parker,” said Broots as he returned to his chair.
“Well, what is it, Sam?” the woman demanded.
“Miss Parker, I thought you should know, and I didn’t want to risk anyone else at the Centre overhearing,” Sam said. “Reception is getting heaps of calls, all asking for Jarod.”
“Jarod?!” The exclamation came from Miss Parker and Sydney simultaneously.
“Yes,” Sam agreed. “They’ve put a call through to the Triumvirate about it. I overheard them talking and thought I should let you know.”
“Who are they – the people calling?” Miss Parker demanded.
“I don’t know,” the sweeper admitted. “Just ordinary people, fans of Survivor, I guess.”
Miss Parker instantly looked at Sam with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been away for the past week in Africa to be there for those meetings one of the Tower members had with the Triumvirate, Sam. How did you know it had anything to do with Survivor?”
The sweeper immediately looked guilty, and Sydney chuckled. “Are you something of a fan, Sam?”
Broots’ eyes lit up and he immediately began discussing the series in a way that was completely incomprehensible to either Sydney or Miss Parker, but which Sam clearly understood, for he was soon involved enough to take a seat without an invitation, something he would never usually have considered doing.
Tribes
Cakobau
Annabelle-Marie
Andrea
Hayden
Jarod
Mike
Peter
Rachael
Naulivou
Bob
Candy
Chris
Louise
Michael
Richard
Sarah
“I have been meaning to ask,” began Sydney as the trio sat down in Broots’ living room to watch the second episode of Survivor: Fiji, “what did they find out about Blue Cove? What do they say is there?”
“A business that appears to be involved in problem-solving,” replied Miss Parker, before Broots could speak, adding, with a sneer, “A genius deduction, don’t you think, considering that Jarod gives his occupation as ‘problem-solver’?”
The episode began with Naulivou returning from Tribal Council. Under the cover of feet crashing through the undergrowth, Sarah hissed to Louise, “I thought you were with us.”
“Better offer from the guys,” Louise retorted.
Sarah dropped back, directing a black look at the group ahead, and murmured “Bitch” to Candy, the word coming up on the screen as a subtitle. Candy shot her a glance, but said nothing in reply.
Cakobau was also shown back in their camp, but as the vote had been unanimous, there was no conflict to be found here.
“We should work on the shelter tomorrow,” remarked Mike as they settled down around the fire. “If we get bad weather, what we have now won’t stand any kind of a wind.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Andrea, as she scooped out the remains of a coconut.
“Two-story town-house?” suggested Mike, and the others laughed.
“What about a traditional Fijian hut?” Jarod offered. “That might be fun, and it’s not as difficult as the houses we have in America. No internal walls, for starters.”
“Oh, those round things with the thatched roofs?” suggested Hayden. “Bures, aren’t they called? That would be kind of fun. I’ve always wanted to make a thatched roof.”
“Won’t it be harder than just a normal shelter?” Rachael wanted to know as she finished up her share of the corn they had cooked earlier that day.
“Not really.” Mike smoothed some dirt and, in the light of the fire, drew a circle. “We’ll dig round holes and put straight tree trunks into them so they can’t get blown over. Then we’ll weave walls from the grasses here and wind them between the trunks so that we’ve got one room.”
“And the thatched ceiling?” Annabelle-Marie wanted to know. “It’s going to be pretty tough without nails.”
There was a moment of silence while they thought about this before Jarod made a suggestion. “How about if we get a couple more trees that are taller than the ones we use for walls and put them at either end of the hut…”
“How does a round house have ends?” Rachael wanted to know, and they all laughed.
“I get what you mean,” said Mike. “Rest another trunk on top of the two we’ve got as uprights and run the thatching off that. We can use other branches and vines to tie it all down. That might just work, Jarod.”
“And not before time,” added Peter as the rising wind ripped several fronds off the shelter they had already made and disappeared into the darkness.
“But let’s not tire ourselves before the challenge,” said Annabelle-Marie, with a quick glance at her well-manicured fingernails.
“Oh, it shouldn’t take too long,” said Mike easily, and then the tribe settled into their shelter for the evening. A shot of the sky showed lightning flashing as a storm approached, which had been billed in the promotional ads as the worst storm ever to hit a I program.
“You look worried, Syd,” Miss Parker remarked as the commercials began and Broots muted the television.
“I am,” he agreed. “Jarod has never done a Pretend that went constantly for as long as this program does. Thirty-nine days, you said, Broots? I worry about how he will cope with it mentally. It will be a tremendous pressure for him.”
“You did long-term sims when he was in the Centre,” she reminded him.
“But he always had time to himself at night, or almost always,” Sydney replied. “In Fiji, he might not have that opportunity.”
As if in response to this, after the commercials, the screen still showed Cakobau camp and Jarod sitting beside the fire while the rest of the tribe slept in the shelter. After a moment, he rose and walked in the direction of the beach – the tribe had set their camp back a little way into the trees to avoid the insects that seemed to cover the sand. The camera followed him a distance from the camp and then, with night-vision, he sat down for another interview.
