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Friday, January 2, 2009
Christmas lights
I saw these lights on Euclid between 13th and 14th, pretty big set-up. Anybody see any other big displays, or set up your own?
1 comment:
I look at that display every
year. It makes me smile.
Better to look at than the compost
heap next door!
Happy New Year.
- January 2, 2009 at 7:40 PM
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Oskar Blues is going down under.
The Colorado-headquartered brewery yesterday announced plans to begin exporting its six core beers — Dale's Pale Ale, Mama's Little Yella Pils, Pinner Throwback IPA, Oskar Blues IPA, Old Chub Scotch Ale and Beerito Mexican lager — to Australia in July.
The company has entered into an agreement with Phoenix Beers, a leading importer and distributor of more than 300 beers from around the world.
"We feel that our cans and kegs of American craft-brewed flavor will be a great fit for the Aussies, and, considering that our newest IPA – Oskar Blues IPA – is made with all-Australian hops from Bushy Park Estates in Tasmania and Rostrevor Farms in Victoria, we think that the timing couldn't be any better. It's like a homecoming… for our hops," Tim Matthews, Oskar Blues' director of brewing operations, said in press release.
A number of Southern Hemisphere launch events are planned, Oskar Blues said, and details will be announced via the company's social channels in the coming weeks.
Earlier this year, Oskar Blues, which operates a second brewing facility in Brevard, N.C. and is planning to open a third brewery in Austin, expanded distribution into North Dakota, South Dakota and Oklahoma.
The brewery's products are currently sold in 49 U.S. states, Washington D.C. as well as parts of Canada, Sweden and the U.K.
Oskar Blues made 192,000 barrels of beer in 2015. The company, together with Boston-area private equity firm Fireman Capital Partners, now owns Florida's Cigar City Brewing, Michigan's Perrin Brewing and the Utah Brewers Cooperative — which includes the Wasatch and Squatters brands. The five companies make up "Oskar Blues Holding Co.," which Fireman Capital owns a majority stake in. Collectively, the group produced more than 320,000 barrels in 2015 and was ranked as the 14th largest craft brewing entity by trade group the Brewers Association.

subset: commoncrawl


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The duty to make reasonable adjustments for disabled workers requires employers to consider what is "reasonable". But how can employers make sure they stay on the right side of this requirement? We round up five examples where the courts and tribunals found that the duty was triggered.
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Medical Devices Market Research Reports & Industry Analysis
Medical devices are classified in one of three regulatory classes, the classification is dependent on the intended use of the device and indications for use. The US accounts for approximately 38% of the global medical device market. China, Japan, Russia and Brazil have the most stringent regulatory compliance for medical devices. Research can be found within market research industry reports which will further outline economic industry trends, device regulation globally and challenges facing medical device leaders.
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Medical Devices Industry Research & Market Reports
Fluid Management Systems Global Market – Forecast To 2023
... level is associated with severe complications; hence preserving the fluid levels is carried out by special devices or monitors known as fluid management systems. Fluid management systems are the devices employed to balance the blood ... Read More
Breast Pump Market: Global Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecast 2017-2022
... discomfort but also helps to keep infection at bay while the expressed milk can be used to feed the baby later. Breast pumps are very useful for working women who cannot nurse their babies constantly ... Read More
Bioadhesive Market: Global Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecast 2017-2022
... glues formed using biological intermediates such as cellulose, starch or gelatin. In recent years, the popularity of bioadhesives has increased as they are environment-friendly and produced from renewable resources as opposed to synthetic adhesives. Owing ... Read More
Optical Instrument and Lens (including Medical Devices) Manufacturing Industry (U.S.): Analytics, Extensive Financial Benchmarks, Metrics and Revenue Forecasts to 2024, NAIC 333314
... that will save countless hours of research. Key Findings: Optical Instrument and Lens (including Medical Devices) Manufacturing Industry (U.S.) to reach $6,432 million by 2024. Optical Instrument and Lens (including Medical Devices) Manufacturing Industry, including ... Read More
Body Contouring Market: Global Industry Trends, Share, Size, Growth, Opportunity and Forecast 2017-2022
... significant amount of weight. This excess of fat is mostly present in body parts such as torso, upper arms, chest or thighs. Body contouring is done with the aim of attaining a more natural or ... Read More
Blood Collection Market by Product (Serum Tube, Plasma Tube, EDTA, Heparin, Coagulation, Glucose, Needle, Lancet, ESR, Syringe, Blood Bag), Method (Manual, Automated), End User (Hospital, Blood Bank Center, Academics, Home Care) - Global Forecast to 2022
... to 2022 "Global blood collection market projected to grow at CAGR of 5.5%." The global blood collection market is projected to reach USD 10.59 billion by 2022 from USD 8.10 billion in 2017, growing at ... Read More
Global Internal Urinary Catheters Market 2017-2021
... deformities such as the abnormal function of the lower urinary tract, overactive bladder, bladder disorders, spinal cord injury, multiple sclerosis, and spina bifida. In older people, the incontinence is associated with multiple factors such as ... Read More
Surgical Imaging Market by Technology (Image Intensifier C-arms, Flat Panel Detector C-arms (FPD C-arms)), Application (Orthopaedic & Trauma Surgeries, Neurosurgeries, Cardiovascular Surgeries), and Region - Global Forecasts to 2022
... to grow at a CAGR of 5.5%." The global surgical imaging market is projected to reach USD 1.63 billion by 2022 from an estimated value of USD 1.25 billion in 2017, at a CAGR of ... Read More
Global Orthopedics Market 2021: Leading Supplier Strategies, Marketing Tactics, and Technological Know How
... categories. In addition, the report presents a concise review of the major U.S. and international trends with potentially significant impact on the orthopedics market during the next five years, including industry consolidation, market globalization, environmental ... Read More
Global Coronary Artery Bypass Grafts (CABG) Market 2017-2021
... a severe coronary heart disease (CHD). CHD is a disease that leads to deposition of plaque inside arteries and disrupts the flow of oxygen to the heart. During the CABG procedure, a healthy artery or ... Read More
Ukraine Medical Devices Q1 2018
... a slightly slower rate in US dollar terms due to local currency depreciation. Increasing economic activity will support market growth. Demand for medical equipment is largely met by imports due to the under-capitalised domestic industry. Read More
Lithuania Medical Devices Q1 2018
