STORYLINE

Hugh The Hunter Part II

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She says the world ended, that the veils fractured and almost everything is gone. She’s in my head. She tells me her name is Saraphim but I can’t remember mine. I can only remember bits. I ask her who, and where I am. She explains that I was backed up, and she is restoring me, like I’m supposed to know what that means. My restorer says she doesn’t know my name either, I’m HU-3501 in the system, and there was some degradation. She wants me to report any problems I have once I’m out of the chair.

I can finally see. I’m in the Wellness Center. I remember my boss giving us certificates for Christmas but can’t recall her name or where I worked. I step out of the machine but there’s no clothes. Saraphim directs me to a locker that is supposed to be filled with complimentary clothing. I see a problem immediately. There’s nothing in here but flowered shirts, those weird looking fishing hats, and cargo pants. I tell her I find it hard to believe that she has the technology to rebuild someone from scratch, but can’t come up with clothing that doesn’t make me look like a 1980’s tourist. She says that there aren’t many survivors, but they all wear stuff like this now. I get dressed and go outside. I don’t believe what I see.

It’s all gone. Everything is in ruin. Saraphim tries to keep me calm, and tells me I need to go out and tell her what I see. I try to remember where home is. I feel like it’s close, but everything is like snapshots of a movie. She starts talking again about degradation, and something about my parietal lobe. I stop listening because coming up the street is a group of about a dozen people. The first thing I notice is that none of them are wearing flowered shirts or floppy hats, contrary to what I was told. Next, I notice how big they are, and that none of them are smiling. They’re all carrying weapons and the biggest one looks at me, yells something, and raises a huge shark-toothed club above his head. I assume I won’t want to hear whatever it is they are going to tell me, and I sprint towards the ruins in front of me. Then, things get crazy.

I hit something with my shin as I start to jump onto a piece of concrete, and there is an explosion behind me. I feel the hot air lift me up, and I land on a piece of flooring jutting out between the second and third floor. I turn around and see another group of people, also not wearing flowered shirts, scrambling out of the rubble around me. My head is ringing. They start climbing. One has an old rusted pistol and takes a shot at me. I see an opening in the adjoining building, and try to make the leap to get away. As I start to push off the ledge, the whole thing comes crashing down. Somehow, I stay upright, and the debris covers up the people who were hiding in the rubble. I’m in shock about what just happened, and that I’m still standing. Their cheers bring me to my senses. Before I know it, I’m surrounded, getting slaps on my back, and big hugs. It’s like I had just won the lava sledding championships for the Blue Wolves. I try to ask who they are, but nothing comes out. I don’t understand everything they’re saying either, but they’re all smiling now. Saraphim says she’ll keep working on it, but my condition might be permanent. They motion for me to follow, and since they are the first people I’ve met who haven’t tried to kill me, I go with them. The big one with the club says his name is Kanaka.

It turns out that the whole group is called the Kanaka, not just the big guy. Their village is amazing. It’s set along the ocean and has everything you need. The one thing that I can’t find no matter how hard I look, is anyone wearing one of these stupid hats. I soon realize that we won’t be able to communicate with words. With Saraphim’s help I manage to scribble my number, HU-3501, in the sand to see if anyone knows what it is. Nobody does, but they all start calling me Hugh.

They seem to think that I’m some sort of avenging spirit, and I do absolutely nothing to convince them otherwise. We spend days practicing with spears, machetes, and clubs. They have a couple shotguns too, but we don’t use them. I assume ammo is hard to come by. Maybe it’s something about my new implant, but I feel like I’m getting pretty good with a machete after only a few days. Everyone treats me with reverence and respect. I have all the poke and pineapple I can eat, and I get to play with weapons in the surf whenever I want. I can’t fully remember what I used to do, but I’m sure it was nowhere near as cool as this. However, nothing lasts forever and about a week into my new awesome life, a group of well armed people arrive.

Things are tense between the Kanaka and these new people for a few minutes. I think they might be what’s left of the military but they’re not wearing uniforms, or anything that remotely resemble my tourist clothing. They’re all very well armed. Maybe they’re a bunch of preppers. I guess my crazy cousin Ted was right after all. I wonder how many years of liquor he had stored up in his Duracave bunker when civilization collapsed, just like he always knew it would. They want help with something, and my friends agree. Everyone grabs some gear, and they hand me a machete before we head out into the forest.

