Casting her magic

Although Tubers had given up the worship of the god Lono and the human sacrifices his priests demanded ... and though they had given up the war gods and lived in peace and prosperity... and though in The Tube seldom was heard a disputative word ... Tubers were not kava-addled idiots.

They knew -- from the ruling, sacred, matrilineal La'a line on down to low chiefs of excrement haulers like Kaneloa -- that threats and dangers lurked just beyond the walls where they kept the old Hawaiian culture, religion and language alive.

Thus, the Tuber Border Patrol. Just as the non-violent Dalai Lamas of Tibet for centuries depended on the Mongol Khans for protection, so too did the Tubers rely on their Border Patrol. Descended from the warriors of old Hawaii, they practiced the ancient martial arts, plus some Bruce Lee moves they learned from watching his films on Topside intelligence missions. Woe be unto anyone who tried to enter The Tube. When that happened, the Border Patrol did an impersonation the Hell's Angels providing security for the Rolling Stones at Altamont. It never went well for the intruder.

The whole reason they'd taken the culture underground was that Hawaiians didn't do a good enough job of keeping foreign influences out of Hawaii -- if that were even possible. Keeping humans out of The Tube, however, was possible. With the exception of the young chief Kamehameha, and the two chiefs who turned his bones over to the Border Patrol on that moonless November night in 1819, none had ever survived.

That said, the Border Patrol had saved many a fisherman lost at sea, and returned several injured hunters and hikers who fell through shallow portions of The Tube -- but only if they could do so undetected. Say a fisherman gets swept off the rocks by a big wave, he's drowning, Tubers will wait until he's just unconscious, swim him back to shore, do a little CPR. If survivors remembered anything, it was being saved by an angel, or perhaps a menehune.

This time, though, they were inviting the goddess Tokelani in.

"She must be having a hard time finding the entrance," the first officer said, looking up from the peep hole at the entrance.

"My concern," the captain said, "is the people with her. Clearly human, although the one called Pua Makua, Ph.D., seems to walk with the gods."

"Psst, Tokelani. Over here," the first officer repeated, whispering. He gave a thumbs up over his shoulder. She'd heard him!

He suddenly turned away from the peeper. "Dang, she's walking away with the others. But she's glancing over her shoulder. I think she likes me."

Tokelani was casting her whoopee fever magic from afar, it appeared.

"I believe," the captain said, donning a pair of dark wrap-around shades, "it's time we go Topside. Gentlemen, apply your sunscreen."