... over the 2016-2021 forecast period, with slightly higher growth in US dollar terms on the back of a stronger outlook for the euro. We expect government commitments to improving healthcare provision to contribute to growth. Read More
Chile Medical Devices Q1 2018
... reliant on imports as production is limited. Chile has generally avoided regional full membership in trading blocs such as MERCOSUR or CAN, preferring bilateral agreements such as its FTA with the US, which will continue ... Read More
Egypt Medical Devices Q1 2018
... but there is enormous potential for growth as the country has the largest population in the Arab world. The massive devaluation of the Egyptian pound will result in a substantial jump in inflation, fuelling local ... Read More
India Medical Devices Q1 2018
... markets, as reflected in our Medical Devices Risk/Reward Index (RRI). South Korea and China offer the highest Industry Rewards, supported by large market sizes, high production capability and high per capita spending in South Korea. Read More
Smiths Medical - Strategic SWOT Analysis Review
... key competitors and major products and services. This up-to-the-minute company report will help you to formulate strategies to drive your business by enabling you to understand your partners, customers and competitors better. Scope Business description ... Read More
Belarus Medical Devices Q1 2018
... modest economic cyclical upswing. Conversely, due to the depreciation of the Belarusian ruble, the market will grow moderately in US dollar terms, while per capita device expenditure will remain one of the lowest in Europe. Read More
Medical and Surgical Equipment in France: ISIC 3311
... the Medical and Surgical Equipment market at a national level. It provides the latest retail sales data, allowing you to identify the sectors driving growth. It identifies the leading companies, the leading brands and offers ... Read More
Shinva Medical Instrument Co Ltd (600587) - Financial and Strategic SWOT Analysis Review
... bring to you a clear and an unbiased view of the company's key strengths and weaknesses and the potential opportunities and threats. The profile helps you formulate strategies that augment your business by enabling you ... Read More
Iran Medical Devices Q1 2018
... to the depreciation of the rial. Following the removal of most sanctions in 2016, imports will rise, together with domestic production, but performance will likely be tempered by low oil prices and the country's lack ... Read More
Singapore Medical Devices Q1 2018
... government financial backing for the healthcare sector , new healthcare development projects and a well-established medical tourism industry. The country will strengthen its status as a distribution hub for the region despite adverse trading conditions. Read More
Verisante Technology Inc (VRS) - Financial and Strategic SWOT Analysis Review
... you a clear and an unbiased view of the company's key strengths and weaknesses and the potential opportunities and threats. The profile helps you formulate strategies that augment your business by enabling you to understand ... Read More
Home Healthcare Market by Product (BP & Heart Rate Monitor, Ovulation Kit, HIV Test, ECG, Nebulizer, Hearing Aids, Pedometer, Cane, Crutches, Wheelchair), Software, Services (Rehabilitation, Pregnancy, Palliative), & Telehealth - Global Forecast to 2022
... "The global home healthcare market projected to grow at a CAGR of 8.8%." The global home healthcare market is expected to reach USD 364.69 billion by 2022 from USD 239.30 billion in 2017, at a ... Read More
Global Fluoropolymer Market in Healthcare Industry 2017-2021
... and are characterized by high resistance to acids, bases, and solvents. Various fluoropolymer products such as polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE), polyvinylidene difluoride (PVDF), fluorinated ethylene propylene (FEP), ethylene tetrafluoroethylene (ETFE), polychlorotrifluoroethylene (PCTFE), polyvinyl fluoride (PVF), ethylene chlorotrifluoroethylene ... Read More
Nerve Repair and Regeneration Market by Application (Neurorrhaphy, Nerve Grafting, Stem Cell Therapy, Neurostimulation Surgery), Products (Biomaterials, Nerve Conduits, Nerve Protectors, Nerve Wraps, Neurostimulation Devices) - Global Forecast to 2022
... regeneration market is expected to reach USD 10.59 million by 2022 from USD 5.79 billion in 2017, at a CAGR of 12.9%. Factors such as increasing number of neurological disorders, technological advancements, and rising geriatric ... Read More


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Back to the jardin des Plantes in Paris, to rediscover the Ménagerie, a unique zoo the oldest in the world after that of Shönbrunn. The Ménagerie was officially opened in 1794. The zoo is a an architectural gem of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Walking around the Ménagerie is like stepping back in time. The Monkey house was built in 1805 and the impressive Reptile House built in 1870. Strolling in the Reptile House with its carved crocodile pit and the wooden glass cupboards recalling some Cabinet of Curiosities definitely give that feeling of being in a Victorian era.
Another orientalist nineteenth century style is the birdhouse home to the scarlet Ibis built in 1827.
This small zoo has also some endangered species with some animals that are born this year amongst them are the red pandas, 2 baby panthers (kailin and gaya) and a baby camel. Another interesting visit is the Vivarium built in 1926 home to insects and amphibians. Here are some images during my walk around this fabulous historic zoo.
Categories: France


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Fiber optic connectors are a substantial fragment of the global telecommunication industry. Optical fibers are joined using fiber optic connectors, which allow the light conduction between two consecutive optical fibers. An additional im…
The report provides an in-depth analysis of the U.S. hardwood veneer and plywood market. It presents the latest data of the market size and volume, domestic production, exports and imports, price dynamics and turnover in the industry. In addition, the report contains insightful information about the industry, including industry life cycle, business locations, productivity, employment and many other crucial aspects. The Company Profiles section contains relevant data on the major players in the industry.
Countries coverage: the U.S.
Product coverage: Hardwood veneer, including veneer backed with paper, cloth, or other flexible material; Hardwood plywood, excluding prefinished hardwood plywood made from purchased hardwood plywood; Prefinished hardwood plywood made from purchased hardwood plywood; Hardwood plywood type products; Hardwood veneer and plywood manufacturing, nsk, total
Companies mentioned:
Columbia Forest Products, Columbia Forest Products Corporation, Smith Family Companies, Veneer Technologies, States Industries, Decorative Panels International, Mt. Baker Products, Rutland Plywood Corp., The Freeman Corporation, Marion Plywood Corporation, David R. Webb Company, Nmsa, International Timber and Veneer, Miller Veneers, Amos-Hill Associates, Swaner Hardwood Co., Manthei, Murphy Company, Ferche Millwork, Standard Plywoods, Incorporated, Swanson Group Mfg., Coldwater Veneer, Birchwood Lumber & Veneer Co., Plycraft Industries, Bessemer Plywood Corp., Davis Wood Products, Timber Products Michigan Limited Partnership, Danzer Services, Northern Michigan Veneers, Columbia Plywood Corporation, Plum Creek Northwest Plywood, Coastal Plywood Company, Ivc USA Inc.
