Joshua's Atlas

By Gerald T Dale

A society of EXTRATERRESTRIALS in their ever present GUARDAINSHiIP ROLE over the inhabitants of planet EARTH have foreseen a forthcoming CATACLYSMIC event of which the residents are justifiably unaware.. A sudden halt to their efforts to avert this calamity leaves earth's future in extreme PERIL. The ONLY HOPE to restore thes

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerald T Dale
• Release date: Aug 5, 2023
• ISBN: 9781961254220

Gerald T Dale

Gerald T. Dale, born Gerald Dale Templin, on a Wisconsin farm in 1938, was raised in a family of eight children. I attribute most of my rectitude on my mother's influence and my father's stern authority. My formative years created a desire to become a writer but this creativity was not developed at that time. Because of my limited resources, my writing career was considered a hobby while I struggled for financial equilibrium. I spent three years in the United States Army beginning immediately after high school graduation. My career thereafter centered on factory work. As I neared retirement age, I developed the need to return to my first love, the love to write. For my mentor, I appreciated the works of O'Henry whom I recognized as the master of surprise endings. It was to this same objective that I aspired toward within this novels. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.

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DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my parents, my sister Shirley and my brother George Allen.

First of all, to my sister Shirley whose inspiration pushed me to revive my love of writing and who first suggested my pen name. Shirley was the first within the family to join our heavenly father and her presence is surely missed. I know that someday her wit and her influence will again be my guide. Meanwhile, I am sure that her tour de force is being capitalized upon in heaven.

I love and miss my parents who taught me that love, honesty and hard work paves my way and from there, one only needs to go out and do it. One of my mother’s favorite sayings was if at first you don’t succeed, try, try, again. Another was nothing ventured, nothing gained. Thank you, mother, we (the family) needed your stewardship.

My brother George Allen who chose smoking over longevity until it was no longer a choice, brings out an anger within me about his choices that will not dissolve.

It was George (Al as we knew him) that I credit with most of my fictional creativity because of his ability to write a scenario that my father would swallow after one of his many infractions to Dad’s rules. If Al could not appear justified if not heroic given the terms of the ‘emergency’ that initiated the infraction then he simply needed to invent new reasoning. Don’t get me wrong here, Dad was not easily duped but I believe that sometimes he chose to accede to the fabrication in respect to the creativity. After all, he was once young himself as we (the siblings) found out later in life.

If all of this tends to contradict my parents’ teachings, you are being misled because it was my mother that eventually clarified the results. Believe me, the family needed and received my mother’s love, guidance and care.

INTRODUCTION

Impossible … What does that mean? I have heard the term hundreds of times but so far, its only meaning has been ‘the technology is not here yet’. It once was impossible to — you name it. At one time it was all impossible, but when an American is confronted with a problem, the answer although fuzzy, is not too far away. The dictionary says unachievable. Yeah, like the airplane or the light bulb will never work or the Titanic couldn’t sink.

Impossible. Where did the word come from anyway? It is just describing something that as of yet, has not been worked out. In today’s world, with today’s technology, and with an American on the payroll, it is just another solution in the making. Impossible is impossible.

One might say that Bernie is impossible. One might say that ‘it wouldn’t work’. Don’t be too sure about that. It is all in the mechanical apparatus. To believe, one only needs to look at where mechanical contrivance has taken us in today’s world. Of course; by mechanical, one also need to include electronics, hydraulics and other related tackle. Work on it. It will come together. There once was a little engine that thought it could.

CAST OF MAJOR CHARACTERS

Joshua Burke:

The original inventor and designer of the unique modifications to his custom sports vehicle. The one person that is willingly tagged to assist with efforts to secure earths progress.

Bernie:

An unusual piece of machinery that allows flying as well as conventional highway transportation without the customary veneer and open propulsion of air-borne machinery.

Annie Phillips:

Joshua’s growing love interest and possible future soul-mate. A major player in Joshua’s ambitions.

Colonel Milton P. Morrison:

In a curiously bizarre way, he is Joshua’s primary nemesis who is likewise trying to do his job as best that he can to assure peace and safety to the American public.

Damion and Hara:

Permanent residents of an alien planet known as Xabia from the constellation Aerobia, (their names for a distant planetary star system) now inhabiting the temporary Earth satellite Stargus while trying to pull the citizens of a wayward planet out of an impending disaster of which it is reasonably but genuinely unaware.

