–
Emergency alert: Extreme
BALLISTIC MISSILE THREAT INBOUND TO HAWAII. SEEK
IMMEDIATE SHELTER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.
OK
–
Saturday, 13 January 2018
8:07 am Island Time.
I had just woken up and was in the bathroom, brushing my teeth when my phone
buzzed. I resisted the impulse to check it immediately: one of my new year
resolutions was to improve my concentration and work on my tendency to get
distracted by the constant barrage of phone notifications. But this was a
different kind of buzz than all the regular apps. The vibration wouldn't cease
and my phone nearly tap danced its way into the bathroom sink. I recognised it
as an AMBER Alert, America's emergency warning broadcast system, that I was
familiar with through the rare flash flood warnings during my time in Arizona
and forest fire alerts in California. I picked up the phone and read the alert.
I was not prepared for what it said. I spat toothpaste foam out.
'Ballistic missile threat inbound to
Hawaii.' Obviously, it was a nuclear missile. Why would it be
any other? Of course, it was North Korea. Who else could it be?
'Seek immediate shelter. This is not
a drill.' How soon is immediate? Where is shelter? I
wish we had had drills for this sort of occurrence. Agreed
that this event wasn't anticipated to be happening every so often. But the
possibility of it was becoming more and more likely over the last couple of
weeks, what with Kim Jong Un stating "...the U.S. is within range of our
nuclear weapons and a nuclear button is always on the desk of my office"
and Donald Trump responding "... I too have a Nuclear Button, but it is a
much bigger & more powerful one than his, and my Button works!"
The alert message was in all caps,
and its succinct sentences lent it the urgency of an order that was to be
obeyed without question. It's amazing that missiles could now be launched at
you from halfway around the planet, but communication had gone from terse
telegram to taciturn Twitter. I guess details are unnecessary when the devil is
hurtling towards you at 15,000 miles an hour. The message had an OK button
below it. I tapped it, but it refused to go. I was expecting a follow-up
message with instructions on where to seek shelter and how long we had to live.
None arrived.
8:10 am Island Time.
I finished brushing my teeth, flossing my gums, cleaning my tongue. Teeth are
the longest-lasting of human remains. Might as well die with sparkling pearly
whites. I went to the living room and booted my laptop. In the age of fake news
and the frequent hacking of seemingly secure cyber systems, I have learnt to
confirm, double-check, cross-verify every bit of information that comes my way.
I googled "Hawaii missile threat". The top ten results talked about
how Hawaii was on high alert ever since the President's working Nuclear Button
tweet. One of them even said the U.S. Air Force had deployed three
nuclear-capable, stealth B-2 Spirit bombers and 200 air force personnel to the
island of Guam, closer to North Korea in the western Pacific Ocean, preparing
for an attack. I filtered the search results by time to see the latest. A Daily
Mail report carried news of the inbound missile threat to Hawaii. Only three
minutes after I had received an alert on my phone, in the bathroom, from the
Hawaii Emergency Management Agency, on an island, in the middle of the Pacific,
and with no other U.S. media outlets having caught wind of it yet. It's
commendable how fast tabloids pick up on these things. Nonetheless, I wouldn't
trust what the Daily Mail report said even if the threat turned out true.
There was no other way to confirm the
alert. I went out onto my balcony to see if I could sight the missile in the
sky. Stupid idea. I ran back inside like a maniac, like I had actually seen it
approaching. I googled "nuclear shelters Maui". A blog post came up,
calculating the time people in several U.S. cities would have to seek shelter
in case an intercontinental ballistic missile was headed their way from North
Korea. Missile flight time from Pyongyang to Honolulu was 37 minutes. The U.S.
Air Force would detect it within instants of the launch, then inform the
President and Federal government, who would intimate the Hawaii Governor and
state government, who would in turn notify the Hawaii Emergency Management
Agency, who would then initiate sending out the emergency alerts to everyone's
phones, radios and television channels. Several signals would bounce off
several satellites. The churning of all this machinery would take up 25
minutes. Leaving us just 12 minutes from the moment our cellphone screens
flashed with the alert till the moment of the big bang. I looked at the time.
8:13. Six minutes remaining. I panicked. I would not see the sunbeams that were
starting from the sun at this very second.
8:13 am Island Time.
I closed the blog post. I had no time for idle reading. I went back to looking
for shelters and clicked on the County of Maui's Disaster Preparedness website.