Data coverage:
- Market size;
- Domestic production, value of shipments;
- Key market players and their profiles;
- Exports, imports and trade balance;
- Import and export prices;
- Forecast of the market dynamics in the medium term;
- Key industry statistics;
- Life cycle of the industry;
- Number of establishments and their locations;
- Employment data;
- Industry productivity.
Reasons to buy this report:
- Take advantage of the latest data;
- Find deeper insights into current market developments;
- Discover vital success factors affecting the market.


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Went to Linden Hills and noticed that most produce was at least a dollar more per pound or unit than at Whole Foods.
It seems to me that Linden Hills prices rose once they moved - on every item. I only go to The Wedge when I need spices (and only in the early morning since getting in and out of that parking lot is sheer madness). Since I rarely buy produce there, I have not compared prices.
I realize Whole Foods is not at all in the model of co-operative buying and that I am comparing apples to appaloosas. Still, I was surprised at the difference.
Food prices are rising. Just wondering if co-ops are the leading edge of the rise.


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TTCMA and diet
View Single Post
April 9th, 2013, 11:32 AM
Mega Super Mommy
Join Date: Jan 2010
Location: Chicago Suburbs
Posts: 1,696
As long as you eating healthfully it's ok to watch your calories. It isn't ok to only eat 1000 calories a day and have it all be chips and soda, you know
When I was TTC my DS (and losing weight) I was eating on average 1200-1400 calories a day, but it was all (ok mostly
) nutritious foods and was working out. As long as you are nourishing your body and eating when you feel hungry it's all good.
PS- I've since gained most of my weight back since having my DS, so I am really preaching to myself here haha!
Our TTC journey:
Months of testing & Clomid cycles ending with Clomid 150mg+trigger+IUI=
in December 2009!
DS born August 29th, 2010 in a drug free natural whirlwind of a labor!
Round 2- 2013
Two failed Clomid cycles in May-June of 2013 followed by35 days of Follistim at gradually building levels + trigger+IUI=
in August 2013!
It's a boy! DS#2 due April 28th, 2014!
Born via planned C-section April 22nd,2014 due to being breech
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Find all posts by Luvgreen19


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by keelsnMore
19 plays
This game supports Lesson 7 in The Hadley School for the Blind's Contracted Braille Course.
Modified: Oct 30, 2017
< 5 votes
Send a shoutout about this game
A shoutout is a way of letting people know of a game you want them to play.
Just pick an audience, or yourself, and it'll end up in their incoming play queue.
Also try: Swenglish, Dutchlish or Portutalian?
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PurposeGamesCreate, Play, and Learn
PurposeGames lets you create and play games. Students, teachers and rockstars alike all come here to create and learn. Give it a try!
This is a quiz called Dot 5 Initial Letter ContractionsJust point and click to play this knowledge game


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Tigers still looking to add pitching depth
DETROIT -- The Tigers have spent just under $270 million in free agency this offseason, including the now-official six-year, $132.75 contract with outfielder Justin Upton. And yet, they might not be done.
Before owner Mike Ilitch last week authorized the payroll bump it would take to sign Upton, showing a willingness to pay the eventual luxury-tax penalty, general manager Al Avila noted bullpen depth alongside outfield help as his late-offseason needs. The outfield is now set, but the desire for another pitcher apparently remains.
Detroit might not flex its financial muscles quite so much to fill it, but with Major League relievers still available, Avila isn't resting on what he has accomplished in his first offseason as GM. When asked what Upton's arrival does for the team and its chances of winning, Avila cited the need for depth.
"We could bring Babe Ruth here tomorrow and it's not going to guarantee a championship here," Avila said. "It's going to take the entire roster. … It's going to be a team effort.
"Guys are going to get injured, and guys are going to struggle at times, and we have to get through that. That's why I like the depth. I like the depth in the infield. I like the depth in the outfield. I'd still like to have more depth in pitching, truth be told. But it's adequate right now."
Asked later if he was referring to starting pitching or relief depth, Avila said, "In general."
The rotation seems set with the additions of free agents Jordan Zimmermann and Mike Pelfrey. Avila has made a point of leaving one spot open for a young pitcher, with lefty Daniel Norris expected to get every look at the first opportunity.
The bullpen need seems more obvious. The late innings now rest on the arms of Francisco Rodriguez, Mark Lowe and Justin Wilson, recent acquisitions all. Beyond that, Alex Wilson and Blaine Hardy are all but assured of jobs, with Drew VerHagen holding a strong position for another spot. That still leaves at least one spot open.
Detroit has no shortage of young arms to compete for it, from enigmatic Bruce Rondon to converted starters Kyle Ryan, Buck Farmer and possibly Shane Greene. Even top starting prospect Michael Fulmer could compete for a spot, though he's likely to begin the season at Triple-A Toledo.
The remaining free-agent relief market includes former Tigers prospects Burke Badenhop and Jason Frasor from the right side, along with Matt Belisle, Tyler Clippard, Tommy Hunter, Casey Janssen, Joel Peralta, Dale Thayer and Ryan Webb, to name a few. The left side includes Craig Breslow, Brian Duensing, Sean Marshall, Franklin Morales, Eric O'Flaherty and Manny Parra.
Marte designated to make room for Upton
The Tigers had to open a spot on their 40-man roster to add Upton. Jefry Marte, the former Minor League signee who helped fill Miguel Cabrera's void during the slugger's midseason DL stint, was moved, his contract designated for assignment.
The 24-year-old Marte homered in his first Major League start, on July 8 at Seattle, and held his own for somebody who hadn't batted above Double-A until last year. The corner infielder batted .213 (17-for-80) in Detroit with four homers and 11 RBIs, walking eight times against 22 strikeouts. He also batted .275 (98-for-357) for Toledo with 25 doubles, 15 homers and 65 RBIs.