“I’m not really used to being around people twenty-four/seven,” he confided, “and this is about the only opportunity I’ll get for a break from that. Gives me a chance to think about me, not the game.”
Sydney made a small sound of satisfaction in his throat and sat back against the sofa, his expression relaxing.
“I’m happy with the way it’s going so far,” said Jarod. “We guys have a tight alliance, with Rachael and Andrea. I’m not so sure about Annabelle-Marie. We’ll have to see. But it was good to see a bit of how Naulivou thought. That could be really useful. Of course, they have the same advantage for us, but we all did well with the speeches we planned for Tribal Council, so with any luck we’ll have taken them in.”
“I thought you weren’t thinking about the game,” remarked Miss Parker with a grin. However, her amused expression disappeared the next moment.
“Jarod?” a female voice called, and then Andrea appeared on the screen in the background.
“Over here,” Jarod said softly, and the camera pulled back a little, out of the close-up confessional shot to show a wider scene.
“What are you doing?” Andrea wanted to know as she came to sit beside Jarod on the sand.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Jarod replied, noncommittally.
“Thinking about the game?”
“And other things.” Jarod looked out over the water. “Did you ever just sit and listen to the waves?”
“Jarod, I live in Wyoming,” she retorted drily. “Pretty hard to find a beach there.”
Jarod chuckled softly and draped an arm around her shoulders. Miss Parker found that she was gripping the arms of her chair unnecessarily hard and forced herself to relax.
“He’s playing a role,” she reminded herself. “And besides, what should you care if he chooses to pay attention to some idiot?”
Unaware that both Broots and Sydney had glanced at her when Jarod moved his arm, she returned her attention to the television, finding that it was the next morning and Naulivou were struggling to light their fire without a flint. Richard was barking out orders, but nothing seemed to be happening.
“I think we got Sarge Mark II,” said Michael to Bob as they went off to collect water. Then, seeing the salesman’s blank expression, “Oh, you didn’t see Vanuatu? They had drill sergeant and he was just like Richard.”
Bob grinned. “And how long did he last?”
“About nine episodes, I think,” replied Michael. “I think the women took him out in the end. Didn’t you see that one?”
“Nope,” came the reply. Then Bob looked up. “We’re tight, right?”
“Yeah. As long as I can trust a salesman,” teased Michael.
There was a shot of a snake moving through the undergrowth and then the cameras were on Cakobau. The building of the new shelter was well underway, with all of the poles fixed firmly in the ground in a large circle. Mike and Jarod were digging the holes for the roof supports, while Rachael, Hayden and Peter could be seen hauling over more trees. Annabelle-Marie and Andrea were weaving the grass into long, tall panels.
“How are we doing over here?” Jarod asked as he finished the hole and wandered over to wash his hands.
“Nearly done,” replied Annabelle-Marie with a beaming smile, and Miss Parker choked silently.
“He’s such a nice guy,” Annabelle-Marie simpered, in a confessional that was shown immediately after this scene. “He always makes time to talk to every single person on the tribe every day and you feel so special.”
Miss Parker snorted. “Of course he does, you idiot,” she told the image on the screen. “That’s his game-plan.”
“It is clearly working,” remarked Sydney.
Before any of them could speak again, a knock interrupted the discussion and Broots rose to open his front door. After a second of apparently stunned silence followed by a murmured conversation, he stepped back and invited the visitor to enter. Both Sydney and Miss Parker stared in surprise at the sight of Sam the sweeper, who stood awkwardly in the doorway to the living room.
“He has something important to tell you, Miss Parker,” said Broots as he returned to his chair.
“Well, what is it, Sam?” the woman demanded.
“Miss Parker, I thought you should know, and I didn’t want to risk anyone else at the Centre overhearing,” Sam said. “Reception is getting heaps of calls, all asking for Jarod.”
“Jarod?!” The exclamation came from Miss Parker and Sydney simultaneously.
“Yes,” Sam agreed. “They’ve put a call through to the Triumvirate about it. I overheard them talking and thought I should let you know.”
“Who are they – the people calling?” Miss Parker demanded.
“I don’t know,” the sweeper admitted. “Just ordinary people, fans of Survivor, I guess.”
Miss Parker instantly looked at Sam with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been away for the past week in Africa to be there for those meetings one of the Tower members had with the Triumvirate, Sam. How did you know it had anything to do with Survivor?”
The sweeper immediately looked guilty, and Sydney chuckled. “Are you something of a fan, Sam?”
Broots’ eyes lit up and he immediately began discussing the series in a way that was completely incomprehensible to either Sydney or Miss Parker, but which Sam clearly understood, for he was soon involved enough to take a seat without an invitation, something he would never usually have considered doing.
busy
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