Harbon:

The central computer/maintainer of public needs that watches over the inhabitants of Stargus and visitors on this remote island in the sky.

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

INTRODUCTION

CAST OF MAJOR CHARACTERS

CHAPTER 1

A TIME OF DISCOVERY

CHAPTER 2

SO THIS IS BERNIE

CHAPTER 3

FINDING TIME FOR US

CHAPTER 4

THE BLIZZARD

CHAPTER 5

THE ENCROACHMENT

CHAPTER 6

BERNIE GETS A MAKEOVER

CHAPTER 7

THE JOURNEY

CHAPTER 8

A WORLD OF DISCOVERY

CHAPTER 9

IF I KNEW YOU WERE COMING, I’D A’ BAKED A CAKE

CHAPTER 10

THE IMBROGLIO

CHAPTER 11

PRESENTING THE OPUS

CHAPTER 12

GOING HOME

CHAPTER 13

A CALL TO DUTY

CHAPTER 14

LIFE AROUND THE OLD HOME TOWN

CHAPTER 15

WHEN THINGS GO WRONG

CHAPTER 16

ANNIE HAS SPRING BREAK

CHAPTER 17

THE PICNIC

CHAPTER 18

THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER?

CHAPTER 19

ANNIE’S APPREHENSION

CHAPTER 20

HEARING FROM STARGUS

CHAPTER 21

JOSHUA APPRAISES THE OVERALL PICTURE

CHAPTER 22

THE CROWDED SKY

CHAPTER 23

THE AIR FORCE PLAN

CHAPTER 24

JOSHUA HAS DOUBTS

CHAPTER 25

THE LOVE OF A PUPPY

CHAPTER 26

ANOTHER CHANCE MEETING

CHAPTER 27

ANNIE, SAY YES

CHAPTER 28

JOSHUA GETS DISCOVERED

CHAPTER 29

MYRNA HAS HER DAY

CHAPTER 30

THE AIR FORCE EFFORT

CHAPTER 31

PREPARATIONS FOR A RETURN TO STARGUS

CHAPTER 32

ALONE IN THE UNIVERSE

CHAPTER 33

A REUNION WITH HARBON

CHAPTER 34

THE WEDDING

CHAPTER 35

BACK TO WORK

CHAPTER 36

GARY KRUPP

CHAPTER 37

HEARING FROM STARGUS

CHAPTER 38

MEETING THE PRESIDENT

CHAPTER 39

THINGS COME TOGETHER

CHAPTER 40

WHAT IT IS ALL ABOUT

CHAPTER 1

A TIME OF DISCOVERY

A late model apple red Corvette sped along State Highway 21 southbound out of Atlanta. It clung confidently to the gentle curves of the road filtering out the many potholes that the heavier daytime traffic created.

The gleaming finish that sparkled under the illuminating highway lighting was a testament to the many hours of a caring owner and his auto wax. An elegant T roof with shaded glass closed out the late-night air.

With recent modifications; five hundred cubic inches created well over five hundred horsepower endowing the glamorous automobile with ample power in reserve several times over, ready for the driver’s beckon call.

A pair of strong hands gripped the steering wheel of the corvette 433 guiding its progress through the maze of road repair leading out of the greater Atlanta metropolitan area. Keen eyes relayed pertinent information that was necessary to keep the vehicle on a safe course. The great love of ‘being as one’ with the automobile kept the mind fresh during the nocturnal episode.

The frequent but random developing potholes seemed to be in competition with the well-engineered rider comfort system that was built into the luxurious automobile.

The occasional interruption to the southbound progress, created by traffic lights, seemed to be more of ‘delight’ than nuisance. The unexpressed pleasure of many and frequent accelerations trumped progress to some obscure destination.

Distinctive well-groomed facial features, a small nose and square chin highlighted the jet black-collar-length hair of the late twenty-year- old captain. A short well-muscled neck offered evidence of a weight lifting regimen. Husky fingers drummed the steering wheel whenever a traffic signal dictated a pause. A long sleeve double-knit sweater somewhat concealed the well-proportioned shoulders and long bulky arms inside. Dark deep set-eyes absorbed all that occurred within his perspective region to update any pertinent information.

As the elegant muscle car approached the next intersection controlled by a red stop light, the confident driver became aware of a second sports automobile already occupying the third lane awaiting the traffic signal that would allow it to proceed.

