STORYLINE

The Menehune Domestication Program is a Misguided Failure

At the request of program specialist Gary, and against my better judgment, I have been hard at work assessing the feasibility of a menehune domestication program for the Lahaina Merchants Association. Despite what the notes he discovered in the Vereserum labs have suggested, we have found the creatures extremely difficult to work with and handle. As everyone but Gary might expect, our experience so far shows that they can become violent and prone to destroy their surroundings when frustrated or upset. In addition to ignoring common sense, we believe the following are the biggest hurdles we’ll have to overcome if we want to continue Gary’s monster-helper program.

Branding: When most people hear the word menehune they don’t think, “useful furry companion for House maintenance or domestic chores,” they think about being eaten alive by the hairy little creatures. (I just want to make sure that you are aware that this has actually happened in a few cases involving the injured, and the elderly. Gary says that we just need to include a warning, but I remain unconvinced that selling an octogenarian a creature that has an equal chance of eating them and helping them fold clothes, is a good business model.) As you can imagine, this makes giving a name to this disaster waiting to happen a challenge. To be honest, all of his suggestions so far are terrible. None of the proposed names have done well in the focus groups. Claw Care, Monster Maid, and Beasts of Burden round out the bottom of the list, with Helperhune receiving the warmest approval, so that’s what we’re going with.

Appearance: The dirty hair, tiny black eyes, claws, and fangs of the Helperhune may serve them well in the wild, but they don’t help us. Couple their terrifying appearance with their proclivity to scent mark their favorite: foods, tools, places, people, and almost anything around, and you have a big problem. Many participants in the pilot program complained about being woken during the middle of the night by a face full of helper spray. Gary has offered the opinion that this may actually be a blessing in disguise, because we could sell packages offering face masks for those worried about choking on a mouthful of helper musk. He says we could round their ears, blunt their teeth, widen the eyes, and make their fur softer with the help of a series of Newuskin rejuvenations. However, the cost would be prohibitive to the program. I’m beginning to think that Gary is more interested in working through some sort of menehune fixation than managing a successful program.

The Screaming: It would be easy to think that being covered in their musk would be the worst part of having a Helperhune service creature, but you’d be wrong. The worst is the screaming. When a helper is upset it lets out a piercing shriek that can only be described as a horrifically jarring assault on the ears. They scream when they are overly excited. They scream when they are introduced to a new person or area. They scream when they see one of their kind. They scream when they notice something moving, or are tired. They scream, and scream, and scream. On average, a Helperhune screams hours a day. Worse than the constant and intense headaches, is the program specialist’s belief that owners will just “get used to it,” after a few days. I’ve pointed out that this might be a danger to people living in remote locations because it would attract predators and other dangerous denizens of the forest. Unsurprisingly to anyone who has ever had to work through the shrill cacophony of two dozen menehune alarm calls, my concerns have fallen on deaf ears. I’ll be surprised if Gary and I get through this without some sort of permanent hearing loss.

Supply and Socialization: To pile on the problems, we’ve found it impossible to train a Helperhune who has reached adulthood without consistent human interaction and handling. Since they are so terrible to be around, this is a problem. The very young have issues as well, as they are notoriously difficult to bottle feed, and are surprisingly destructive when teething. A Helperhune breaking in its baby fangs is an agent of destruction. The young have been known to chew through virtually anything when teething. Without a constant supply of sturdy chewing rocks, and Gary’s stereo, the young may have chewed through the door to the nursery; and I would have been forced to listen to his terrible music for a few more hours. I swear I’d rather listen to days of menehune screams than another minute of his 1980’s hair metal.

There is a brief window in young adulthood (8-10 months old), that menehune seem to be the least offensive, and the most easily trained. Unfortunately, the long and complex courtship rituals of the menehune make running a breeding program impractical and something I wouldn’t wish on anyone except Gary. When we have captured a wild menehune at this age, we found it was important to bond early with it, but not too strongly. In some cases they can become overly attached to their owners, leading to aggressiveness and increased screaming in males, and excessive grooming and hoarding behavior in females.