Detroit has 10 days to trade, release or outright Marte to the Minor Leagues. He has enough seasons in the Minors to become a Minor League free agent, which is how he found his way into the Tigers' farm system last offseason.
Does Upton deal affect Martinez?
Though Upton's contract is expected to put the Tigers into luxury-tax territory this season and possibly next, Avila gave no indication it would rule out a long-term contract for Detroit's other starting corner outfielder.
Before Ilitch authorized the payroll boost to pursue a top free agent, J.D. Martinez was expected to get the largest contract for a Tigers outfielder this winter. The 38-homer slugger is on track to become a free agent in two years, the same offseason Upton can exercise his opt-out clause.
The Tigers and Martinez were $2 million apart in their arbitration proposals last Friday. Avila had made no secret of his desire to sign Martinez long-term. He was less open on Wednesday.
"I can't really comment on the negotiations with J.D. Martinez," Avila said. "I hope for the best, because we love J.D. Martinez. As you know, I have a good history with him, and I think he's a very important part of this team."
Upton's status beyond 2017 with the opt-out would seem to have a major impact on Martinez. If Upton chooses to stay, the payroll is dramatically different. If he goes, he could potentially join Anibal Sanchez, Ian Kinsler, Lowe and Pelfrey on the open market.
"Obviously we have him for this year and next year through arbitration," Avila said of Martinez, "but we're hoping we can make a deal with J.D., and we're hoping for the best."
Jason Beck is a reporter for MLB.com. Read Beck's Blog, follow him on Twitter @beckjason and listen to his podcast. This story was not subject to the approval of Major League Baseball or its clubs.


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President Emeritus
Douglas M. Johnston is President Emeritus and founder of the International Center for Religion & Diplomacy.
A distinguished graduate of the U.S. Naval Academy, Dr. Johnston holds a Master's Degree in Public Administration and Ph.D. in Political Science from Harvard University and has served in senior positions in both the public and private sectors. Among his government assignments, he was Deputy Assistant Secretary of the Navy; Director of Policy Planning and Management in the Office of the Secretary of Defense; and planning officer with the President's Office of Emergency Preparedness. He has taught courses in international security at Harvard and was the founding director of the university's Executive Program in National and International Security. Dr. Johnston is a Captain in the Naval Reserve and, at the age of 27, was the youngest officer in the navy to qualify for command of a nuclear submarine.
Prior to his current position, Dr. Johnston served as Executive Vice President and COO of the Washington-based Center for Strategic and International Studies. In addition to his managerial duties, he chaired the Center's Preventive Diplomacy Program and its Maritime Studies program. His publications include Religion, the Missing Dimension of Statecraft (1994); Foreign Policy into the 21st Century: the U.S. Leadership Challenge (1996); Faith-based Diplomacy: Trumping Realpolitik (2003); Religion, Terror, and Error: U.S. Foreign Policy and the Challenge of Spiritual Engagement; and Religion and Foreign Affairs: Essential Readings (2012).
In 2011, Religion, Terror, and Error won the "Book of the Year Award" by Foreword Reviews, the rating agency for universities and independent publishers. In October 2014, Dr. Johnston was honored by Georgetown University on the 20th Anniversary of the publication of his earlier work Religion, the Missing Dimension of Statecraft. In February 2015, he received the inaugural Distinguished Scholar Award for Religion and International Affairs from the International Studies Association.
Dr. Johnston's hands-on experience in the political/military arena coupled with his work in preventive diplomacy, has guided ICRD's efforts to bridge religion and politics in support of peacemaking in Sudan, Kashmir, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Syria, Yemen, Colombia and Saudi Arabia. He holds an Honorary Doctorate in Humane Letters and in 2008 was identified in a leading Christian journal as "The Father of Faith-based Diplomacy."
"Life is a miracle and should be treated as such."
~ Douglas Johnston


text: As some of you may know I got my Evo 4G stolen about 2 weeks ago. I got another one yesterday from Asurion & decided what the hell, there is nothing on it now...just root it. So I did. I've been looking at post for a while about rooting so I had the process down packed when it was time to actually do it. I liked Fresh's ROM (Partly because I call myself Fr35h Prync3) but Also because I liked what was promised to me from the post. So I installed his ROM. FreshROM 126.96.36.199. But after 3 hours of usage I could see that everything was fine except for my battery life. It never changed. It still drains VERY fast and I didn't even install the facebook app. All I wanna know is EXACTLY how to Configure my phone with SetCPU or anything else to make my batter last longer. Some of you guys out there are talking about 30-40 hours...BULLSHIT I have seen not ONE tutorial showing settings or telling me how to do that as well. So will somebody be so kind as to tell me EXACTLY how to configure my phone or install another program or something because I need to use my phone for longer than 6-7 Hours without having to run for my charger. And I dont wanna spend $50 on a bulky battery either. Thanks in Advance.


text:
Super 8 Madness! Trailer (2014)
During the 80s, french magazine Mad Movies launch his first festival dedicated to amateur super 8 movies. This documentary tell the story of this french « Do It Yourself » trend.
Watch the official Super 8 Madness! 2014 trailer in HD below or find more Super 8 Madness! videos on Vidimovie.


text: Who out of everyone here listens to the radio show called Our Tune? I love listening to this stories. Even though some stories are sad but there are some that have a happy ending. I'm glad this show came back on the radio. Its good to have that bit of nostalgia from the 80s.


text:
The Volten Pool board is a short and neat board for pool surfing at your local park. But also a nice city cruiser. The board is cruiserweight and offers enough space for the feet of a small cruiser, without being humongous. Highly manoeuvrable through every turn and also perfectly suitable to surf the waves of a concrete pool's. For intermediates and rookies.
No existen reseñas en Español. Ver reseñas en otros idiomas (1 reseñas)


text:
Bohnhoff, Maya: "Seraphim"
San Francisco Chronicle, December 4, 1896
The latest fake to deceive the credulous
Built of galvanized iron and conveyed to a secluded spot, the airship
was found early this morning. The Seraph of the air spread its
wings like a giant condor and slid down hill in the vicinity of the Sunnyside
House on the Corbett Road and with a peculiar whirring sound, scraped
the paint off its underside.