I hoped there was a shelter within six miles of my apartment. That's how far I
could drive within the next six minutes. Considering I would drive at twice the
speed limit. But also considering that several thousand other cars would be
driving to the same destination. The County's webpage had some helpful tips on
what to pack for emergencies. Non-perishable foods for three days, at least
three gallons of water, a flashlight, a first aid kit. I went to my fridge. I
was out of groceries. Sunday was grocery shopping day, and this situation had
caught me on Saturday morning. I was happy to find half a loaf of bread, four
slices of cheddar cheese, ginger garlic paste, and the dregs of
pineapple-peach-passion fruit kombucha. The supplies would last me a day. I
contemplated if I had the time to continue a family tradition and cook myself a
Saturday breakfast of Maggi noodles. But it struck me that two-minute noodles
never got cooked in two minutes.
I looked around the apartment to see
what I would take with me. I could probably stuff a duffel bag to the point of
tearing. My eyes went to my bookshelves. My carefully curated collection of
fiction, philosophy, poetry, and Moleskine journals. My Google Cardboard
virtual reality viewer and my solar-powered Tyrannosaurus rex. No, they would
take up too much space in the bag. I looked at my laptop. My window to the
world. No, it would run out of battery. The shelter would likely be a concrete
bunker, several hundred feet under the ground, with no unsecured Wi-Fi
connections or charging points. I realised I had very few material possessions
to pick from to begin with. Years of living like a nomad and recent Buddhist
leanings had made me somewhat of a minimalist. I suddenly had a deep
appreciation for my monastic lifestyle. There weren't many, if any, things that
I would miss in the shelter. I dropped the thought of the duffel bag. I would
go without it. I also realised I wouldn't have the chance to miss anything if I
didn't make it to the shelter in time. I checked for its location again. I
scrolled to the bottom of the County website where a section listed the nine
most frequently asked questions for disaster preparedness. Below 2.
Where can I return lava rocks to Hawaii? was the question 3.
Where are the emergency shelter locations on Maui? I expanded the
answer. It said, "There are hurricane and tsunami evacuation routes, but
no bomb shelters in Maui County as of 10:00 am on Wednesday, August 30th,
2016."
8:16 am Island Time.
Three minutes remaining. I was shocked to read that. What was the alert message
going on about then? Seek immediate shelter. Was that
someone's idea of a killing joke? I googled "What to do in case of a
nuclear attack". One of the results suggested staying away from doors and
windows. That seemed intuitive. I didn't bother clicking the link. The next
search excerpt recommended keeping inside a concrete structure, preferably in
the innermost room, like the bathroom. I ran to my bathroom and locked the door
behind me. I was scurrying into the bathtub when I turned midway and unlocked
the bathroom door. I didn't want the lock to be jammed in if I somehow survived
the blast. I got into the bathtub and drew the shower curtain, as if it would
provide an additional layer of security. I wondered if I should turn the shower
on to battle the flames, but decided against it. What if the water kept running
and flooded my bathroom, drowning me? I wondered if I should keep my clothes
on. This is what they would discover my body in, if they ever did. But I
figured the garments would be charred anyway, and it'd be better to not have
anything burn over my body in the final moments. I stripped down to my birthday
suit and rolled up in the tub in the fetal position. I would go from the world
as I came into it.
I thought about the last meal that I
had had. Dahi vada, paneer makhani and garlic naan at the new Indian restaurant
I'd gone to check out last night. Lentil dumplings topped with a savoury yogurt
sauce, a tangy tamarind chutney and garnished with cilantro, cottage cheese
swimming in a creamy gravy of butter, tomatoes and cashews, and Indian garlic
bread. It was good. It was still inside my system, as I couldn't go much
further in my ablutions after the dental hygiene bit. I picked up my phone and
thought of what song to play. I had three minutes left. I could probably
squeeze in one last song. I played Honey and the Moon. Four minutes 46 seconds
of the best music mankind has made. Joseph Arthur started singing, filling the
sanctum sanctorum of my shower with the echoes of his soulful voice. I would
die with the strains of "Freedom. Run away. Run away
tonight." at the three-minute mark. I closed my eyes.
8:17 am Island Time.