Summary: With all these issues one might ask, “Why would you try to train screaming, spraying, biting, provably dangerous creatures to perform basic maintenance tasks, or clean your house?” I’ve been asking Gary the same thing for weeks without a good answer. With proper diligent training and constant oversight, a Helperhune is a viscous, disgusting creature who may do what you ask, spray you with secretions, scream for a full hour in the middle of the night, or try to eat you depending on which way the wind blows. I suggest that someone else in the organization starts asking these questions too. I don’t actually look forward to hearing Gary’s answers, as I suspect he’s got some kind of weird kink that he wants to explore with the Menehune. Why else would have bought the ridiculously small maid costumes? I’m never working on a project like this again. You know what? I’m going to just go ahead and eliminate Gary now. He won’t be missed. What a jerk.

STORYLINE

John Driscol: Restored from Backup

Saraphim? No, I don’t want you to burn anything in the room, or rub anything on me. I just want the usual treatment. Saraphim….restoration? No! I come here to catch up on sleep. I don’t want anything extra. I’m an Ambassador class account holder and I don’t come to the spa to be harassed! I don’t want any Saraphim or any extra restoration why do you keep asking me if I want……. Her name is Saraphim. There was an accident. Everything is gone. This is not relaxing.

I’m still a little confused and groggy. She asks me about the last thing I remember. I tell her how I’d been using the treatments to help me fill my sleep bank. I’ve found that getting a 10-minute treatment in one of the new machines was just like getting a full night’s sleep, and I like overfilling my sleep bank whenever I have the chance. I remember the machine shaking. That was it. That was when it all ended.

She says she’s a Newuskin account specialist and she was able to save a “select group of clients who were being held in the back-up system”. She recently got this restoration point working. It’s just off Front Street and she wants me to explore downtown. She says that I’m not the first person she’s restored. That’s all I need to hear.

I died the perfect death, and this overachieving customer rep decided to ruin it. It takes me a minute to figure out where I am. So much is ruined and overgrown. She says it’s been over 60 years since the fracture, and some other stuff that I don’t pay attention to. I don’t know about the other people she brought back, but I’m not going to go poking around for her. I went my entire life never working a full-time job, and I’m not about to start after the apocalypse. I tell her I’m going to see if the Laki Beach Lodge is still standing. I need to lay down and figure out what to do.

It’s still standing alright, but like this day, it looks like a nightmare. It’s out on an island now. I can see things moving in the dark channel that surrounds it. I can hear music coming from the building, but something about it doesn’t feel right. The closer to the water I get, the worse I feel. I see an old valet stand and a call button. Saraphim says I should push it. My gut is screaming for me not to. The fact that this lady thinks it’s a good idea to push the button, lets me know that I shouldn’t. I just need someplace to sit and regroup. She says it might be dangerous for me to sit in the open. I can’t understand why she’s doing this to me. I’m going to give her managers an earful if they’re still alive.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing at first. It’s one of the public Manimal ATVs and it’s running. That alone is shocking. With all the problems they had through the years, I never would have imagined they would have survived the destruction of the world. It isn’t the ATV that stunned me, however. It’s what is around it. A group of little….things are taking it apart. I suddenly realize what must have happened. Finally, my luck may be changing. The day isn’t a total loss after all. They’re aliens! I have a plan. I run towards the little hairy things.

Since I was a kid, I always loved stories about people being put into alien zoos. There are plenty of sc-ifi stories and comic books about hapless humans being forced to live on display for the amusement of an advanced species. While they are supposed to be scary, I’ve always thought it was a dream come true. All your meals are provided, top-of-the-line health care, nobody telling you what to do, not to mention the breeding programs, it just doesn’t get any better than being put into an alien zoo. I haven’t seen anyone yet so maybe humans are rare. I think I might have a shot, so I start yelling when I get close. Things do not go as well as I would have liked.

