Pana and the Lahaina Armory

The Kanaka believe that everyone is given the same two things when they are born. The world gives you a purpose and your ancestors give you a special skill. As you work your way through life, it is your job to discover your purpose and to cultivate your skill. It is not easy. In fact, it is one of the hardest parts of life. Often your purpose and your skill don’t have anything to do with one another. Many lose their way while trying to find their purpose. Some never get a chance to practice their skill before it is time to rejoin their ancestors, leading to much anger and discontent. However, A rare few seem to have a special insight and know from an early age what their life should look like and what they should do. Auntie Pana is one such person. Her purpose in life is to provide those around her with the tools necessary to protect themselves and the ones they love, and her skill is gunsmithing.

Before the fracture the building we all know now as The Armory was a museum. There people could look at ancient artifacts and learn not just the history of the islands but of other places and cultures as well. It is where Pana’s parents met, worked, and fell in love. It was also their sanctuary after the accident. The Armory’s strong walls and roof allowed it to survive the chaos while other structures were laid to waste. Being a museum, it was not at the top of the list for looting, so Pana’s parents didn’t have to worry about bandits or desperate survivors. There probably isn’t a perfect place to try and ride out the end of a civilization, but her mother thought this was as close as they were going to get. Her parents gathered all their surviving extended family and tried to make new lives for themselves.

Pana was different from other children, her sister Oki included. While her sister delighted in picking flowers to decorate the halls, and hearing tales of great battles and heroes, before going to the beach to look for shark teeth, Pana was more reserved. She would spend her days inside learning how things worked and building herself toys from broken or discarded gear. Above all, she loved her grandfather’s old revolver and was never found without it. Her father worried that such an item was inappropriate or dangerous for someone so young, but her mother reassured him that it hadn’t worked since she herself was a little girl and they didn’t have any bullets. Since it seemed to give her so much comfort they agreed to let her have it. While most girls her age had a favorite blanket or doll to help them go to sleep, Pana tucked the revolver beneath her pillow every night before drifting off. It was one such night that Pana’s skill first revealed itself.

Her father was awoken by a noise coming from outside. A team of deadly forest boars were rooting and tearing through the family garden. Her father ran to awaken the rest of the family to try and drive the beasts off and save their food. Just as he was gathering the spears they would need he heard a gunshot. Fearing that bandits were attacking he began to barricade the front door when he noticed little Pana slip through a window. In her hand she held her grandfather’s smoking revolver, “I topped da boes fum eating our food daddy,” she proudly proclaimed.

The adults cautiously went to the garden only to find a large boar with one clean hole directly in the shoulder; the perfect place to drop the creature. At barely 4, Pana had not only fixed the gun but had made a handful of cartridges. At her father’s urging, Pana showed him the tools she had made including a reloading press constructed from a bike pump and an old waffle iron. Amazed at her ingenuity and talent, the family began to indulge the girl’s desire to learn and innovate. Not to be outdone by her sister, Oki proved to be remarkable in her own right, becoming a master of the more traditional arms of the islands.

While her sister’s creations are full of flourish and intricate designs, Auntie Pana has become a master of no frills precision and dependable mechanics. In contrast to the well kept and immaculately decorated rooms of The Armory run by her sister, Pana’s workshop in a hodgepodge of tools, partially completed projects, and “items of promise”. Oki often quips that her sister is “a ballistic goddess, not a domestic one.” But her abilities and skill are no joke. Her tree cannons are well known on the island and feared by bandits and creatures of the fracture alike. Her internalized cocking mechanisms are ingenious. Her automatic ejector systems are divine. Pana learned her purpose at a very young age and has been honing her skills for over 50 years now. There is no better place to buy a weapon on the island than The Armory, and there is no better gunsmith than Auntie Pana.

We Need To Secure the Computers In the Preservation Zone

from: Brandon Kama
to: Greg Iona
date: Fri, May 16, 2031 at 4:53 PM
subject: Securing the Computers In the Preservation Zone

Hi Greg,

I know I’m supposed to go through official channels with complaints and concerns but we have an ongoing issue with the Phxicom terminals out here that I’d like to get addressed. I’ve sent my concerns up the chain of command, and called the head Forestry and Wildlife office a handful of times with no response. I know you and Tom are good friends so I was hoping you could talk to him for me because I’m not sure the messages are getting to him.

In case you didn’t know, The Division of Forestry and Wildlife partnered with Phxicom last year to install terminals along the trails and key points of interest in the Preservation Zone. It’s been a hit with the tourists. A visitor who buys a lifetime pass from the Department of Land and Natural Resources gets a key that can be used at any of terminals in the zone. The key keeps track of where you’ve been and displays it on an overlay. It points out places that might be of interest to you and how far away they are based on how fast you’ve been traveling. They added a bunch of other features this year like a geo-location app so you can identify where pictures were taken, and a bird song identifier. Our troubles began soon after that.