They say your life flashes in front of you moments before you die. I was having
none of that. Did it mean I was not dying? Would I survive the blast and be
horribly scarred for the rest of my life? Or perhaps, I was just a poor dier. I
focussed all my energy into conjuring up life flashes. I thought about the very
first memory I can remember: I was three years old and scampering through my bedroom
to my balcony in Bombay. That's all I remember about it. What an
inconsequential first memory. I recalled talking in my sleep until I was six
years old, in what sounded like a Scandinavian language to my parents. Neither
they nor I could comprehend what I was saying. We think they were memories from
my previous life somewhere in Scandinavia, until I got older and formed new
memories to overwrite the old ones. I recollected slashing my brother's arm
with a blade I had found lying on the playground. Because he had made me bowl
to him for an hour but had got me out on the very first ball when it was my
turn to bat. I was nine years old and never quite forgave myself for how much
blood he lost that day. I remembered feeling my first crush at twelve years old.
I thought Monica from Friends was exceptionally cute, but didn't understand why
I felt that way. I recalled the first time I spied a couple have sex, in the
building opposite mine. I was fifteen and on my terrace, way past my curfew
time. All I remember is the bright orange lamp in the bedroom and the swing in
the balcony and the naked silhouettes of the couple in bed. I replayed the
memory of my first kiss, at eighteen. I wasn't ready for when she kissed me. It
was very awkward. I didn't know whether to feel happy it was happening or to
let my disgust overwhelm me that I was sucking on someone's tongue.
8:18 am Island Time.
Tick tock. I tried to think happy thoughts. Only two questions came swirling
into my head. Did I live enough? Did I give enough? Had I lived enough? I
think I'd had a pretty full life for someone dying so prematurely. I had a very
happy childhood, with no complaints, growing up with loving family and friends,
a school and a city I adored until I moved out at 22. I wouldn't change a single
thing about my past life. I had switched four jobs trying to find what I wanted
to do in life, and was lucky to have found my calling and gotten a Master's
degree in it. I was fortunate to have lived in so many cities in India: Panjim,
Bombay, Pune, Jamshedpur, Lucknow, Pantnagar, Bhubaneswar, Hubli, Bangalore,
and Manipal, and to have had the opportunities to travel in so many countries
around the world: India, Hong Kong, Macau, the United Arab Emirates, the United
States, Switzerland, Germany, and China. I had exposed myself to the best of
human creativity, in the books I'd read, the movies and TV series I'd watched,
the music and podcasts I'd listened to. These had all broadened my horizon and
helped me ever strive to be the best version of myself. I'd paid off my student
debts and bought my first car. I now lived and would die in one of the most
beautiful places in the world. I had a vast network of acquaintances and a few
very close friends who would mourn my demise. I hoped.
8:19 am Island Time.
It was time. Any moment now. Had I given enough? I had not. I
had spent all my life just consuming and consuming, not creating enough in
return. All I could be remembered for were my few tangible contributions to a
tiny corner of the world. Three megawatts of solar power installed in the U.S.,
two papers in scientific journals that may not be useful to anyone, one chapter
in an encyclopedia on solar energy for young adults that may never be read. My
friends would remember me by how I made them feel. I could count on one hand
the number of people whose lives I may have impacted in the smallest possible
way. I had had a single, failed relationship, so I hadn't even given enough
love. It made me miserable that I hadn't given more to the world. Especially
since I was in a position where I certainly could have. I waited to hear the
explosion. Would I see the blinding light too, cocooned in my bathtub? I would
definitely feel the heat of the blast. Maybe the splinters of the door would
fly at me. Maybe the ceiling would cave in? Maybe the smoke from the mushroom
cloud would fill my bathroom and strangle me to death. Maybe I deserved it, for
living the selfish life I had lived.
8:20 am Island Time.
Nothing happened. The song changed to Hotel California. "You can
check out any time you like, but you can never leave." The
epicentre was most likely Honolulu, the densely populated urban area. Maximum
impact. The blast radius would probably be two miles, but the North Koreans
could detonate it a thousand feet above ground to cause significantly more
damage. The radioactive fumes and the fallout would be hazardous. It would take
about twenty minutes for the fumes to spread to the other islands. It wasn't
safe to get out yet.
8:27 am Island Time.
I can hear the seconds pass by. I reckon one for every two heartbeats I feel
thudding against my chest. The song changes again. Radiohead's How To Disappear
Completely. "In a little while / I'll be gone / The moment's
already passed / Yeah it's gone." I try remembering wind patterns
in the Hawaiian Islands. The north and the east shores of each island were
called the Windward coasts, because the winds usually blew in from the
northeast. However, in the winter, we had the Kona winds bringing the volcanic
fog or vog in from the Big Island in the southeast. In either case, the wind
would blow from east to west, that is, from Maui to Honolulu away from Maui.