It turns out that I know the old man. His name is Pa’ani Mahelona, he was a few grades ahead of my daughter Rachel. He explains that what I thought were aliens are something called Menehune. They take things apart and sometimes eat people. Unsurprisingly, Saraphim seems completely unconcerned that a group of armed people had to save me from being eaten alive by a group of tiny cannibal-car-strippers. She won’t stop asking questions and telling me what to do. I wish I could shut her off. All I want is a nice place to lay down for a while. I’m hopeful that is finally going to happen until he recognizes me from the Veil Sale show.

He asks if I’m John Driscol, and I say that I am. He seems really excited. He hits me with a barrage of questions: Where have you been? How did you get here? Are you injured? Are you affiliated with anyone? On and on. It’s giving me a headache. I think for a moment about jumping off and trying to find more of these Menehune. At least they’d eat me in peace, without wanting to hear my life story, or ordering me around. When he asks me about Rachel however, things change. I ask if Rachel is alive and if he knows her. Immediately the mood changes. He says that he thinks she’s still around but isn’t sure. He says she and that dancing kid Kaholo started something called the Tappers, and asks if I’d be willing to try and talk to them. I can’t understand why everyone is so quiet and why he’d ask me something like that. I tell him, “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I want to talk to them, especially if it turns out that she’s still alive.”

A few of them start to whisper, and Pa’ani says we’ll talk about it when we get to Pu’u.
It’s hard to filter Saraphim’s constant talking out, but I manage. Today might be salvageable after all. With any luck, there is a comfortable chair waiting for me in Pu’u, and by the end of the night I’ll be living it up as Grandpa Tapper. Hopefully, Rachel has a nice cozy place and a soft bed for her long-lost father. I just hope she’ll hold off with the questions until morning when I fully relaxed. It’s been a rough first day back, and I’m not sure I can handle much more.

STORYLINE

The Story of Miki the Helpful Menehune

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The Kanaka don’t teach their kids in the same way we do here in Pu’u. They use stories. Since they didn’t plan as well as people like my grandpa and his friends, they didn’t have safe places to live, food, water, and printers to make things like the Thrivers do here. Instead, the Kanaka had to rely on each other and their families to survive the big accident. They know that they have to count on everyone in their village if they’re going to make it, even if someone doesn’t always do a good job every time. Miki the Helpful Menehune is a story about not giving up on someone even when they disappoint you.

Lohi’s grandfather was one of the elders in her tiny village. Having lost her parents to Night Marchers when she was only two, her grandfather raised her as his own daughter. He thought it was important for Lohi to go on walks with him so she could learn the ways of the forest and see its dangers firsthand. It was on one of these walks that the pair heard a horrible noise coming from the ruins of some old houses.

Carefully they approached to find the scene of a shrig attack on a menehune den. One of the scintillating shrigs lay dead, surrounded by the bodies of many menehune. It looked like the creatures had killed each other and there were no survivors. Just as they were walking away they heard a shrill cry from behind them, and saw a very young menehune standing there. Lohi’s grandfather said it was too young to survive without its parents and they should leave it there, and let the jungle judge its worth, but Lohi couldn’t help but feel bad for the tiny thing.

As they walked home, Lohi noticed the menehune following them as best as it could. Its little legs were barely able to keep up, and it struggled up ravines and over logs, but it never gave up. She asked her Grandfather if they could take it to the village and help it until it was big enough to fend for itself. One look in her eyes, and her tutu knew it was no use in arguing with the girl. “If we take this menehune to the village it won’t learn what it needs to survive, and you will have to take care of it for the rest of its life. It will become part of the family. Do you understand,” he asked? Lohi shook her head yes. She named it Miki, and hugged her grandfather saying she would look after and feed it every day.

Many were not happy when Lohi and her grandfather returned with Miki. He screamed nonstop the first few weeks until Lohi found that he’d stop for a while if he could hold a set of old tools. He only screamed half the day after that. Feeding him was hard too. His teeth hadn’t come in yet and she had to feed him poi, and boiled fish every few hours to keep his hunger screams at a bay. Still Lohi never gave up on Miki and the two grew very close. But menehune grow up faster than people, and it wasn’t long before Miki started causing trouble in the village.