Sunnyside House fronts a milk ranch and herders heard a noise shortly
before midnight that they describe as like an earthquake. Rushing
forth they heard cries proceeding from an ill-favored gulch where the
cows ruminate at nighttime. Going to the spot they found a strange-looking
craft of metal.
They did not examine the machine closely, for the writhing forms of
two men appealed to their humanity. The writhing forms recovered
sufficiently to explain that they were the inventors and builders of
an airship in which they had been sailing about when the machine got
out of order and they fell to earth. In proof, they pointed to
the immense, cigar-shaped metallic tube with its propellers and wings. Messengers
were hurried to the Almshouse for medical assistance and word was conveyed
to the press.
When the Almshouse physician and reporters arrived, it took but a moment
to puncture the fake. Captain Reddy recognized in Professor J.D.
DeGear the inventor, a man who had through the Almshouse telephone, called
up a prominent local amusement director, whom he assured that she would
go tonight for sure.
The reporters found that the airship was constructed of galvanized
iron; that the paint was not yet dry upon it; and that the propeller
blades would bend at a touch; and the thing was left to rest where it
had fallen.
The inventor vainly endeavored to convince them that it had once sailed
the skies, but under close cross-questioning, admitted that it had been
hauled to the crest of the hill on a wagon and dragged down into the
It would be cliché to say that the evening leading up to that story
was an ordinary one. It was nothing of the sort, unless one calls being
lured into the boondocks on a false lead "ordinary."
I'd chased an alleged story to a tavern on Corbett Road, only to find
I had been hoaxed. The person who had called me there did not exist, and
the story — the appearance in a neighboring field of some exotic beast — was
The tavern patrons had a good laugh at my expense, then invited stood
me to a round of drinks — a sop to my embarrassment.
Not long after, a colleague from the Oakland Tribune appeared and
inquired if I had seen the "cow pasture creature."
"What?" I said. "Are you chasing the same story?"
The expression on his face gave me to understand that it was he who had
initiated my own chase. He led our fellow patrons in another guffaw.
"There," he said. "Consider that payback for that disgraceful
Embarcadero affair."
"Nonsense, Duggan, I didn't send you out at the witching hour on
a wild monster chase."
"No, you simply deflected me from a story long enough to file it
It was a fond memory. "All's fair," I told him, raising my glass.
We fell into friendly conversation until, not long after midnight, the
tavern owner — Sam Whitehouse by name — announced that he intended to be
asleep within the hour. Scottie Duggan paid for my last drink and we filed
out into the fog-bound roadway with a handful of die-hard locals, milling
like confused geese in the mist. A gibbous moon rode high in the sky, peering
at us through tattered holes in fog and cloud.
Duggan and I were at the point of parting company when we heard a shout
from the darkness beyond the tavern. Approaching us from the expanse of
pasture that bordered Corbett Road were a pair of bobbing lanterns. In
a matter of moments, two men could be seen attached to the lanterns, waving
their arms as they approached.
"I wonder what they're on about?" asked my companion.
We were treated to a quick, but jumbled answer to that question. The older
of the two men was Frank Goddard, a farmer, who explained that he and his
son had been bringing in the milk cows from the pasture when they heard
the "awfullest noise."
"There's been an accident of some stripe. Over across the meadow,
below the bluff." Goddard jerked his head back toward his pasture.
His son, white-faced and bug-eyed, nodded like a stick puppet. "S'true.
There's been a crash. We've come for help."
We went without hesitation, envisioning a carriage or haymow overturned
onto Goddard's property from the road above. The reality was much stranger.
Something certainly lay at the foot of the little bluff, but it was no
haymow. It was much larger and metallic, and was the shape — as near as
I could tell — of a weaver's shuttle, or a fat cigar. It had some sort of
canopy suspended above the body that looked as if it had once been supported
by the delicate metal framework.
I wondered, as I approached, if I was looking at a new design for a hot-air
balloon and gondola, but there wasn't enough fabric clinging to the
wreckage to amount to a balloon.
At what I assumed was the bow of the thing was the most peculiar feature
of all — a propeller with long, thin blades, each perhaps four feet in length.
Drawing close, I raised a hand to one of the blades and pressed it back.
It gave under my hand, bending sharply. I guiltily pulled my hand away
and the blade followed it, springing back into position so quickly, I jumped.
At that moment, a groan from beneath the crippled framework pulled my
eyes away from the propeller. The craft was manned.
"Here!" I shouted to the others, who were gingerly skirting
the wreck. "There are injured here!"
Two men had inserted themselves into a pair of pockets cut in the surface
of the thing's hull, just forward of amidships. Their bodies were entirely
within the craft; only their heads were in the open. Those heads were covered
with odd leather bonnets, faces partially concealed by masks that made
them look like plucked owls.
Their obvious distress hastened our efforts to clear away the canopy above
their heads. This was not easy, for the structure was attached to the hull
with peculiar jointed struts that were not nearly as spindly as they looked.
Beneath the twisted framework, the air smelled strongly of machine oil.
I'd been aboard the Navy's newest battleships; this was the perfume of
the engine-room. There was another odor present that I didn't recognize,
sharp and pungent.
I managed to climb up to the first of the compartments, where one unfortunate
made ineffectual attempts to remove his headgear. I fumbled to help him
while Duggan pulled himself up to the aft compartment.
"This fellow seems to be unconscious," he said, beckoning to
the farmers.
I pulled away the first victim's bonnet. It was leather and sported a
pair of lenses that looked superficially like spectacles.
"Are you all right?" I asked the fellow. "Are you hurt?"
"Ahhh…don't think so."
"We'd best get you out," I told him. "Both of you. Your
companion is unconscious."
He nodded his understanding and reached down inside the compartment with
gloved hands. I heard two distinct metallic clanks, then he tried unsuccessfully
to lever himself out. In the end, it took Scottie Duggan and me both to
remove him and deposit him on a patch of grass beside the craft.
"How in heaven's name did you come to be here?" Duggan asked
him. "And what is…" He gestured toward the vessel, if such
it was. "That," he concluded.
The fellow shook his head. "Everything was going fine. I don't know
what happened. Down-draft? One minute we were flying along, level, on course.
