Austin Aslan - The Islands at the End of the World

“We’ll think of a way.”

Buzz yells. “Looks like we’re ready.” He dashes between a tight-knit grid of garage-sized satellite dishes as if he were a Hawaiian honeycreeper pollinating giant flowers. The roar of several gas generators penetrates the stillness.

Buzz huffs and puffs into view. He studies me kindly, attaches makeshift electrodes to my head. “We have about twenty minutes before your dad and I have to adjust all the dishes. I imagine we’ll be adjusting the orientation all night, though. Don’t worry if it takes a while.”

“You all set, Lei? I’m right here.” Dad holds my hand.

I smile and pop open my can of diet soda.

“I’m right here to keep you safe.”

I kiss him on the forehead. “I know.”

I turn east, opposite the sunset, and cross my legs. The sky above the carpet of clouds is pink and orange and red. No hint of green. But I trust Buzz, and I trust my father, and I trust myself. Dad braces me. I close my eyes and drink.

Leilani. I am Leilani. I am with you .

I go toward the depths. It is time for the long fastness now .

Return to the shores. Rest here. Remain with me. Stay with the sweetness until it has finished flowing.

The hotness is sweet. I like the hotness. But I need the long fastness. I need to leave .

No. You don’t. Stay.

Stay.

I yearn for the depths and the long fastness to the other shores .

No. You don’t. You only want to do that because it’s what you’ve always done. What the one who gave you always did. Stay. There is purpose in staying. We need you to take up all the hotness until it is gone.

I do what is always done. Yes. It is good .

You like the shores. You want the sweetness. It is best for the young one. It is better here than in the deep. Best for the young one. To feed. To feed. Feed the young one.

The depths are good. The long fastness must begin. Yes, I like the shores. The other shores. I am almost free enough of the current to begin .

No. We need you. Stay.

Hello? Leilani? Where did you go? Please.

It is time to begin .

There you are.

I can feel the fastness building. Soon we will rush .

I am Leilani. I will return to the shore that I just left. The one I gave needs the hotness. I want the depths, but I want to do the good thing more. The good thing is to stay.

I need to go. The long fastness is best .

I need to stay. It is best for the one I gave. I am safe here. I will stay. Here the young one grows strong. Strongest young one of them all. We will stay. It is just a moment. Just a moment until the sweetness is used up. Then we will go. The depths are not good. Not without the strength. The others will take the one I have given. I must protect the one from harm. We are safe here for now. We will stay. The others will come and steal this sweetness. I must protect the sweetness. I must use it. The sweetness is good and it will keep me safe it will keep the one I gave safe it is the good thing to do yes I want to go but I want to stay too I want to stay more than I want to go it is just a short time I will stay for a short time more and then go for the other shore and enjoy the fastness later.

I want to stay. It is safer to stay and grow strong and protect the one that I gave and do the fastness later .

Yes. To stay is good. I want to stay and make myself and the one that I gave stronger. That way the long fastness will be even more pleasant and the one that I gave will have an advantage over all the other new ones and the sweetness is too sweet to let go especially now when I am weak from the giving and the one I gave is still weak and I want to stay not long just until all the oozing is spent and then I can go I want to stay for now and enjoy the sweetness which is hard to find I like these shores the surf the seafoam rocks me the one that I gave will be with me and we will be together for longer and it is good it is good to stay it is what I want to do it is what I yearn to do it is good and the sweetness is good and I am very satisfied.

I yearn for the seafoam of the shores where I gave the new one. I yearn for the hotness sweetness and we will stay here until we are strong and safe and all the sweetness is gone .

I am Leilani. We are Leilani. We will stay. It is our purpose now. We are one. We are ali`i nui . We are the guardians of the shores and the surf and the islands and all the mysteries that dwell within. We hunger for the rumbling of rock, the creeping swirl of orange light. We have dreamt of these shores. We were born here, but we slipped away. Now we have reached the shallows, at long last, guided across the endless waters by ancient stars. These islands and their sacred tides call us forth.

We are home.

We are Leilani. Spellbound, we blossom.

We are Leilani. Spellbound, we blossom .

Hilo has always been dark at night—dimly lit to assist the observatories in their endless safaris through the skies—but it was never this dark. Squares of candlelight seeping through kitchen windows hint that the town remains home to tens of thousands of people, but the streets seem deserted on this green, moonless night.

We drive by Tami’s. I see candles in their windows! The house is fine. In the van, I blink back tears. I’ll find her tomorrow. But we can’t stop.

Home first.

We retrieve the Civic as we retrace our path. Dad is so relieved to have his car back, as if that’s the thing that has been pressing on his mind most. I stifle a laugh.

I glance out the window to admire the two Star Flowers. They are fully separate now; everyone will know there are two. They blossom much larger and nearer than they ever have. I may be able to hear the mother’s guileless mind even now. A switch has been flipped in my brain; some door, once seamless in the walls of my mind, remains propped open. Yes, I do believe I can hear … something.

Can she still hear me?

I think she can. We are Leilani, after all. We are somehow one.

I did it. I brought them back. And I can feel the mother, somehow. It’s like beginning to wiggle a foot that has fallen asleep. She’s a part of me now. So odd. So marvelous. I can sense her drawing up radiation from the Earth’s surface, neutralizing it. The sensation reminds me of a bone-dry sponge in my hand, growing soft and moist as I press it against a countertop spill.

We were right to do this. We saved the world. Everyone. Everyone . Our race may still have a future.

My eyes study the silhouetted slopes of Mauna Loa. Pele’s home, where she stopped running and took a stand. Her throne does not rise as high toward the sky as Mauna Kea, but she exerts a greater force upon the world. She simmers within, biding her time, shaping her paths with infinite confidence and patience.

The bearer of the future, she rises, and at the pace of her choosing.

An old Jeep is in the driveway as we pull up.

A freshly skinned pig hangs from a hook in the carport, and Grandpa’s hunting knife lies on the cement below it.

My heart soars.

And now, in the headlights, I spot Kai jumping up and down on the porch. He turns and yells into the house. I am melting. I am finally coming undone.

“Oh, my God,” Dad manages.

I jump out of the car before it comes to a complete halt. My rubbery legs carry me up the steps, and Kai and I slam into each other with formless cries of joy. Mom is at the window beside the porch door. Grandpa stands behind her. Her eyes are frantic and ravenous and wild with hope.

And then she sees me.

The door whips open, and all five of us seize each other. We are finally together. Once more, underneath the watchful, starry eyes of majestic and mysterious forces, we are whole.