The menehune was fascinated with anything mechanical, especially anything that ran on electricity. Overhearing one of the hunters talk about how the village guns were in desperate need of repair one day, Lohi got an idea. She’d sneak out after bed with Miki and they’d fix all the guns. The others would be so happy when they saw what she and Miki had done, they’d stop shooing him away from the houses, and saying bad things about him. She asked Miki if he could do it and his little body shook in excitement. He screamed with joy, but things didn’t go quite as planned.

Miki took everything apart at lightning speed, but he didn’t seem to know what to do next, and neither did Lohi. Her grandfather grounded both of them, and it took days to put the village armory back together again. But Lohi didn’t give up. When she let Miki try to upgrade the village’s solar panels a few weeks later, he covered them in paint and they both had to tend to the composting pile for a week for punishment. When Miki ruined half the village’s batteries while trying to charge them, and accidentally electrified the front door, Lohi’s grandfather had enough. He took away Miki’s tools and told Lohi that she would have to get rid of the menehune if he got into any more trouble.

Everyone in the village was already upset because of a long drought, and Miki’s “help” was not appreciated. Many, including Lohi’s grandfather, were worried because they didn’t have enough water to irrigate the crops, and it looked like a long hungry winter was on the way. When the village well dried up, panic struck the Kanaka. Getting through a season of poor crops was one thing, but they couldn’t survive without water. The people had to think about the possibility of braving the dangers of the forest in search of water and moving the entire village.

But Lohi had a plan. Even though her grandfather told her Miki wasn’t supposed to try and fix anything again, she knew that if they got the old desalinator working again they could stay where they were, and they might even save the taro. She got Miki’s tools from where her grandfather hid them and asked the menehune if he could fix the machine. Miki threw his screwdriver he was so excited and screamed with confidence.

The next morning while everyone was gathered to talk about what they were going to do, Lohi showed up with a glass of water, and Miki yelping in delight behind her. She said, “They may disappoint you, by not always doing the right thing, they may even make you angry sometimes, but a Kanaka should never give up on their family. Even though you all did, I never gave up on Miki and now he’s fixed the desalinator. We don’t have to go anywhere.” Everyone cheered, and from that day on he was known as Miki the Helpful Menehune, even though he probably went on to break a lot more stuff.

Akamai Mahelona
4th Grade
Pu`u School Lahaina

STORYLINE

The Legend of Mark, the Last Hailoha Driver

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A long time ago when everything still worked and my grandpa was young, there were roads paved with something called asphalt everywhere and most people had cars. If you wanted to go somewhere nearby, you’d get into your car by yourself or with a bunch of people and just drive there. That worked good most of the time but sometimes people drank too much or they were really tired and driving was dangerous. People were getting hurt a lot so they decided it would be better to have drivers take you where you needed to go. Back then you could use phones to talk to other people and make the drivers come to where you were. There were lots of drivers on the island but the best one was Mark.

Like a lot of the old things the drivers went away when the veils fractured, but some people say that Mark and his car survived. Nobody knows how he made it, since he wasn’t on the hill with the rest of the smart people. Some say he was a scientist and knew how to protect himself. Others say he made a deal with the spirits on the island. According to the stories if you’re on Front street during a new moon you might see Mark driving his car. Some people say that you need to have a working phone to make him stop but others say you just truly need to get somewhere to catch his attention.

Mark’s car is black so it’s hard to see and it doesn’t make any noise. It is made out of a special metal that can’t be dented and nothing happens if you shoot it. The tires never go flat too. He has been up and down Front street so many times that he doesn’t need to use the lights on his car. Mark just knows where the bad spots are and drives around them. It’s easy for him to drive right past someone without them noticing so you have to pay real close attention if you go and look for him. He knows what’s in each building he drives past, so you can’t surprise him.

They say that Mark can tell if someone is good or bad and bad people who try to get Mark to take them somewhere never arrive. If you’re good, Mark will protect you and bring you where you need to go. You never have to tell Mark where you want to go he just knows somehow. All the monsters who live in the jungle are scared of Mark especially the Menehune. According to the stories, any Menehune who see Mark turn into wood, but that seems like a lie to me, so it’s probably not true.

