Dear Main Office,
It has been quite a while since my last communication warning of my co-workers lack of focus, and failure to follow proper lab protocols. Since I didn’t hear back I chose to take the matter in my own hands, and protect the valuable work we’ve done. I’ve properly secured the labs, removed the stills, the stockpiles of alcohol, and ensured that our research will never be endangered by those miscreants again.
I’ve embraced the surviving native people in the area, who are calling themselves the Kānaka, and have offered basic medical treatments in exchange for help at the facility. Despite their lack of training and limitations due to their various maladies, they are eager and have a good work ethic. In fact, with their help I believe we’ve finally achieved our goal, the test subjects are ready.
The native workers call them menehune, after the race of small craftsmen in Hawaiian mythology. The name suits them well enough so I’ve adopted the moniker myself. There has been a surprising number of animals that have survived the fracture, including a large population of white rats. It turns out that was the key. Instead of replacing introns with our tailored DNA only, I’ve replaced a number of strands harvested from the escaped lab animals with remarkable results.
There are now close to 200 menehune housed in the facility and surrounding buildings. I used a combination of classical training techniques and shock devices to teach them the required skills laid out in the program materials. They are capable workers when directed and in good mood, but are capricious and prone to dismantle or break items if not closely monitored. However, it is a fascinating reoccurring behavior that I’m writing you about today.
Zoology is among my many advanced degrees, and the wonders of the natural world have always intrigued me. The tiny pistol shrimp can produce noises with their claws in excess of 218 decibels. Kangaroo rats can go their entire lives without drinking water, and the common swift is able to fly for 10 months straight without landing. All of these are astonishing feats but none are as amazingly complex, or bizarrely beautiful as the dance of the menehune.
Always held on the night of the first new moon of the year, preparations for the dance begin about a month before. During this time the non-paired adults are exceptionally bad-tempered and single minded in purpose. The males begin hoarding vast quantities of technology from broken equipment like fans and computer terminals to smaller working electronics. The males will need both working, and non-working items to present to females during the night long dance.
The females meanwhile begin gathering any brightly colored objects they can find in order to adorn themselves. Scraps of clothing, flowers, and strips of posters are among the most sought after coverings, but I’ve seen some use bits of colored brick or bent signs as costuming as well. Anything shiny or sufficiently tinted that can be bent, pinned, or balanced can end up as part of the garb for the night of the dance. Especially large or strong females can be so adorned on the night of the dance that they are hard to distinguish from small piles of rubble.
The dance begins as soon as the sun sets. The paired adults and young surround the unattached menehune and begin to hum, wail, and beat the ground. As a side effect of the gene splicing, the menehune unfortunately suffer from acute congenital amusia, better known as beat deafness. Their “music” is a jarring cacophony. Unable to move in synch with a musical beat or rhythm, even if there was one, the single menehune begin their dance.
It is a frantic affair marked with sudden lurches, and flailing limbs set apart by prolonged periods of time in which their bodies shake in anticipation of trying to once again capture a beat. During these periods of relative inactivity the males begin to present their gifts. It is at this time that they must gauge if the females want to build or break things. If they present the wrong gift the females reactions can range from simply ignoring the male, to letting out a deafening scream followed by a hard strike or kick.
Once a male has discovered his potential mates preference he will generally present larger or more complex gifts. However, the menehune’s unpredictable tendencies lead to many of the females changing their preferences, often many times, throughout the night. Early success is not a good indicator or ultimate victory. It is common for males experiencing their first dance to become overly distraught leading to a frenzy of gifting. This leaves them nothing to present later during the night and ultimately failure.
Once the dance has begun the participants don’t eat, drink, or engage in any other activity until morning. Like an alarm only they can hear, the frenzy of disjointed motion and aggrieved howls ends all at once when the first ray of light breaks. Those lucky enough to have a receptive partner at that time pair up, and leave to find an suitable nest. The rest of the the assembled menehune wander off to sleep and discuss the night’s activities. I’ve heard it said that there are a handful of events in your life that you never forget or change you forever. For me, the dance of the menehune fits both of those categories.
