
Ladies and Gentlemen, This Is Your Crisis
by Kate Wilhelm
Copyright 1976
_4 P.M. Friday_
LOTTIE'S FACTORY closed early on Friday, as most of them did now. It was four when she got
home, after stopping for frozen dinners, bread, sandwich meats, beer. She switched on the wall TV
screen before she put her bag down. In the kitchen she turned on another set, a portable, and watched it
as she put the food away. She had missed four hours.
They were in the mountains. That was good. Lottie liked it when they chose mountains. A stocky man
was sliding down a slope, feet out before him, legs stiff -- too conscious of the camera, though. Lottie
couldn't tell if he had meant to slide, but he did not look happy. She turned her attention to the others.
A young woman was walking slowly, waist high in ferns, so apparently unconscious of the camera that it
could only be a pose this early in the game. She looked vaguely familiar. Her blond hair was loose, like a
girl in a shampoo commercial, Lottie decided. She narrowed her eyes, trying to remember where she
had seen the girl. A model, probably, wanting to be a star. She would wander aimlessly, not even trying
for the prize, content with the publicity she was getting.
The other woman was another sort altogether. A bit overweight, her thighs bulged in the heavy trousers
the contestants wore; her hair was dyed black and fastened with a rubber band in a no-nonsense
manner. She was examining a tree intently. Lottie nodded at her. Everything about her spoke of purpose,
of concentration, of planning. She'd do.
The final contestant was a tall black man, in his forties probably. He wore old-fashioned eyeglasses -- a
mistake. He'd lose them and be seriously handicapped. He kept glancing about with a lopsided grin.
Lottie had finished putting the groceries away; she returned to the living room to sit before the large unit
that gave her a better view of the map, above the sectioned screen. The Andes, she had decided, and
was surprised and pleased to find she was wrong. Alaska! There were bears and wolves in Alaska still,
and elk and moose.
The picture shifted, and a thrill of anticipation raised the hairs on Lottie's arms and scalp. Now the main
screen was evenly divided; one half showed the man who had been sliding. He was huddled against the
cliff, breathing very hard. On the other half of the screen was an enlarged aerial view. Lottie gasped.
Needle-like snow-capped peaks, cliffs, precipices, a raging stream... The yellow dot of light that
represented the man was on the edge of a steep hill covered with boulders and loose gravel. If he got on
that, Lottie thought, he'd be lost. From where he was, there was no way he could know what lay ahead.
She leaned forward, examining him for signs that he understood, that he was afraid, anything. His face
was empty; all he needed now was more air than he could get with his labored breathing.
Andy Stevens stepped in front of the aerial map; it was three feet taller than he. "As you can see, ladies
and gentlemen, there is only this scrub growth to Dr. Burnside's left. Those roots might be strong enough
to hold, but I'd guess they are shallowly rooted, wouldn't you? And if he chooses this direction, he'll
need something to grasp, won't he?" Andy had his tape measure and a pointer. He looked worried. He
touched the yellow dot of light. "Here he is. As you can see, he is resting, for the moment, on a narrow