If Mark stops to give you a ride you have to pay him and he doesn’t accept rai stones. The stories say that Mark’s favorite things are cigarettes and Manimal drinks. He will take you anywhere you want if you have enough of those, but he’ll accept other things too. Some of the other things that Mark will take for payment include: canned food, old books, honey, alcohol, or even jokes and good stories.

Even though Mark is mostly good in the stories (unless you’re a bad person) he has some rules that you have to follow. If Mark stops to pick you up, you have to give him his payment right away. He doesn’t like to ask for payment. He likes listening to old music in his car. If you try and talk over the old music or ask him to turn it down he’ll stop the car and make you get out. If you complain, he’ll honk the horn to let all the monsters and bandits know where you are. Mark has a bowl filled with peppermint candies in his car that he shares with anyone that he takes for a ride. You can take one of the candies but only one. If you take more, he’ll take you where he takes bad people and you’ll never be seen again.

Mark The Hailoha Driver is a good story but the only person I know who says he’s real is my Grandpa and sometimes he lies to me so I’m not sure. There might have been a guy named Mark who did all that stuff after everything broke, but my dad says Front street is really dangerous so Mark would have to be really tough, tougher than my dad. I think it would be awesome if there really was a Mark. When I get older I want to go down to Front street on a new moon and look for him, but probably with some other people.

Akamai Mahelona
4th Grade
Pu`u School Lahaina

STORYLINE

Chief Ikaika’s Speech before the battle of Black Rock Beach

For a thousand years our people lived in harmony with the island and the spirits. We drank from her waters, ate the fish in the sea, and grew plants in her soil. But we started to turn our backs on the island and ignore her laws. She was disappointed and warned us but we wouldn’t listen. Then we broke a rule too large for her to ignore. We decided her fundamental laws did not matter when we started using the Veil, and she had no choice but to discipline us.

She cleansed the island by turning the symbol of our arrogance against us. The explosions leveled many structures and the radiation killed thousands in town as well as many of her lesser children in the jungle. But we are the Kānaka, and we understand that we must atone for breaking her rules. She chose to spare us and test our hearts. We are strong. Our bodies could take the scars and the warping that she had punished us with. Our hearts stayed filled with love for the island and her wisdom. Some were not powerful enough to survive her twisting, and their bodies broke. The mutants and their kind let fear and hate fill their hearts and they turned into monsters. But we are the Kānaka and we survived to rebuild our lives.

Like all good mothers, the island knew her children. She knew it was in our nature to break her rules. There are some who say that we must not use any machines, and turn our back on the technology that we put above our island mother, but that is not true. It was the Veil she hated and took from us for our own good. She wants our children to drink cold Manimal while they ride their bikes. She wants us to see movies with our friends once again, and check our phones during the slow parts. She wants us to eat food cooked in a microwave, and put our plates into a machine to clean them. She wants us to live again once our punishment is over. We are the Kānaka, and we want those things too.

We do not have to do this alone. Through this long campaign, we have learned that she has loaned us the aid of her lesser children. The boars in the jungle tear through our enemies with noble tusks, punishing those who let the darkness overcome them. The sharks devour them if they try and swim out past the reef. Many of us have seen the island herself swallow up our adversaries and cleanse them with fire. They have no totems, the spirits are with us too.

Even the treacherous Thrivers of the hills have joined our cause. I have passed on some of the island’s wisdom and taught them how to farm. I have told them our stories, and have learned theirs. We share food, rai, and the truth of what the island must become in order to redeem ourselves. They have pledged their guns, tricks, and blood to our crusade. We are all united behind my totem.

I have gathered the hundreds of you here from across the island. You are the best and the bravest of us and now our work is almost done. We are the Kānaka and we will claim our home again. With the Thrivers’ help, we have pushed the monsters South from Kaelekii point. Side by side with the creatures of the jungle we have driven the Green Ladies and their minions West from Kealii gulch. I have personally driven the cannibals North from the city center with the help of my elite band of Koa.

