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

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

I’m In Dire Need of New Staff and Supplies

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Dear Main Office,
I won’t beat around the bush. Things here are grim and I am in dire need of food and equipment. My replacement Kānaka assistants have turned on me and for the first time in 37 years I’m worried that our important work might not continue. I haven’t received any out-of-office messages from you, so I assume that your continued silence due to the difficulty in running a multinational corporation without utilities. I have diligently continued my work, but I’ve reached a point of no return I fear. Without new hires, some clean lab glassware, and a viable source of fresh water, I’m afraid I’ll have to shutdown the Lahaina facility.

I’ve done my best to keep the place tidy but it has been a losing battle. As I mentioned previously, my former co-workers lost focus and became a huge impediment to what we are trying to accomplish here. A mere 29 years into the process, they decided that building a lounge and distilling alcohol was more important than our goals. As you know I took the issue into my own hands so to speak and cleaned house. However, they had done quite a bit of damage and left a huge mess. It’s been 2,550 days since any of the facilities team has shown up for work. The place is starting to look and smell like a pigsty. Normally I would just find some local hands to scrub the walls but my relations with them have become strained. Could you please send someone with a good supply of cleaning products?

While my work has seen some great progress, the plant hybrid project has been a failure so far. With food acquisition becoming a daily obstacle, I began to wonder if there was a more efficient way to fulfill a person’s dietary needs. I began to take plants already rich in minerals and fortifying them further with a wide range of vitamins. I tried incorporating some of the chloroplasts from some of these plants directly into the subjects to see if that could augment or replace a kanaka’s bodies daily demand for vitamins and minerals. Unfortunately, all of the Kānaka women I’ve integrated with the hybrid plant exons suffered radical changes that made them half unwilling participants, half angry flowers. They turned out to be exceedingly dangerous as well, so I was forced to release the majority of them into the forest.

To cut to the point, I need a few more assistants around here. In addition to all the other problems I’ve weathered, there is a storm brewing among the locals and there is no doubt that it is headed my way. Since we ran out of stem cells, I’ve been forced to find ways to harvest them myself. At first I had no problem finding willing subjects, but lacking the proper equipment the process was quite painful. Soon word spread among the Kānaka and they stopped volunteering. Knowing that progress is bigger than individual feelings, I continued harvesting what I needed in order to advance my research. You wouldn’t believe how angry they got after I explained why drugging them and piercing a needle through their thigh bones was necessary to make the world a better place.

Then we had the incident with the plant subjects I mentioned above. The group I released descended on a local village and drained the fluids from a number of individuals before they were driven off. It turns out that the Kānaka hold family ties in even higher regard than their stem cells. A angry mob came here in the early morning hours carrying torches and various nasty looking implements of destruction. They screamed and yelled and eventually tried to break into the facility. I tried using the resolution skills that I learned in our training videos but they were ineffective. They seemed hung up on the whole stem cell misunderstanding and accusing me of unleashing a wave of monsters on their village. Every time I tried to change the subject they just got more furious.

Eventually I came to the conclusion that they were not interested in having a rational conversation. I could see by their repeated attempts to break down the doors that they couldn’t be reasoned with, so I opened a window above the entrance and sprayed a particularly strong protein destabilizer on a few of them. The ones who weren’t breaking down in front of the doors scattered and screamed at me like I was the one who was wrong in the situation. Worse yet, the spray ruined any potentially useful stem cells, so the whole encounter was a waste. It’s just a matter of time before they come back and my supply of destabilizer is limited. In addition to more lab assistants could you also send one of corporate’s conflict resolution experts? I’d like to work out my issues with the locals before things get too out of hand.

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

Researcher’s Journal Details Progress of SSHAM Plague at Lahaina Facility

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March 3, 2082– It’s been 5 months since I sent a detailed list of my co-workers infractions to the corporate office. Their unprofessional attitude and lack of drive continue despite my best efforts. They routinely verbally abuse me and deride my continued dedication to our work. They continue to operate the lounge they created and are more interested in drinking the foul liquor produced from their still. I worry that the main office is swamped with problems from other facilities and don’t fully appreciate how bad the work environment here has become. At least the remaining maintenance crew still make a half-hearted effort to keep the place clean before leaving for the day to collect coconuts.