The next…" His eyes surveyed the wreckage. "God, she's a ruin.
The wings…."
"Wait," said Duggan, standing suddenly upright. "Would
you have us believe that this thing…flew?"
"Flew. Of course, flew. Seraph of the Air." He cleared his throat
and blinked up at us owlishly, his face below the pale mask outline dark
with dirt and oil.
"And these impossible things are wings?" Duggan grasped a dangling
strut and shook it.
"Wings, yes. They mimic the wings of the condor. My design."
Scottie tilted his head and gazed down at me. "Well, I must stay,
Lee, my boy, this is the most outrageous prank you've pulled yet. How in
heaven's name did you arrange it?"
He turned to where the milk rancher was working over the second victim. "Of
course, I see you had help."
"What are you babbling about, Scottie Duggan? I'm as much agog at
this as you are."
"Like hell you are," he told me. "And good morning to you.
I'm going home to catch some sleep. 'Seraph of the Air,' indeed."
He was gone before I could stop him.
I returned my attention to the groggy gentleman. "Are you claiming
you flew this craft here, Mister…?"
"Professor. DeGear. J.D. DeGear, I—" He cut off in obvious
confusion and shook his head. "Am I…am I a prisoner, sir?"
"I'm Lee Cranfeldt — a newspaper reporter. San Francisco Chronicle.
And no, you're not a prisoner; you were in an accident of some sort with
this machine. Don't you remember?"
DeGear swiveled his head to look at the mechanical 'condor.' "I remember…flying
at about two hundred feet. Low, but above the fog, below cloud cover. Something
went wrong." He struggled to stand. "Please, help me up."
I did, looking to where the farmer knelt next to DeGear's companion.
He followed my eyes. "Harry! Dear God, is he all right?"
Frank Goddard glanced over. "Alive, but knocked senseless. I sent
my boy up to the Almshouse for a doc. Looks as if his wrist might be broke."
DeGear nodded, still looking dazed, but his attention was already on his
Seraph. He moved to the bow and ran a hand along one of the propeller blades.
"What do the propellers do?" I asked, following him.
He moved aft along the hull of the craft. "They work as well in air
as they do in water, Mr. Cranfeldt, and will push or pull a vessel forward
in either medium."
"While the wings hold it aloft, I suppose."
"Yes. Except in this case…" DeGear had stopped just beneath
the crumpled starboard wing to finger a misshapen metal ring in the fabric. "Something
so small. A malformed grommet. Could this have…?" He didn't
finish the thought, but ducked under the wing to continue his inspection.
I grasped the propeller blade myself, giving it more attention this time.
It was smooth, satiny, metallic, and possessed a soft sheen in the fitful
mixture of watery moonlight and lamp glow. I pulled it toward me and it
gave as if made of willow, hardly strong enough, one would think, to pull
a feather through the air, let alone this contraption.
I let go. As before, the blade snapped back into place. I followed DeGear
aft, pausing at the wing only long enough to feel the dunnish fabric. It
was supple, thin, oily feeling, and glistened like fish scales in the flickering
light. The hull also looked oily, and felt it as well, but when I pulled
my hand away, it was dry.
Abaft the wing, DeGear was hanging nearly upside-down in one of the seating
compartments. I'd seen native kayaks designed like this and wondered if
those had served as a model for it. Which begged the question: why?
"Professor, may I ask what this craft is?"
He pulled his head out of the well. "It's a flying machine."
"Yes, but…where is the balloon?"
His eyes finally focused on me, and his face, which hardly possessed a
healthy glow, paled further. He collapsed against the side of his ship.
I dove to keep him from striking his head, nearly losing the oil lamp.
I dragged him back under the wing with one arm and deposited him as gently
as possible in the grass. His pulse was strong, so I'd no worry for his
life, and the police had arrived, along with a contingent from the Almshouse
I waved to them, then edged back over to the vessel, where I poked my
head into the seating pocket Dr. DeGear had lately inhabited. I don't know
what I expected to see, but it was not this array of little dials and levers
and glass-covered gauges. I'd seen such things on steam engines, but I'd
swear there was no steam engine made that could fit into such a craft as
this. The faces of the gauges seemed to glow faintly even when I
held the lamp away from them.
"What are you doing?"
The voice, sharp and commanding, caused me to abandon my investigation.
I dropped back to the turf and turned. A tall bluff of a man stood just
off the vessel's bow.
"I was examining Professor DeGear's machine. The Professor is—"
"I'm quite familiar with Dr. DeGear, sir. And his antics."
I moved several steps toward him, bringing him into the light of my lamp.
He wore a cavalry uniform; an officer's bars glinted against the dark fabric. "And
you would be?"
"Captain Reddy. Dr. DeGear is my charge. He is an inventor, as he's
no doubt told you."
Over Reddy's shoulder and around the prow of the alleged flying machine,
I noticed that a small biting swarm of fellow reporters had arrived on
the heels of the physician, who was now examining DeGear's companion.
A surge of icy dread coursed through me at the idea of these latecomers
filing their stories ahead of me.
I felt around in my jacket pocket for my note pad and pencil. "An
inventor, you said. He invented this machine?"
"Machine?" His lips quirked in an amusement that failed to reach
his eyes. "Look at it, Mr…"
"Cranfeldt," I said. "San Francisco Chronicle."
The Captain swept an arm toward DeGear's Seraph just as a particularly
annoying colleague slipped under the bow.
"Look at it. Ungainly, heavy. Surely you don't believe it could fly?
That such insubstantial material as those so-called wings are made of could
hold this hulk aloft?"
The other reporter snorted derisively. "Aw, c'mon, Cranfeldt. You're
a hack, but I never figured you for a fool." He grasped one of the
propellers and twisted it. "It's made of tin foil! Hell, the paint's
not even dry on this thing." He touched the hull then brought his
hand to his face. His brow furrowed.
"It's a sad story, really," said Reddy. "Jack DeGear was
a brilliant engineer. When the war broke out, he joined the Navy. Was instrumental
in the design of the USS Monitor, which made him of some importance
to the war effort — a thing that was not lost on the Confederates. They
captured him and pressed him into the service of their own naval program.
As you are newspaper men, I suspect you may have heard of the CSS Hunley."