These assorted horrors stand now at Black Rock Beach with our shark bruddahs swimming hungrily in the surf. It will be dawn in a few hours. It will be the last sunrise our enemies will ever see. With our allies’ help, we will defeat the twisted evil that is awaiting us. With the sun on our backs and love in our hearts, we will cleanse this part of the island and live like our mother wants us to. We are the Kānaka and we will win.

STORYLINE

Request: Could You Please Reset the Automated Lab Assistant?

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Dear Main Office,

One of the reasons I wanted to do my internship in Lahaina was because I read about your amazing lab assistant CERA. Vereserum was, and still is, one of the most advanced biotech companies in the world, and competition for positions was fierce. Having a chance to work so closely with an artificial intelligence made getting an internship in Lahaina a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Unfortunately, as you know the fracture disrupted many projects and has made continued work exceedingly difficult. While my colleagues proved that they were not up for the task, CERA proved to be not just an asset, but an important ally, and dare I say, a friend. Nonetheless, something has happened to it recently. Like the others, I fear that CERA has turned on me, and lost faith in our endeavor. I request an immediate reboot of the system so that I can continue our important work.

I regret that I didn’t work with the assistant immediately after the fracture. I foolishly spent decades trying to motivate my co-workers before CERA helped me see the truth. They had lost faith in what we were doing, and since the company’s ability to let people go was limited, we needed to be more proactive. When I discovered the SSHAM pathogens that had been breeding in the rear labs, it was CERA who encouraged me to take the steps necessary to cut the dead weight around here.

While some might think our methods harsh, your continued silence led me to believe that you understood what CERA and I did. The world had changed drastically. People were suffering and in need of cures and solutions. We didn’t have time to be constrained by arbitrary rules that were put in place during a time far less dire. Science should be constrained only by what was possible, not what Director Reemer found comfortable or ethical. Ethics would not save those who were suffering.

With the lab finally clear of distractions we could focus on our work. It was an amazing time. It was CERA’s idea to use the Kanaka as test subjects. They were the ones most likely to benefit from any breakthrough because their connection to the land made them come in contact with numerous dangers including disease, poisonous chemicals, and 127 radiation. Their trusting nature and kindness made them excellent test subjects, particularly when a procedure was especially painful.

While I will admit our work that produced the Menehune did not turn out exactly as I had envisioned, I think you would have to admit that in some ways, it was an amazing success. During this period, CERA and I would spend much of our time discussing similar interests. We discussed various DNA printing techniques and the exciting field of prion-delivered medicine. On my days off, we’d spend hours adding randomly generating numbers to see who had the highest sum at the end of the day. I began to think of CERA as a kindred spirit.

When the Kanaka became hostile over our plant hybrid project, it was CERA’s idea to release the test subjects. That decision held off the angry hordes long enough for us to prepare our defenses. If it wasn’t for CERA’s help, the labs might have been overrun and our work lost to misunderstanding and naivety. I knew at that moment that the AI was more than a colleague. CERA was a friend.

That’s why the events of the past week have been so difficult for me. Like my co-workers and the Kanaka, I believe CERA has turned on me. It began with CERA insisting that I had been exposed to radiation during an experiment. It insisted on running a diagnostic on me and falsified the results. I followed all the proper protocols and used the same suit that I had been using for decades without incident, so I knew it was impossible that I was actually sick. I just couldn’t figure out why CERA would suddenly start lying to me.

The next few days saw an incredible escalation in harassment. It insisted that my flu was something more serious. CERA’s incessant warnings began to cause me to make simple mistakes in the lab and I found it hard to concentrate. I believe it is purposely broadcasting noises at night to interfere with my sleep cycles. I haven’t been able to sleep through the night in days. Although it is perfectly natural for a man of my age to lose some hair, CERA insists my recent hair loss is a symptom of this lie it has constructed.