We end up at a big building that looks like a Halloween nightmare. There’s skulls everywhere outside. Some whispering and pointing begins. I’m not sure what there is to talk about. We better not be….of course we’re going inside. Why wouldn’t we? I feel like we’re the group in the horror movie who decides to go investigate the basement when we should clearly just go home. The inside is worse. There’s heads mounted on the walls, it’s dark, and I can’t think of one good reason why we should be in here. Then monsters come running towards us, honest to god, real monsters. Gunfire starts and the Kanaka start hacking away. I look at the stairs to the left, and run up. I’ve only been back a little over a week, and there is no way that I’m going to get killed fighting monsters this soon.

I find a nice desk to hide under with a view below. My buddies are really slicing through them, and the people with guns are mowing them down almost as fast as the monsters are springing up, almost. Pretty soon they are surrounded, and start pulling back. I stand up to meet the team at the bottom of the stairs, when I see a really big creature knock a desk in front of the door, and block the Kanaka’s exit. I can see they’re scared. That makes me scared. If this thing kills them, I’ll be trapped in here. I think about how good I’ve gotten with my machete, and ask Saraphim if she could bring me back again if something were to happen to me.

She says she probably could, but advises against doing anything stupid. I tell her stupid choices are the only ones I have right now. I jump from my hiding spot with the machete above my head. I swing down as hard as I can when I land, and it almost takes the things leg off. I tumble in front of it, and scramble to my feet facing my friends. The look of amazement on their faces is priceless. I give them a thumbs up, and turn around to look at my handiwork. The last thing I remember is seeing the thing lurch up on its ruined leg, grab my head and twist.

It was not a painless death. Saraphim is not happy with my decision. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to get the materials to bring you back? These bodies aren’t exactly easy to make.” I get out of the machine and start getting dressed. I guess the flowered shirts aren’t that bad. Besides, it’s like my costume now. I can’t wait to see what they’re going to do when Hugh The Hunter returns from the dead. I start walking back to the village, and Saraphim says, “Please, try a little harder to not lose your head this time.”

STORYLINE

Hugh The Hunter Part I

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There are many legends on the island and many mysterious events every day, but one of the most recent is the appearance of strangers dressed in the clothing of the old. The Kanaka have come to call them “The Tourists,” because of their brightly colored shirts and their large old-style hats. Many of my people believe that they are the spirits of those lost in the great fracture, returned to help the brave and warn the trustworthy of danger. However, I now suspect their presence has a much more technological basis than a mystical one.

The Kanaka had no stories of The Tourists and I personally did not believe the reports until a group of hunters in my village brought one back. We call him Hugh, and many of our bravest owe their lives to his reckless courage. We still know little about his life before, or where he comes from, but he has become an important ally and guardian of my village.

For weeks we had heard the stories. Strangers with strange clothing were appearing across the island. While there are few pleasant surprises anymore, stories of encounters with the Tourists were wonderful. Tales of their courage and deeds spread quickly. Kanaka talked of Tourists emerging from the forest and shooting enemies. A village to the North claimed that one jumped from a hill to attack a herd of boars, who were menacing a group of children collecting shells. There was even a tale of a Tourist who took up residence with a group of Thrivers and made items from the days of old.

It is with these stories fresh in their minds that our hunters went out one day to look for supplies. They planned on targeting the area around the old wellness center, because of the many untouched buildings buried in the rubble. When they arrived, they got quite a shock. Standing in front of the center was a man in a flowered shirt, wearing a bucket hat, with a bag across his shoulder. It was a Tourist.

The hunters stopped and called out. They raised their weapons above their heads and shouted a greeting, as is our custom. Instead of shouting back a greeting, the Tourist ran quickly to a collapsed building to the North. At first, the hunters were confused, this did not appear to be one of the brave and mystical warriors of the past they had heard about. Then the explosions went off.

They had almost walked into a bandit trap, but the Tourist had tripped the mines hidden alongside the road. He jumped just at the right time, and the force of the detonation lifted him up onto a piece of flooring jutting out of the side of the building. The bandits poured out like angry ants and tried to scramble up towards the colorfully dressed man above them. The Tourist walked to the edge of the flooring and the whole thing came down. He rode the wave of debris like he was Layla Kalani herself, drowning the bandits in rubble and exposing an opening in the building.