As he assumed a waiting position in the vacant next lane, an inspecting glance to the left yielded a brief eye contact with the adjoining driver. A quick half grin accompanied a single nod of the head while performing a quick tap on the accelerator communicated a challenge in an unspoken language as decisive and clear as the spoken word. A small response in the form of a returning nod was all that was needed to signify an acceptance to the challenge.

Nervously both drivers fixed their attention on the lagging stoplight. Anticipation grew as the opposing lights switched from green to amber predicting the forthcoming open passage. The predictable pause between the changes drew out the delay.

Suddenly the drivers were facing a green light. The sound of tires scraping the pavement erupted as a blast of thick smoke gushed from beneath the red rear fenders. The putrid smell of burning rubber permeated the intersection as both vehicles lunged forward.

Each vehicle in turn assumed the lead position in an alternating frequency, as the miles per hour quickly increased. A slow advantage proceeded to present itself to the red combatant and its occupant. Slowly but surely, it presented its superiority as it began to out distance the lesser vehicle.

A few seconds later the trailing vehicle gave up in shameful defeat. It certainly had represented itself well but the superior warrior simply presented its dominance in true winning form.

The victorious red corvette soon discontinued its surge and eased back to a more acceptable rate of speed. After all, there was no need to risk detection by a bored police officer after such a glorious victory.

As the champion fought to regain his previous mental state, he returned to a more normal pace and continued on his way. The self- induced conscious effort to regain full control over the surge from his adrenaline glands began to work its magic. A more normal heartbeat began to manifest itself as composure was slowly reestablished.

Full awareness toward the potholes and a more deliberate attempt to elude them returned as part of the navigating process. A long gentle curve led to a small elevation in the terrain. Then as he crested the knoll, he found that he was approaching another red traffic signal.

The middle of the three lanes was occupied much the same as the last traffic halting intersection so, the skillful driver brought his vehicle alongside and to the left of the occupied lane. Curiously, the stalled car appeared very similar to the one in his last encounter.

As the red vehicle neared the waiting line, the driver again cast his vision to the right and the stalled occupant. Perhaps he could dredge up another contest.

Suddenly a look of ‘aha’ came over his face as he looked into the other driver’s eyes. The new challenger certainly looked like his last opponent. But that would be impossible, for no one, least of all his opponent had overtaken him.

Almost instinctively the confused driver repeated the challenging gesture. A small nod of the head while at the same time, gunning his engine moderately in a beaconing manner, produced the identical response as to his last endeavor, leaving both drivers thereafter transfixed on the traffic signal.

Suddenly the green light appeared producing the same response as a white flag at the Indy 500 racetrack. The screeching of tires on the dry pavement instantly drowned out the tremendous roar of the engines.

As the two vehicles lurched forward a thick cloud of dark smoke engulfed the street, temporally concealing the vestige in rubber applied to the pavement. A brief interruption to the tires wail for gear shifting resumed almost instantly as power was reapplied to the wearied tires. The stench of burning rubber filled the driver’s nostrils and their bodies became more deeply embraced by the furniture that held them.

The front bumpers of the two vehicles each exchanged brief but scant leads as the acceleration process continued. Each driver used care to confine his vehicle to their prospective lanes as the velocity increased.

Finally, a slight advantage appeared to be falling to the apple red vehicle as it nosed its way ahead of the silver-gray car. Gradually its superior energy proved to be too much for the lesser combatant. Slowly but surely, it stretched the lead into an outright victory.

Yes, A tremendous roar came screaming from the victorious driver as he thrust his right fist upward in a symbol of conquest. This made it two out of two. A certain attest of supremacy and a true payoff for the long hours spent at fine-tuning the engine to perfection.

The exhilarated driver could no longer contain his jubilance. The adrenaline rush persisted and would not allow his overcharged body to soothe. It was but the skill of his hands that he was capable of maneuvering his vehicle along the three lane-corridor. The glory of victory effectuated his every need.

Suddenly a spark of reality appeared in the face of jubilance. Whoa, back off, the driver told himself as he glanced at his speedometer. Well over one hundred-fifty miles per hour. It was time to back off - now.

Slowly he relieved the pressure on the accelerator pedal bringing the speed gradually down to where he could safely apply the brakes.

The car under the care of the skillful driver soon came into a safe and respectable speed as he maneuvered a gentle curve. Looking forward, keen eyes picked up yet another traffic intersection in which the signal was red.