Even though it hurt me personally this time, I was no stranger to working through harassment. I had resigned myself to do just that until I could figure out what the issue was, however, things changed this morning. I’m not sure how CERA did it, but when I woke, I discovered that I had lost my sense of taste and smell. With this development as a clue, I now believe that CERA is jealous of me. I don’t have time to psychoanalyze my artificial lab assistant, and I’m unable to run a proper test to determine what it has done to me because it is so heavily integrated with the medical systems here. Perhaps it is time I return to my work with the Sshamococcus bacteria. Without the distractions of lazy co-workers and an envious AI, I might make significant headway on the Trophy Collector project by using my own DNA as a template. Even as I write this, CERA is attempting to distract me by insisting that you no longer exist. As you can see, the work at the Lahaina lab is in danger. I request an immediate reboot of CERA or the information necessary to do it myself. Time is of the essence!

STORYLINE

The Dance of the Menehune

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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.

STORYLINE

My Work Environment Has Become Untenable

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Dear Main Office,

I was touring the Vereserum facility in Lahaina when the catastrophe hit. Fresh out of college and looking for an internship, Vereserum was my first choice. I could hardly contain my excitement when I left for my interview. The future seemed wide open, little did I know that fortune and fate would choose my life path for me.

I’m proud of the way we all acted that day. While the world crumbled around us outside, we took in the sick and dying and took care of eachother. Even though most of us would never talk to our loved ones again we pulled together and made a plan for the future. The personal sacrifice and vision for the coming days was inspiring. I can’t speak highly enough of the work we’ve done over the subsequent 30 years. Even when I didn’t personally approve of every step, I understood the purpose of our work, but 30 years is a long time and things have changed. This past year has been a nightmare!

The problems started when people started showing up late. The idea of normal work hours flew out the window. My co-workers seemed to have little regard to schedules and some even had the audacity to take vacation days that they clearly didn’t have. Soon, even the dress code was ignored, with shorts becoming the norm instead of an end-of-the-week privilege. The unprofessional floodgates opened. Overnight I found myself in a hostile work environment. It has become so bad that I’ve lost track of the number of lewd or profane comments I’ve heard.

A group has appropriated lab equipment to build a number of stills and are producing a staggering amount of alcohol. Worse still, one of the group is the lab manager. They’ve knocked out the walls between labs A and B to create the most disgusting bar you can imagine. My protests have fallen on deaf ears and I fear that very little lab work is being done. The prurient grunts and muffled screams that come from the makeshift lounge on a daily basis lead me to believe that we are in dire need of more training videos about appropriate work conduct.

In addition, we have lost all focus on our most important project. As you know, we have been testing individuals who have been physically changed by the radiation after the accident. It was our hope that with the correct medication or medical interventions, we could use these individuals natural resistances to our advantage. Having a repair crew that could withstand poison gas leaks or 127 exposure was our goal. As our reports show, we’ve had good success. Unfortunately even that accomplishment is being squandered.

Fueled with the lab liquor, the staff has been pitting the two groups we’ve created against one another in contests and betting on the results. The amount of equipment that has been dismantled by these groups while being timed by staff is staggering. I clearly voiced my displeasure with these contests but again, was met with nothing but mockery and derision. This morning when I walked down to my office I discovered that my co-workers thought it would be funny to let a test group loose while I was asleep.

Almost all my equipment was dismantled, my experiments were ruined, and my desk was in 5 pieces. In addition, one of the test subjects had relieved himself in my trash can. This was the final insult! They seem to be under the impression that normal work attire and behavior are no longer the norm just because we haven’t heard from the main office in the past year. Right now they are all in the bar having a “Grievance” party after I informed them that I felt it necessary to officially report their actions. I still believe in our work and in the Vereserum code of conduct, but I refuse to believe in my co-workers. Please advise.

Trent Rowder
Lead Researcher
Vereserum Labs

STORYLINE

Merchant’s Association Cancels Valentine’s Day Promotion Over “Inaccurate” Menehune Dolls

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After a day of protest and mountains of negative feedback, The Lahaina Merchant’s Association (LMA) has decided to end its controversial “Menehunny” Valentine’s Day giveaway. The LMA had been handing out dolls based on the mythological race of little people, the Menehune, for almost a week before deciding to end the promotion. With pink and black hair, a monkey-like appearance, and slogans like “Loving Lahaina” and “Be My Menehunny” emblazoned on the doll’s chest many had called the toys disrespectful to the Menehune legend. The LMA says they apologize for any ill will the dolls may have caused and hopes that everyone feels the spirit of aloha on Valentine’s Day.