March 4, 2082– Everyone has their own way of passing time here. I prefer to immerse myself in my work, while my co-workers drink themselves into oblivion and devise new ways to torment me. The facilities staff on the other hand go on extended coconut hunts. They spend at least 8 hours a day putting coconuts in their maintenance bags. While I appreciate the contribution to the food stores, their trips have become quite wide ranging. I’ve expressed concerns about their safety but Reynolds has assured me it’s good for their morale. Whoever collects the biggest coconut gets the day off. Perhaps my co-workers would be more motivated if I could turn their work into a contest.

March 6, 2082– The maintenance guys had a big surprise for me today. They were finally able to open the security doors to the rear labs. A combination of fried electronics and rubble have kept us from accessing these areas since the fracture. I ask them not to mention it to anyone else. If the labs are operational I might finally have a sanctuary free from distractions. The crew begins to go through systems and make a list of what needs repair. Reynolds pitches in as well even though it’s his day off. For the first time in quite a while I feel good about my future here.

March 11, 2082– It took me a while to figure out what had infected the crew, and my findings are startling. They were exposed to a cloud of brownish particulates with a strong smell when restarting the biofilters in one of the newly available labs. It appears someone had put a large piece of SSHAM where the filter cartridge is supposed to go. Although I am still unsure of how exactly it happened, it appears that a virulent strain of bacteria had been growing inside the canned meat filter for the past 30 years unabated. The extent to which the radiation produced by the fracture shaped the bacteria’s growth is anyone’s guess. The effects on the crew were rapid and resembled some of the same physical changes that were common in others a few months after the fracture. I decided it was best to keep them locked in the contaminated room.

March 28, 2082– It’s been over two weeks since I locked the facilities crew in their lab. Their physical and mental changes continue. Their teeth have become much more robust and their arms and legs have grown. They have taken a hunched over posture and have a shuffling gait. They are no longer capable of complex communication, resorting to occasional grunts and hand gestures. My co-workers are oblivious and completely focused on their diversions, allowing me time to study the crew’s transformation.

March 30, 2082– There have been no further physical changes in the crew. It appears that some rudimentary memories remain in the subjects. If provided with their collection bags and coconuts, they will fight over the largest with the winner going to sleep in a corner while the rest shuffle around the room. They will pantomime certain everyday grooming activities when provided tools ie. brushing teeth, combing hair. They can be made to follow simple commands if I reward them with meat. I wonder if their cognitive functions will continue to erode?

March 31, 2082– My co-workers have crossed a serious line today. Still ignorant of the fate of the facilities crew and my studies, they raided my office again. They claim that they thought I had left since they “hadn’t heard me complain in a few days”. They spilled some sort of liquid over much of my equipment, ruining it. They took my furniture to replace the disgusting lounge furnishings. However, it was the stealing of my ration of coffee for use in their quest to make coffee moonshine that is the last straw. I realize now that I would be better off without them.

April 7, 2082– Even though their training had only lasted a week I believed the subjects were ready. I had been showing them my co-workers badges, saying “coconuts” loudly and rewarding them with meat once they reached an appropriate level of excitement. I will admit that I was still unsure what they would do once I gave them their bags and let them loose. They exceeded all my expectations. From the safety of the control room, I unlocked the doors and said, “coconuts” over the intercom. I watched them put the bags over their shoulders and shuffle down the hall to the stairs leading to the upper levels. The cameras no longer work in that area of the building, so I could only hear the conflict upstairs. Even though the attack was quite loud with ample screaming, it was over much more quickly than I imagined, no doubt due to my co-workers intoxication. All but one of the subjects returned to their room soon after with their gory trophies. By the way Reynolds curled up in the corner, it appears Dr. Reemer had the biggest head. I will have to measure for myself once the subjects have been sedated. The trail leading from the stairs to their room is quite distinct, so the upper levels must be a mess. I wonder if I can train them to mop up blood?

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