For a few seconds, nobody moved or said a thing. The Tourist brushed off his clothing and looked at the Kanaka who began to cheer. It was one of the most amazing things they had ever seen. Not only had the stranger saved them from an ambush, he had done it without a weapon, and had opened a way into a building that had been buried since the fracture. The stories about the Tourists were true!

He was unable to speak but seemed to understand us. The only communication he was capable of was scribbling, “HU-3501” in the sand. We called him Hugh. The elders debated what his scribblings meant as the hunters tried to learn what they could from him, but Hugh was clever. He pretended to know nothing about fighting. Like all great teachers, he let his students show him what they knew by teaching him.

So it went for almost a week, when a group of Thriver guards came to the village and announced that they had found Mea ‘ohi, the great trophy collector, using the old train station as a lair. For decades the King of the trophy collectors and his court had terrorized the island and collected the heads of many. In addition to his remarkable strength, Mea ‘ohi was very cunning for his kind and never stayed in one place for long. While it was extremely dangerous, the Thrivers thought that together we had a chance to finally rid the island of the horror of the great collector, and avenge all those he had killed. We looked at Hugh and knew we had more than a good chance with his help. Our best hunters and Hugh gathered weapons and set off with the Thriver guards.

The hunters could tell right away that the Thrivers were right. Skulls littered the steps leading into the station. Inside the walls were adorned with heads of all types. Bear, boar, wolf, and shrig were mixed in amongst the human head decorations. The inside of the station had been rearranged. Chest-high barricades of tables, desks, and chairs filled the lobby. A pair of trophy collectors rushed forward towards the group incredibly fast. The Thrivers got off what shots they could before the Kanaka engaged the monstrosities, while Hugh ran up the stairs.

The hunters dispatched one of their opponents quickly and gave chase to the other, with the Thrivers covering their back. More monsters poured in and the fighting became fierce. Teeth and claws tearing, as clubs swung and bullets rained out. Soon there were so many that even the Thrivers were forced to fight hand to hand. The hunter’s weapons were covered in the vile blood of the beasts, and their arms began to burn, but still, the creatures came, and Hugh was nowhere in sight. The Thrivers screamed that they should pull back and the hunters begrudgingly agreed, but as they tried to make their way, Mea ‘ohi finally appeared.

The hulking terror knocked over a wall of tables by the doors and stood before the remaining heroes. His cracked lips curled into a huge toothy grin knowing that the hunters were trapped inside, and he would soon have more decorations. At that moment, the Thrivers and hunters knew that they would never see their homes again. They had underestimated the creature. It was over. Just as the last of their hope was draining from them, they saw something miraculous. It was Hugh.

He lept from the floor above, digging his machete deep into Mea ‘ohi’s thigh, and tumbled as he hit the floor. The beast fell to his knees behind him, and Hugh sprung to his feet smiling. The other trophy hunters screamed and ran into the depths of the station. Hugh turned just in time to see the monster reach out. Mea ‘ohi grabbed him, and twisted off his head in one quick motion, screaming in fury and pain. Hugh’s sacrifice rallied the heroes. They could not let him die in vain. The Thrivers filled the beast’s chest with bullets and the Kanaka surged forward finishing him off.

Hugh had saved them again, even though it cost him his life. The group decided to leave before the rest of the creatures regrouped, but took Mea ‘ohi’s head as a trophy of their own. The Thrivers thanked the hunters for their help and left to return to their outpost.

While the village was excited that such a terrible danger had been removed, it had cost the lives of many, including Hugh. They gave them all a ceremony fitting for heroes and loaded their remains into a canoe together so that they could continue to protect each other in the next world. As custom, the village stayed up all night sharing stories about the ones they lost, and they wondered what would happen to Hugh. Would his spirit continue to travel with the Kanaka he fell protecting? We got our answer this morning just before dawn.