Armed with this discovery, I decided it was safe to venture out of the
bathroom. I felt like Archimedes emerging out of the bathtub, opening the door
carefully. No smoke. I went to the balcony. No sirens sounding. No smoke in
sight. Except for light from the nuclear explosion. Of the fusion kind.
I returned to the bathroom, to be
sure. I logged on to Twitter hoping for some updates. I went to Trump's
Twitter. Nothing. I went to Hawaii Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard's Twitter. She
had tweeted, at 8:19 am Island Time: "HAWAII - THIS IS A FALSE ALARM.
THERE IS NO INCOMING MISSILE TO HAWAII. I HAVE CONFIRMED WITH OFFICIALS THERE
IS NO INCOMING MISSILE." Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt like I had
been born again. Never had I felt so fragile, so vulnerable, yet such unbounded
joy. I ran to the balcony. I looked at the lush green, fluted mountains on my
left, the azure blue, calm ocean on my right, and the butterflies flitting
about the red bougainvillea just below me. What a place for anyone to bomb, I
thought. But what an even more incredible place to be alive.
8:45 am Island Time.
–
Emergency alert: Extreme
There is no missile threat or danger to the State
of Hawaii. Repeat. False Alarm.
OK
–
A full 38 minutes after the first
alert was sent out, the Hawaii Emergency Management Agency (EMA) sent out this
second alert to cellphones saying the first was a false alarm. I hoped they
wouldn't retract this second alert. You tend to start not trusting the boy who
cried wolf. The story, I now know, is that the EMA conducts drills for its
employees thrice a day at changes of shifts, to be prepared to send out such alerts.
During a drill that morning, an employee had inadvertently pressed the correct
button and followed through on a dialog box asking if he was sure he wanted to
send out the alert. By the time he realised his mistake, the message had
appeared on a million cellphones. It turns out the EMA had template alerts set
for missiles, hurricanes, tsunamis, but no template set for a false alarm. The
EMA had to jump through a number of hoops in the state machinery in order to
receive approval to create a custom message about the false alarm. And all this
took a full 38 minutes.
Having spoken to many people about
the incident and having read multiple accounts online, I now know that chaos
had ensued in the state in those 38 minutes. People had jumped in their cars and
gone to Walmart and Costco to stock up on food and water. Cars lined up outside
gas stations to fill up their tanks. Where they were planning to drive to, I can only wonder. It’s an island: you can’t drive off it. Several people had called their families
to tell them one last time how much they loved them. Many couples got engaged. Some people, like me, had
crawled up in their bathtubs. Honeymooners in hotels across Hawaii lamented
choosing this week to come out here. One of the big resorts opened up their bar. The bartender is said to have shouted, “Last orders.” Children cried. Businesses shut shop and
sent their employees home to their loved ones. A friend and her colleagues
piled into a shipping container in the backyard of their office and nearly died
of suffocation. Pornhub saw a steep drop in traffic to their website when the
first alert went out, but saw a sharp rise back up when the second alert was
sent out. President Trump was obviously golfing at his Mar-a-Lago estate
Saturday morning and only heard about the whole fiasco after the second alert.
Which is for the best, people say. Who knows what he would have done in
retaliation if he had heard about it after the first alert.
Hawaii's Governor has promised to fix
the EMA's alert management system so this never happens again. They are
speaking of changing the Internet Explorer-based system, with alert hyperlinks
placed one below the other, to a more graphical user interface. They have
already added a template alert for a false alarm. The Governor also said the
EMA would now require two people to confirm the alert before it is sent out,
reducing the likelihood of an error. As for me, I have realised that life is
short. Death is imminent, whether by nuclear apocalypse or some other means.
Death is certain. It is just not certain when it will arrive. Whether in 12
minutes, or 12 hours, or 12 months, or 60 years. But it will come for sure. And
I want to be ready for it when it does. I will ask myself if I have lived enough
and given enough, and I want to be able to say yes and yes when it does.
Every day I wake up after Saturday,
the 13th January 2018, I have the same feeling of urgency and dread. It is not
an alert on my phone, but an alert in my head. Life is precious. Time is ticking.
You will not be here, this free, forever. You are already past the age where
you should have been giving back, creating more than you are consuming. Is what
you are doing right now the best use of your time? Of your life? So I have made
these new year resolutions: I will waste no time. I will continue to read,
consume, devour the beauty the world has to offer, but I will write more,
create more to add value to this world. I will continue to travel as much as I
can to explore and understand the world around us, but I will try to touch in a
positive way the lives that intersect with mine. For I do not want to feel,
when death arrives, as surely it will, that I have lived a selfish life.