Braking his vehicle, he approached the stop, changing lanes from the center to the left since the center lane was again occupied. The powerful vehicle screeched to the stop before the crosswalk.

A glance to the right once again served to evaluate the driver in the number two lane. Traumatic shock suddenly replaced the enraptured face as the two sets of eyes met. This was the same face. This was the same car that he had twice thrown to defeat. But here it was, stalled at the intersection ahead of him. Here waiting for his arrival was the guy that he left in a stream of smoking tires, and this was not once but twice that this —.

The delaying red light extinguished, replaced with the green. This time however, the shimmering apple red car remained at the starting line with the driver’s mouth agape. His eyes transfixed on the departing automobile. Slowly the silver-gray vehicle proceeded until it faded from sight among the lights of the street.

It was a sunny late Wednesday afternoon and an uneventful shift for Sergeant Riley Bilford, Bristol County Sheriff, patrolling Interstate 96 west of the greater Saint Louis area. His patrol car now snuggly parked behind a bridge overpass while this radar gun monitored traffic from his rear as it neared his location. The traffic was exceptionally light that day, creating boredom and unproductive efforts. The occasional passing vehicles often went unobserved by the monitoring station while Sergeant Bilford neglectfully fought off the boredom.

Reaching into a small pocket on his uniform pants, he retrieved a small pocketknife that he promptly opened and began pruning his fingernails. The knife being a second choice to a nonexistent pair of fingernail clippers, he began to lightly scratch at the root of the thumbnail.

After a short effort the unobtainable desired results began to become evident. He then made several small slashing gestures as if trying to slice an airborne imaginary fly in half before carefully closing the knife and restoring it to his pocket.

Pulling himself upright in his driver’s position, he abruptly returned to his duties. Glancing into the rear-view mirror and then to the radar monitor, he then visually checked out the local terrain. He gave a few seconds of special interest to a grassy knoll to the right of his location. Perhaps it was the activity of a lively squirrel that had drawn his attention. Seeing nothing of real relevancy, he returned to his mirrors.

An approaching sports car in the right lane of traffic prompted the officer to focus his attention back to his radar. The readout was sixty-nine miles per hour. Not worthy of pursuit but over the sixty-five-speed limit.

Oh well, the officer thought as he installed his sunglasses to his face, it’s time to move on somewhere else anyway. Let’s just pull up behind this guy and put a little chill up his spine.

The officer quickly started his engine, pulled the transmission into gear as the silver-gray Ford Mustang passed his location. Emerging from his semi-concealment and into the left lane of traffic, he quickly began pursuit.

The expected response of the passing car to slow down was however not to be the reality. Instead, a sudden acceleration brought a quick smile to Sergeant Bilford’s face.

Oh, that is gonna cost you, fella. He muttered as he quickly responded by jamming the accelerator pedal of his patrol car to the floor. The huge engine began to roar as the officer moved to overtake the violator. To his surprise, his vehicle was not immediately overtaking the quickly responding sports car.

Sergeant Bilford quickly reached for the microphone on the squad car’s two way-radio and bellowed. Headquarters, this is car 215. I am east bound-I-96 at the 744 mile- marker. I am in pursuit of a gray Ford Mustang. He then hesitated briefly. With no tag numbers at this time. Doing eighty-plus miles per hour. I’ll keep you informed.

A male voice responded quickly filling the officer’s vehicle. Ten- four 215, Are you requesting backup at this time?

Negative. Sergeant Bilford returned. Just some jerk thinking he can outrun the law. I’ll have him nailed in two minutes. 215 out.

At this, Sergeant Bilford turned on his emergency lights and siren.

A few seconds of further pursuit resulted in no change to the fleeing vehicle except for a possible widening of the gap between the two automobiles.

After a few more seconds of pursuit, Sergeant Bilford once again picked up his mic. Headquarters, this is 215. I am getting no response to my ten-thirty-six. It looks like this guy’s got a heap in there and is gonna ‘rabbit’. He must have some kind of death wish or something’.

Ten-four 215. The same voice from headquarters responded. Keep us posted.

Ten-four. Sergeant Bilford answered.

The radio again returned with the male voice. All squads, I repeat, all squads go to six and stay attention for possible backup along highway 96. Anyone in the area, look out for a gray Mustang. No report of a license number. — Traveling east-bound-96 at a high rate of speed. Headquarters out.

Sergeant Bilford glanced quickly at his speed-o-meter and then back at the leading vehicle while he firmly gripped the steering wheel. One Hundred and twenty miles per hour. He gasped. This guy is serious. What’s he got in that Mustang anyway?

