Austin Aslan - The Islands at the End of the World

Mr. Donnell asked all amateur astronomers and backyard stargazers to share their findings and contact him at the Bishop Museum.

Mr. Donnell addressed growing support for an electromagnetic-pulse theory, in which damaging voltage surges result from certain varieties of high-energy explosions. He cautioned against making “wild guesses.”

“There are a number of possible explanations,” he said.

“I want to see it again,” I say.

“Let’s hope it goes away,” Dad says.

He reads the entire newspaper to me as the morning slowly unfolds. Apparently, whatever’s happening in Hawai`i is happening all over the world. Some satellite signals have returned, but they’re weak and erratic. A resident of Pearl City reports that one television station in the Balkans was broadcasting on his satellite receiver for almost half an hour before the signal was lost, but he had no idea what was being said. Some ham radio operators have made contact with peers on the mainland, but they’re only able to swap stories of mass power outages and confusion.

The power at the lab keeps going on and off, but the generators bridge the divides. Dr. Makani visits about once an hour. Being off my drugs feels like floating on a life raft in the open ocean, with no idea what’s coming over the horizon.

Mom and Kai. What are they up to? I keep seeing their pixilated faces frozen as they stare into the webcam.

At least Grandpa’s with them .

I go to charge my cell phone late in the afternoon when we have a power “on-age.” The network is up! I have full bars. “Dad! We can call home!”

Dad snatches up his own phone. He raises his eyebrows and dials Mom. “See. Things are on the mend, just like that!”

His phone never connects to a dial tone, though. We try my phone. Nothing.

“There’s no way to route a call,” he says.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone shows no network. Landlines don’t work, either.

I’ve never missed anyone so much that it hurt before, but right now I’d give anything to be back with Mom and Kai and Grandpa.

“I hope they’re not too worried about us.”

Dad smiles. “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“What do you think they’re doing?”

Dad shifts. “Probably not much different from usual.”

“Satellite issues wouldn’t only affect O`ahu. Mom and Grandpa must be as clueless as we are.”

“Probably true. But there’s no reason to worry.”

Afternoon rolls into evening. I work on my homework and pepper Dad with trigonometry questions. I eat dinner while Dad snacks on hotel loot. We go outside and watch the green cloud. It’s brighter, nearer, but somehow less menacing. Does it seem familiar already? Or just less mysterious, like the sound of thunder after the first big storm of the season?

“Dad, go back to the hotel.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. You smell.”

“Ha!” He punches my shoulder lightly. “Sure that’s not you? It would be nice to check on our room, make sure it hasn’t been given away.”

“I’ll be fine. Go.”

“You must really like this place.” He’s joking, but I wonder—is he impatient?

“Maybe these trial meds work,” I say hopefully.

“It’s all going to come around, you’ll see.” He kisses me good-night and departs.

The power goes off shortly after he leaves; the generators have finally run out of gas. In the new silence, I hear the rhythmic sounds of a Christian revival ceremony up the hill. Preaching, singing, weeping. The off-key laments and bass-guitar riffs comfort me. I think of home, and Kai’s laughter. I set my cell phone on the pillow next to me, willing it to ring, with Mom on the other end.

A nurse hangs out with me by candlelight until I fall asleep.

Thursday morning the power is off, and now other equipment is busted, too. A technician is on the way, but I’m not holding my breath. Dad arrives at six a.m. with a bag of buffet goodies, including stale donuts.

“Only the finest at your five-star accommodations,” I joke, chomping on the donuts. “Howzit out there?”

“Getting weirder.”

Today’s paper pokes out of his bag. I point at it. “Anything new?”

“The paper’s dubbed it the ‘Emerald Orchid.’ I guess it does kind of look like a giant Georgia O’Keeffe painting.”

I kind of like the name. It reminds me of home. The Big Island is also known as the Orchid Isle. And the green cloud did look like a flower. I wonder what they’re calling it in New York. The Big Apple Blossom? “Who cares what they name it? I want to know what it is . Can I see the paper?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

I feel my chest rise, my pulse pounding. “Why?”

“Just … please? It’s nothing.”

“The best way to create panic is to tell people not to panic,” I snap.

Dad hems and haws. “Fine. Here.” He hands me the paper. “Remember, there’s no reason to think they’re not perfectly safe.”

TSUNAMI STRIKES EASTERN SHORES

Damage Reported on All Islands

HONOLULU—The ocean rose as high as 20 feet over a period of hours, sending tsunami waves along O`ahu’s Kailua Bay early yesterday morning.

Extensive damage was reported in Kailua and to the piers along O`ahu’s eastern side. Speaking on condition of anonymity, a military pilot described tsunami damage on each of the islands between O`ahu and the Big Island yesterday evening, and severe damage along the Big Island’s Hamakua Coast in and around Hilo.

Officials have not released specific information.

Theodore Thompson, a seismologist at the University of Hawai`i at Manoa, said the tsunamis are evidence that the green cloud entering the solar system is shedding meteorlike objects capable of striking Earth.

“The timing of the arrival of these large waves could easily correspond with a large meteor impact in the Pacific,” he said. “A confirmed meteor impact south of Alaska on Sunday makes this a compelling assumption.”

Mr. Thompson declined to speculate on how meteoric activity could disrupt global communications. He said his team was working on several theories.

“Dad! Dad.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “They’re fine.”

“Yeah, but I want to know they’re fine.”

“We’re mauka—high up—away from town. We’ve got a nice garden. We have chickens. Grandpa’s with them.”

“But Tami doesn’t live near us! She doesn’t have a garden! If power’s out on the Big Island, then won’t the tsunami warning system be busted? What about her? What about …?”

“Lei, it’s no good to … speculate. This won’t get us anywhere.”

I’m silent, but I want to scream. Not knowing … not being able to find out. A simple text is all it would take. Click, click , send.

Dad plays with the window slats and moodily wipes sweat off his face. After a few minutes, I grumble, “Knock that off.”

“What, is there something in here you’re trying to focus on?” he snaps.

“Yeah: calm,” I spit back.

Dad freezes. “You know what, Lei, I’m the textbook definition of calm.”

I burst out laughing. He looks startled, then joins in.

Dad sits down, resting his forehead in his hands. The silence is broken by honking horns and helicopters. Finally, he stands. “I’ll be right back, honey.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. I …”

He strokes my hair. “We need to get home. We should start looking for other ways off this island now, before things—”

“How bad is it out there?”

“I just want to be ahead of the game, that’s all.” And he’s gone.

I stare at a bamboo-framed poster of the Hawaiian Islands on the wall. I try to wrap my head around what Dad said. Other ways off this island?