We began to notice that a large number of guests had keys. That didn’t seem like a problem at first until the membership report came in and the math didn’t work. According to the main office only 13% of visitors paid for a lifetime membership. Then we got a complaint from a tourist that a key was stuck in one of the terminals. When we discovered that the key was a poorly made knockoff, my mind immediately went to Ano Lee and his gang of degenerate builders.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had the pleasure of going up there, but everything they say is true, it’s surreal. The first thing that hits you is the smell. It’s like someone filled a sweatsock with ranch dressing, breaded it with salt and vinegar chips and deep-fried it. I swear one of the cops I was with gagged when we walked into the printer shed. I know they have this fantasy that they’d be able to rebuild society, or would survive better because of all that maker stuff, but if mankind had to count on them after the apocalypse I’d rather swim out to sea and take my chances with the sharks. Of course nobody knew where Ano was and gave us the runaround so we kept looking.

Eventually we made it over to that dayglow nightmare they call the tchotchke hut. At least the smell there was manageable and you could barely hear the racket of all those printers, I can almost see why it’s so popular with the tourists. We started looking around and at first all we find is the usual plastic crap you’d expect. Then I started finding some really weird stuff at the back of the shop. They had a section of solar-powered toothbrushes of every color you can image and a waterproof toatser oven. I turned around to point it out to the police and noticed a box sticking out from under a shelf. When I pulled it out I saw it was filled with counterfeit keys.

Long story short, they made a deal with the prosecutor, paid a fine and ended up repairing some of the benches along the trails, replaced some signs, that sort of thing. I thought that was going to be the end of it but I should have known better. Over the last few weeks someone has been stripping parts off of the terminals and leaving some not-so-tourist-friendly images on the most visited machines. Whoever is doing it has been careful but has left a trail a couple of times. I think you can guess what direction the trails have led. I’ve called the cops multiple times of course, but they haven’t found anything up there yet.

I’ve been asking for more rangers to patrol the area but haven’t heard anything back. I understand that there’s budget issues to consider, but I feel like this is a great program that is being ruined by a group of extremely vicious and dirty ne’er-do-wells. I’m not sure if Phxicom has a model that’s tougher to dismantle quickly or something. This is a great promotion for them too and maybe someone over there should take a more active interest in helping us out. I don’t know. Hopefully you have a solution or can at least pass my concerns on to someone who does. Thanks in advance!

Excerpt from Captain Hank Gaud’s Book “Around the World In 80 Milliseconds”

The transport area looked nothing like I imagined it would. There was no hoop or archway to walk through, no door, or giant metal cannister that I would be lowered into. No, it looked just like a sturdy chair with some some equipment and a thousand tubes and wires mounted above. The team had spent years preparing for this moment.

They had sent a 1kg cube of tungsten through the gateway back in 2026 and some of that same team surrounded me. I’d be lying if I said some of their stories about the early days weren’t still stuck in my head. Some of the first cubes were lost forever. They still didn’t know where for sure. Others ended up warped and misshapen. One even got stuck to the floor somehow. The rat made it through the following year. They didn’t talk much about that, which worried me more than the earlier cube horror stories.

They had two-and-a-half-years to get it right I kept telling myself. I had to trust that they wanted me to make it as much as I did. We were all on the verge of making history. Like me, these people were the best of the best, specially chosen for the project. I trusted them with my life. It was my heart beating out of my chest that I was worried about.

As a pilot you usually have the semblance of control even when everything has gone to shit. Pulling on a stick, flipping a switch, or pushing a lever helps you focus even if it doesn’t help. A focused mind is a fast mind, and a fast mind makes fast decisions. It’s those fast, definitive decisions that can save you when the aircraft, and you, come crashing down. This was completely different.

The chair would hold me completely still. It didn’t matter how quickly I knew the process was working or not. There wasn’t anything for me to do but hold on and pray that everyone had done their job. As they strapped me in, I wondered if I was the right person for the project, but doubt is a dream killer. I had trained hard for this day and we were going to make this dream of Dr. Oeming come true. Just then I saw him enter the room.

Ironically his jet was having mechanical problems that day and he had to book a last minute flight. He had called earlier and told everyone to conduct the test even if he couldn’t make it, but I couldn’t imagine that day without him. I wondered if the people around Archimedes or Tesla appreciated just how lucky they were to be around that kind of genius. I knew that I couldn’t understand it fully myself. I didn’t know how any of this worked, not really. I was just the guy brave or dumb enough to volunteer. That didn’t mean that I was ignorant of what an honor it was. I appreciated him the way someone who doesn’t paint can acknowledge a work of the great masters. I’ll remember the look of excitement in his eye and the quiver in his voice when he wished me luck until the day I die. If this went all as planned my name would forever be associated with Eric Oeming. That alone was worth all the risks.

It was time and the countdown began. I felt the tingle of electricity on my skin. The hum grew louder and louder until it was deafening. The room began to shimmer like the air off hot tarmac. I realized that I couldn’t hear anything anymore. It wasn’t just quiet, there was a complete lack of any sound and everything went black for a moment. I thought I heard music playing somewhere off in the distance and my head began to spin. Then just as quickly as it had gone dark, a blinding light made me wince. Slowly the light began to dim and I could once again hear the normal sounds of the lab. My head was still spinning. I was glad that I was strapped into the chair. I could hear shouts and I thought something had gone wrong. After half a minute or so I could see what the shouting was about. In front of me was the lab in Kona instead of Seattle, where I had just been. It had worked! I had traveled through the Veil.