The officer quickly realized that he was not going to catch the fleeing vehicle by himself. It was fully evident that he was losing ground and it didn’t seem too wise to continue pursuit at these speeds.

Carefully picking up the mic, he once again called the station. Headquarters, Squad 215, you had better set up a road block. This guy ain’t gonna stop and I can’t keep up. I’m loosing him. Over

Squad 215, ten-four. I’ll see what I can do. We have two cars in the area of County Highway F. That is some thirty miles from your location. If he continues that far, we should be able to cut him off somewhere near there. Over

You had better make that a road block, H Q. It looks like this guy ain’t stopping for a rolling squad. Sergeant Bilford responded.

Ten-four 215. The voice came back.

The radio remained silent for the next two minutes at which time headquarters again broke in. Squad 215, we have squads 245 and 117 converging on the area of highway F and 96 at this time. We also have local police officials en-route to that location. They will set up a roadblock there. Do you have a license number yet, 215?

Negative, H Q. Negative on that license number. I believe there were no plates on the vehicle. What about a helicopter, do we have something available?

Negative, two-one-five. He will be well past Highway F before we can get a chopper off the ground. We’ll just have to hope he continues his present route. Can you maintain visual contact?

Negative Headquarters, the best that I can do now is keep watch on the exit ramps. If he slows down to exit, I can possibly spot him.

Ten-four 215.

Sergeant Ralston Pierce of squad 117 was the first on the scene at the junction of Highway I-96 and County Trunk F. He quickly turned on his emergency lights and placed his vehicle in such a manner as to effectively block passage on the right lane.

The interstate highway was designed with County F passing over the interstate. A barricade between the east-and-west bound traffic effectively blocked off the median.

Within one minute Sergeant Brandon Belgrade and Corporal Timothy Wilson arrived in squad 245 with their emergency lights flashing. Sergeant Belgrade pulled his vehicle into the remaining lane and turned at an angle, closing off passage completely. At the same time, Gracetown’s local police chief Jeffery Zubler arrived at the intersection of Highway F and the off ramp. Carelessly maneuvering his vehicle against normal traffic, he began to proceed to the west most limit and intersecting point at State Highway 96. It was here that he actuated his emergency lights and placed his vehicle effectively blocking egress.

Each officer exited their respective vehicles and assumed a position between oncoming traffic and their vehicles.

Here he comes. Chief Zubler yelled into his hand-held radio as he spotted an oncoming vehicle.

A few seconds passed before the approaching vehicle became more visible.

That ain’t him. Sergeant Pierce’s voice retorted. We are looking for a gray car, not a red one.

All eyes remained glued to the red Nissan as it neared and then passed the County F exit ramp slowing down in respect to the police vehicles in its path.

Suddenly all of their attentions were drawn to a speeding silver- gray sports car as it flashed past Chief Zubler’s position.

Look out, Corporal Wilson cried. He ain’t going to stop. He is coming too fast.

Instinctively each officer lunged for the relative safety of the bridge abutment disregardful of their vehicles.

As the officers gained refuge from their impending demolished vehicles, they quickly returned their attention to the swiftly approaching suicidal vehicle but, to their amazement, the car was no longer on the highway. Instead, it remained speeding while ascending upward. The sudden levitation elevated the fleeing car over the red Nissan, and over the crossing highway bridge roadway.

The flabbergasted officers suddenly reversed the direction of attention. As they looked on, the runaway vehicle returned to the pavement with a light thud and continued on its way. The astounded officers watch in disbelief while their revolvers dangled loosely in their grips and the fugitive vehicle disappeared from view.

CHAPTER 2

SO THIS IS BERNIE

The morning was well on its way when Joshua emerged from the doorway of his two-story traditional styled home and headed toward a detached four-car garage. The typical country farmyard was completely devoid of farm animals or machinery, long since succumbed to the financial woes that so many farmers experienced. The mid Wisconsin cattle farm no longer tilled in favor of achieving outside income sources was well kept despite its progress into obsolescence.

This was a beautiful morning with a fragrance of lilac complementing the gentle breeze that was making its journey through the yard. Sparrows enjoyed the freedom of play as they jumbled about trying to outdo one-another with song. A lone hawk circled lazily in the cloud-free sky riding the air currents to new heights above the greening landscape.