"Tragic," I said. "But what about the War was not?"
"The Union triumph, sir. But I agree — the loss of life aboard the Hunley was
regrettable, notwithstanding they were Confederate lives. Dr. DeGear had
a hand in the design of the Hunley. He was aware of her mission
even as he worked on her. It is not certain, but he may have made intentional…design
decisions that doomed the craft."
I was stunned. "Sabotage? But surely the Confederates would not have
trusted a captured enemy so completely."
Reddy shrugged. "We know only that when Dr. DeGear was liberated,
he was obsessed with the disaster. He refuses to work on any more submersible
craft for fear more men will drown. He has turned his attention elsewhere."
I followed his eyes upward to where clouds scudded across the face of
the moon.
Out of the corner of my eye, I beheld my colleague furiously scribbling
notes. Well, I thought smugly, he has only half the story. He hadn't
interviewed DeGear. Nor would he, for that hapless gentleman was even now
being hoisted onto a stretcher for his trip up to the waiting ambulance.
"So, a brilliant inventor of military machinery now invents fictions." Reddy
turned his gaze to the crumpled wings of the Seraph. "He was no doubt
trying to launch the damned thing."
I nodded, watching DeGear's stretcher make its way up the hillside. Some
of my cohorts made a move to intercept it, which drew Captain Reddy from
my side.
"Here, here!" I heard him say brusquely. "Leave the poor
man alone. He's in no condition for your poking and prodding."
Reluctantly the reporters let the stretcher pass. On its way to the road,
it passed a contingent of gentlemen with ropes and other tackle. Apparently
they'd come to take the craft away. They were a rough-looking lot and I
suspected they'd do DeGear's Seraph no good in removing her.
Heartily wishing I had a photographer on site to capture the thing before
they reduced it to scrap, I took several steps back and gave the contraption
a long look. I took careful note of the way it lay so I could sketch it
later. It rested about thirty feet from the base of the bluff, nose elevated,
tail section sunk into Goddard's pasture.
Before I could do much more than get a general lay of the wreckage, the
work crew began the process of removing it. So eager were they that they
quite literally shoved me out of the way and nearly into a fat cowpat.
One fellow, a heavy rope slung across his chest like a bandoleer, cast
me an apologetic glance and said: "Excuse me, sir," in unexpectedly
refined English.
I sidestepped the cowpat and moved away from the wreck as the crew swarmed
over it. There were a dozen of them and I had to wonder where they'd rounded
up such a group at this hour of the morning. They were amazingly efficient,
dismantling and folding the wings and removing the propeller in a matter
of minutes.
Hauling the hull up to the road presented no small challenge. They'd have
to drag it a good thirty feet across choppy ground just to get it into
position for a lift up the side of the bluff.
I felt a hand clasp my shoulder. "Surely, Mr. Cranfeldt," said
Captain Reddy, "you have better things to do with your time than watch
this travesty be carted off to the scrap heap."
"How is Dr. DeGear?" I asked.
"I should like to interview him."
"Mr. Cranfeldt, you can't believe…"
"A human interest story, perhaps. I'm intrigued by a mind that would
conceive of such a hoax."
Reddy flicked a glance at the dismantling of DeGear's creation and shrugged. "He's
resting in the ambulance. Let us go up and see if he's regained his composure."
He had, and when I had puffed up the hill behind the Captain and presented
myself at the ambulance, he motioned me to the rear, wherein Dr. DeGear
sat — pale, but a good deal less dazed than before. At first glance he looked
perhaps a bit younger than I expected, considering Reddy's talk of
the War, and had a full head of reddish-brown hair and wary brown eyes.
There, though, his age reposed in full, no less than in the lines etched
deeply at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm sorry about your airship, sir," I said, watching his expression.
He grimaced, glancing over my shoulder at the Captain standing behind
me. "My friend tells me I owe you an apology, Mr…Cranfeldt, is
it? You and the several other gentlemen I've kept from sleep tonight."
"I'm a newspaper man, doctor. I never sleep. Do you recall what happened?"
"I…had an accident of some sort."
"Do you remember what you told me earlier?"
DeGear reddened. "Vaguely. I suspect it was one of my tall tales.
I hope it wasn't too ridiculous."
"You said you and your companion were flying when your… ship suddenly
went down."
His face flushed an even deeper scarlet. "Did I?" He glanced
over my shoulder again.
"Yes, Jack," Reddy told him. "I'm afraid you did. You were
not quite yourself."
DeGear brought his eyes back to my face, his expression wry. "You
have my most heartfelt apologies, Mr. Cranfeldt. I regret I am sometimes
subject to…flights of fancy."
Captain Reddy placed a hand on my shoulder. "As you can see, Dr.
DeGear is in fine health and seems to have recovered his wits."
I looked back to DeGear. "Did you really expect to fly, as Captain
Reddy suggests?"
"I…" He glanced up at Reddy again. "I had seen a prototype
for this craft in the workshop of my late colleague, Darius Green. It captured
my imagination. I did expect to fly, but in my more rational moments I
realize the folly of that expectation."
I would have asked more, but the orderlies insisted they must transfer
their patients to hospital. I stood aside at the top of the hill, watching
the ambulances drive away. The freight wagons were being loaded, and I
watched this activity for a while, marveling at how such a sprawling wreck
could be so condensed. Even the hull was broken down into smaller pieces,
draped with canvas and carted away on two large wagons.
I left my competitors to mill about the crash site, and went home to pen
my story. I prepared sketches from different angles and jotted down my
impressions of the craft and my conversations with DeGear and Reddy.
I filed at 4:30 am, barely in time to make the morning paper. My editor,
Andrew Sawyer, gave me hope I might bump another story from the front page.
I returned to my rooms, exhausted, and fell into a heavy sleep.
I didn't wake until late morning, decided to take breakfast at a local
eatery, and there discovered that the Seraph of the Air was nowhere near
the front page of the Chronicle. It was, in fact, buried on
a back page among advertisements for corrective shoes and moustache wax.
Worse than that, the story itself had been edited to omit both my initial
interview with Professor DeGear and my first impressions of the craft's
peculiar construction.
The food turned to sawdust in my mouth. I got up without finishing and
made my way to the offices of the Chronicle, clutching the morning
edition, which I slapped down atop Andrew Sawyer's desk.