We were all very tired when he walked up to the fire and sat down. Many rubbed their eyes in disbelief. Hugh just sat smiling and pointed out towards the train station, made a chopping motion, and gave a thumbs up. I’m not sure how or why Hugh is back, but I’m glad that he is. I have a feeling we will have many more adventures

STORYLINE

How The Mission Became a Sanctuary for All After the Fracture

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There are a number of buildings that survived the great accident. The comm tower, the veil station, and the power plant all offer those who survived a reminder of how the world once was. None of them are held as dear as The Mission, however. Once a place of quiet contemplation, The Mission was vital in the battles that drove most of the horrors out of this part of the island. In the years since the fracture, it has served as a sanctuary for those in need, a place of healing, and a symbol of what can be accomplished when we work together.

Known as Maluhia or The Place of Peace to the Kānaka, The Mission offered seekers of serenity and knowledge a refuge before the Fracture. It was only natural that survivors sought shelter and safety there. For many years Maluhia served as a place of healing for the people. There the greatest Kānaka herbalists and healers practiced their craft. Whether it be a fever, a broken bone, or something more serious, you could find relief at The Mission. Countless lives were saved there, and not just those of the Kānaka.

The Place of Peace was open to all who needed help and served as an embassy of sorts. When one of the many veil storms threw the great cruise ship against the rocks, the survivors sought refuge there. They traded books, their knowledge, and their stories for food and shelter. Eventually, they formed a school and taught many of our children the power of words and ideas. A group of them reside there still today. While we all seek peace, it is sometimes hard to secure and the island was becoming more dangerous.

The horrors born from the explosion were gaining strength and growing quickly. Night Marchers and Trophy Hunters prowled the trails, the Menehune scurried through the rubble, and the Green Ladies haunted the forests, hungry for blood. The people feared leaving the safety of the village, and they were losing hope. It was then that the great chief Ikaika began to gather the people to fight back. He gathered a great number of Kānaka warriors to battle against the creatures. He formed an alliance with the Thrivers on the hill and the people to the North. Together, the army of Ikaika cleared much of the island and made its way to Black Rock Beach.

The fighting there was terrible and lasted for days. Hundreds lost their lives, and so many were injured that The Mission was overflowing. It was then that Ikaika decided to turn away all who were not Kānaka. Many Kānaka survived that day because of that decision, but as the people were treated, we watched the bodies of our allies pile up outside. Eventually, the Thriver’s commander Colonel Kaua arrived and demanded we treat his people. With his elite band of Koa behind him, Ikaka thanked the Colonel for his bravery but said there were too many injured Kānaka to worry about the lives of Thrivers. He told Kaua to take his wounded and go in peace. The Thrivers were angry.

While most of the monsters had been eradicated, tensions between the people and the other groups on the island grew. The Thrivers refused to trade. Soon there was no ammunition, and when machines broke there were no replacement parts. The people of the North would no longer exchange food for medicines and nets. It wasn’t long before the first skirmish broke out and a scout returned to the Mission with a Thriver bullet in his shoulder. Ikaika may have cleansed the island of the evil the Fracture had spawned but he had made new enemies. The Kānaka could now walk the roads without worrying about Night Marchers, but we walked them alone.

The people began to worry. We had beat back the hordes only with the help of those we had turned our backs on. If the creatures grew in strength again would we be able to fight them off alone? The future seemed uncertain and dangerous, but Ikaika was given a second chance.

The colonel arrived at the mission one day flanked with a large group of Thriver soldiers. At first, the people thought they had come to attack and Kānaka warriors filled the courtyard with spear and koa axe in hand. It was then that the people saw the colonel was holding his son in his arms. The boy had been attacked by Trophy Collectors while on a scouting run and his blood was now tainted with their disease. They had tried for days to cleanse him of the poison but he continued to get worse.

Ikaka listened to Kaua’s story and stopped him before he could finish his plea. He said, “Of course we will do what we can for someone as brave as your son. Sometimes the hardest battle for warriors such as us is learning to live in peace. I made an enemy when I didn’t need to. I beg that you forgive me for my decision to turn you away. From this day forward The Mission will be open to all who need sanctuary or healing. This will be a place of peace for us all.”

And so it has been since that day. Kaua’s son was saved and teaches those interested in learning the way of the warrior near Pu’u. The descendants of the cruise ship survivors have come back and all are now welcome as the great chief promised. I spend my days telling our stories and teaching the lessons of our history, ensuring that we never forget the power of peace and cooperation.

Bruddah Lee
Kanaka Historian

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

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?