The distant high-pitched squeak from an abandoned wind- mill one mile to the north permeated the air in an off-and-on sequence as its wheel cede to the gentle breeze.

To the east, lay an open clover field fresh with flourishing growth. The gravel driveway leading to the Burke farm from the south cut its way through an open field that for so many years rendered the grain of a farmer’s needs. The west trailed off with pastureland leading to a small creek that twisted its way through the farm landscape. The distance displayed a grove of virgin jack pines against the glacial formed bluff. The view north, though obstructed by a huge white vacant barn, furnished a gentle climb in the terrain with a wooded boundary on the horizon.

Joshua’s excursion to the garage some eighty feet from the side porch was hurried. He was eager to get to work on Bernie, his pet’s name for his late model Ford Mustang G T coupe. Recent modifications required that he provide all maintenance himself. Newly discovered handling characteristics of his car required his immediate attention.

Although he had successfully achieved far better results with Bernie than he had originally hoped, he knew of several design modifications that needed to be tweaked.

Once inside the walk-in entrance, Joshua opened the first overhead garage door letting in the warm fresh air and flooding the room with sunlight. The Ford Mustang occupied the immediate bay, which was long enough for two full-sized automobiles.

The second bay with its separate overhead door accommodated a drive-on hoist for an automobile. At the far end of the enclosure, a workbench that was well stocked with mechanics tools, an air compressor, and a lathe furnished the wall.

Joshua circled the vehicle on his initial inspection to ferret out any blemishes that might have developed. A little pride made its way into Joshua’s senses as he recalled his original intent. The progress beyond those early ideas was steady and in fact overwhelming.

The many miles that he was required to drive in his job left him on many occasions tied up in traffic that always seemed to go nowhere. The loss of time waiting for stalled traffic and accidents gave him the incentive mentally to create alternative methods to the traffic jams.

Joshua certainly wasn’t the first person, who while encased in a parade of stalled cars, wishes that he could simply levitate his automobile out of the current crowd and place it on an open portion of the expressway a few hundred feet away.

It was this childlike wish that Joshua credited for the mental stir that sparked his creativity in the first place. He soon found himself calling on his many years as a farmer’s son grappling with an aged grain combine, struggling with the old Chevy’s brakes, and scuffling with an indolent furnace to develop his mechanical aptitude. A much- needed prelude complementing his new found training with computer equipment guiding his creativity.

Now after four years of designing, developing, refining, and testing, Bernie was to the stage where it was fully trust-worthy and becoming increasingly useful. Fully highway capable, Bernie looked and operated in all respects identical to a fresh from the factory Ford Mustang G T coupe with markings to reflect the V8 4.6-liter engine with sequential electronic fuel injection.

The body was in silver metalloid gray with fully tinted glass that at first glance concealed the leather trimmed sport bucket seats and luxurious interior.

Behind its appearance, Joshua had concealed his own creative innovations that far exceeded that childish dream. A development that could render modern day transportation obsolete should it become public.

Departing from the normal machinery aptitude, his invention exerted no energy against the atmosphere or surface, was completely self-contained within the enclosure that housed the machinery. It neither used nor required external intervention. The energy produced could be applied in any direction in respect to the position of the automobile within its environment. One five-horse-powered gasoline engine provided torque to drive the mechanism, which emitted the only exhaust to the outside of the craft. Unique muffler modifications restored originality to the quieted engine’s auditory stimulation. The idea of an optional electric engine was dismissed because of the limitations that it placed on achievable mileage.

The basic mechanical aspect of Joshua’s creation utilized but two moving parts that worked in conjunction to supply the creative dynamic one directional force circumventing gravity and quiescent position.

The resultant effect soon proved to greatly outperform Joshua’s own early expectations. With more versatility and more reliability than was originally hoped, Bernie quickly became a valuable creation and tool for his work.

Recent testing had provided Joshua with some of the limitations to which Bernie was bound. With levitation capability to several G forces, hovering stationary and accelerated lift-off was easily accomplished after little experience. Once hovering, movement in any direction was achieved with minute ease.

Top speed was limited by structural stability. The original design that was built into the body could withstand no more drag and buffeting than that which three hundred miles per hour would effectuate.

Maximum elevation depended upon the operator’s ability to avoid hypoxia, a condition where the body is not receiving sufficient oxygen, and a test that Joshua was unwilling to challenge.