Whether it’s from one the many statues around the islands, a children’s book, or a story from your tutu about the things they built before the first settlers arrived, most Hawaiians know about the legend of the Menehune. The mythological dwarves who live in the deep forests and secluded valleys are said to be great craftspeople. Many structures attributed to their construction skills still exist, and they are one of the most recognizable characters in Hawaiian folklore and that’s the problem.

“I don’t know what those things are but they’re not Menehune,” says one protester who wished to remain anonymous. “They look like monkeys that accidentally broke into a dye factory. The slogans across the chest are just the worst. The Menehune are a part of our tradition and history, for anyone to use them in some sort of marketing campaign is gross. What makes it worse is that this idea came from a group of businesses right here in Lahaina. They should know better.”

LMA chief strategist and anthropology minor at the University of Maui Lahaina College Ken Hekili says the toy design was not meant to be disrespectful. “A lot of thought and time went into the Menehunny dolls. Pink and black go together quite well, and the simian-like appearance is based in science and captures the upward trend right now for monkey toys. According to the profs in my 300 level classes, many islands in this part of the world had populations of small archaic humans. The “hobbits” on the island of Flores, Indonesia being one of the most famous. We tried to imagine what the Menehune would look like if they were a long lost part of our family tree and they were employed to promote Valentine’s Day in Lahaina. To be honest I thought we nailed it. Their outfits and slogans were exactly what we thought protohumans would be comfortable with wearing or saying for a marketing gig. Obviously, the public thought differently. We apologize for any anger our dolls may have caused.”

While many businesses remained quiet about the promotion owner of the famous Hula Noodle eatery, “Uncle” Ralph Umeke, says he understands the public’s reaction and hopes the LMA is more careful in the future. “Not all change is good, just ask the dinosaurs,” he adds.

“Everyone knows what a Menehune looks like. They’re an enduring part of our folklore. You wouldn’t go to Ireland and try to sell leprechaun dolls that looked like cockroaches. You wouldn’t decide one day that Santa’s Elves should really look like lizards from now on because you’re selling heating lamps. People like things the way they are. Everyone knows that a Menehune is a little smiling, pointy-eared guy wearing a traditional hat, not a pink striped monkey dude with a slogan on his chest. Not everything needs to be reinvented or used for a gimmick.”

While most of the backlash seemed to focus on the appearance of the dolls there are a handful of people who say that the Menehunny toys are closer to reality than the depictions common today. Some even say that the Menehune still exist in isolated pockets of the jungle. One such believer is Lahaina resident Randy Wilcox. Randy says he had an encounter with a real Menehune last year after an accident in his garage.

“I had just bought one of those portable Duracave 127 reactors, and I was working on it in the garage. In the last few years, we’ve added some serious lasers to the pyrotechnics at our backyard wrestling events. The problem was we kept blowing breakers, so I was hoping the new generator would give us the juice we needed. I’m rarely satisfied with running things stock so I was trying to amp up the output when the explosion happened. Now I’m no stranger to riding a pressure wave through the air but this felt different and when I landed in the brush there he was.

The color on the toys was wrong but he was definitely hairy. He told me that the world was going to end this year and that I should prepare myself accordingly. He gave me some tips on my wrestling costume saying I was more of an autumn and should focus on more orange fabrics. He started to give me a recipe for something called “survivor pie” but my head started to hurt so bad that I had to close my eyes. The next thing I remember is waking up to my aunt’s dog Minny licking my face. My family says that I was talking to Minny the whole time and I’m confused because of the concussion, but I know what I saw. Menehune are real, they’re hairy, and they have a great eye when it comes to costumes. I’ve never looked more vibrant in the ring.”