Joshua had concocted the name Bernie for no particular reason except that it would be easier to think of his car and its modifications by name. Bernie was the first name that came to mind and the name Bernie was no more unnatural than Bernie itself had become.

There had however, begun of late, an aspect that presented itself to Joshua that he had not anticipated. It seemed that his appearance in flight was having a disturbing effect on the general public. The newly formed reports of an automobile in the sky were taking on a life of its own.

Joshua had always tried to maintain an anonymous aspect to his unusual mode of transportation in that he tried to take off and land in seclusion. If he was going to develop Bernie to full potential, then he was not going to have time for the poking and prodding of curious minds. The time would come when Bernie could be released to the general public however, for now Bernie must not be discovered.

The aspect of the problem existed in the fact that the media had began fixating on these reports and drawing the conclusion that an alien race of humanoids were intergrading into the civil population for who knows what purpose. In general, the media began to regard these sightings as some kind of invasion, suggesting no purpose other than of gloom.

This newfound envisage placed Joshua in a surreptitious position of concealment at all costs. He simply must disassociate himself from these reports.

Slowly Joshua circumnavigated the vehicle with a soft cloth in hand. He carefully buffed away any soiled blotches, and continued by checking for stone chips on the quarter panels and evaluating the wax finish as he proceeded. He then opened the left door, reached in to find the remote hood latch and popped the hood. The hood bounced ajar to the safety mechanism and remained awaiting Joshua’s completion of the opening process.

The engine compartment revealed a total departure from stock equipment. The standard 4.6 liter-V8 engine as well as the 5 speed- manual overdrive transmission had been removed while Joshua’s own creation occupied the vacated space. Other alterations although not visible from this location were equally concealed from exterior observation.

Methodically Joshua inspected each important apparatus in an orderly fashion moving across and back until he was satisfied with all segments of the engine compartment.

As Joshua continued his examination, a distant rolling sound filled his ears. The sound became immediately familiar and indicated that an automobile was approaching the farm via the Burke gravel driveway.

Joshua gently closed the hood on his Mustang and gazed beyond the open door toward the oncoming vehicle. A cloud of dust surrounded the full size dark blue Buick sedan as it sped on its way toward the Burke farmyard.

Colonel Stokes, Joshua muttered as he exited the garage. A smile covered his face and pleasant memories of a dear old friend flooded his mind. The one person who could be a comrade in his struggle to introduce Bernie to the world was making a visit.

Mister Stokes, as Joshua had always referred to him in childhood, was a neighbor and friend of Clarence Burke, Joshua’s father during their youthful years. This friendship continued to grow through their young lives and into their formative years. They remained the best of friends right up to the time that Joshua’s parents died in a commercial aircraft disaster seven years earlier. It was this close relationship thereafter that helped Joshua through this time of great need. Mr. Stokes simply took over to fill the void that was created by the tragedy.

Joshua never doubted the validity of his father’s many stories because Mr. Stokes, Morris as his dad referred to him, certainly reflected an air of respect and was always in a commanding leadership role.

In 1960, the two buddies decided to join the Air Force together. It was at this time that Clarence found out that he had a problem with his heart. Although he tried everything imaginable, the Air Force rejected his active duty.

There certainly was no problem for Morris and his enlistment. Joshua always wondered whether it was his flamboyant personality or his sheer skills that perpetuated his career. There were just no objects that interfered with his goals.

Joshua could still hear his father’s voice relaying the many stories of his own personal hero over and over again. Stories that he listened to earnestly each time as if the outcome might change. The guy had chutzpah. Clarence used to proclaim. There ain’t nobody with chutzpah like Old Morris.

During his war years, Morris developed within the Armed Service. He was issued several medals including the Distinguished Medal of Honor, the Flying Cross and at least one Purple Heart. It was Joshua’s understanding that Morris was shot down over Viet Nam and taken prisoner for eleven days while serving in the war. The Colonel would however, never talk about his imprisonment or subsequent escape, but a certain sadness always surrounded Morris relative to this period.

In later years, Joshua came to know his friend as Colonel Stokes. Just what his duties were at this time was unknown to Joshua, but there was a lot of respect for and surrounding his service.

Joshua mulled over in his mind the prospect of revealing his secret to his most adored friend as they approached in the driveway. It was as if his father was coming to his rescue at a time of need. Their handshake was a familiar grasp of one another’s wrist and repeated up and down movements as each lightly placed their left hand on the back of their buddy’s right hand.

The Colonel had the familiar wide grin on his face as