"This isn't the story I filed!"
He didn't so much as glance at me. "The story you filed was unprintable."
"At 4:30 this morning it wasn't unprintable," I reminded him. "It
was front page material."
"At 4:30 this morning, I didn't have the full story."
"And you got that from…?"
He reddened. "From Regis Canemore, for one."
"That hack? Why in God's name—"
"Detail, Lee. Your story was light on detail."
"Light on detail? I described the propellers, the wings, the seating
"Fine. Your story was light on pertinent detail."
"Such as?"
"Such as that the paint was scraped from the undercarriage by the
slide down the hill. Such as that Professor DeGear was witnessed
earlier yesterday to have used the Almshouse telephone to call Sam Whitehouse
to assure him the 'event' would go on as planned."
"Witnessed by whom?"
"By a Captain Reddy."
"I met Captain Reddy. He said nothing to me of a telephone call.
Neither did he mention DeGear being at the Almshouse, which is odd because
we spoke of Professor DeGear's health at length."
Andrew's eyes remained focused upon the top of his desk. "Yes, he
told me."
I rocked back on my heels, taking in his downcast eyes and flushed face. "What really happened?"
He sighed and looked at me, finally. "All right, Lee. You're too
good a reporter — and a friend — to sand bag."
I lowered myself into the chair opposite his desk.
"You filed a good story, Lee. Considering the circumstances, it was
a great story. Unfortunately, it made Professor DeGear out to be…somewhat
"He is somewhat unstable. Disturbed, in fact. That was the
substance of my conversation with Reddy. The poor man holds himself accountable
for the sinking of the CSS Hunley."
He gave me a peculiar look. "I've no idea why he should feel responsible
for the loss of a Confederate submersible, but that's irrelevant. Captain
Reddy visited me before you filed and let me know that we could
not print a story that would portray DeGear as mad."
"So instead you printed a story that portrayed him as the author
of a hoax?"
"At the request of the United States Army."
"But why?"
"Reddy indicated it was because the military still relies on the
Professor's expertise but that the government would look askance at an
expert who was publicly revealed to be of unsound mind."
I said I understood, but when I compared my story with what the Chronicle had
printed, I realized I didn't understand. Certainly, I could see that it
might be better for DeGear to appear mischievous than mad, but why the
other alterations to the story?
There had been no scraped paint, wet or otherwise. Yes, the propellers
bent at a touch, but they also snapped back into place — seemingly unbreakable.
The craft had clearly not slid down the hill; it rested too far from its
base and had landed tail first. If it had slid down, its bow would
have been buried in the pasture, not its tail.
And then there was DeGear himself. I recalled his conviction when I first
pulled him from the wreck that he had flown to the unlucky spot. I recalled
just as clearly the moment at which he had come to himself. He had swooned.
The man was clearly disturbed. It seemed cruel to paint him as a hoaxer
for the sake of being able to use his intellect to military advantage.
I resolved to find Professor DeGear and interview him again. To that end,
I checked the local hospitals, starting with the Almshouse. I was out of
luck. None of them had received Jack DeGear or his companion, whom I knew
only as "Harry." I gave descriptions of both men, thinking that
perhaps Captain Reddy had given fictitious names to the hospital.
I was in the midst of an earnest discourse with a stern but pretty admissions
nurse at St. Mary's when it struck me as almost a physical blow: Jack DeGear
being mentally disturbed might explain his presence in the ill-fated "airship," but
what of his companion?
I had stopped speaking in mid-sentence, causing the nurse to look at me
with concern.
"Are you all right, sir?" she asked. "Would you like a
glass of water?"
"No. No, thank you, miss. I require something substantially stronger
than that."
I left the hospital with curiosity burning a hole in my stomach. One mad
inventor was credible — if only just. Two stretched credulity considerably.
Supposing that Captain Reddy must have taken the crash victims to a military
hospital, I presented myself at the Presidio, asking after the officer.
I had no luck. All three men seemed to have vanished from the face of the
I remembered the name Professor DeGear had dropped: Darius Green. The
late Darius Green, DeGear had said. Here, I had better fortune. My journalistic
contacts led me to a story from the Midwest that placed an inventor named
Darius Green at the center of a series of sightings of unidentifiable flying
machines not unlike DeGear's Seraph.
Several reporters had filed stories on the sightings. Some were scoffing.
Some were ambiguous. Most described glorified balloons. But one, dating
from three summers previous, dealt with the crash of something distinctly
The crash had claimed the life of one Darius Green, inventor.
Fascinated, I wrote to the reporter of record — Stephen Deering of Topeka,
Kansas, told him about my own experience, and awaited a reply. It was not
long in coming.
"I wish," he wrote, "that I had never reported that story,
for life has been hell since. I have gained the unwelcome reputation as
a gullible crank, and no newspaper hereabouts will hire me. I have been
living hand-to-mouth as a freelancer, and am planning to come to California,
where I hope to rebuild my career. Be careful of this story, my friend:
do not get caught up in it."
He shared some details of his own experience, including the circumstances
of Dr. Green's accident. Green had attempted to launch his airship from
the top of a bluff. The machine had apparently glided some yards
before plummeting to earth, severely injuring its passenger.
"The local cavalry took the wreck away," Deering continued, "and
that was that. Except that I when I inquired at Fort Riley some days later,
I was told that Dr. Green, whom I had hopes of interviewing, had died of
his injuries."
A literal dead end. And in the time that had passed since the wreck of
the Seraph, the trail in San Francisco had also grown cold. Even
so, I found it impossible to simply shrug and walk away, if for no other
reason than that I felt a fool. I had been duped — either by Jack DeGear
with his "flights of fancy," or by Captain Reddy with his alternating
tales of madness and chicanery. The greatest irony was that I didn't know
As the month of February wound down and I was no further along than I
had been, I sat down to determine a next step. I started with two theories:
The Two Madmen Theory and the Two Hoaxers Theory. Then I laid out the facts
to see which of the two they best fit. At the end of the process I had
more questions than answers.
If, as Reddy claimed, DeGear was unstable and under watch, how was he
able to conceal such a monumental machine, transport it to a remote location,
and attempt to launch it into the air? Moreover, how was he able to draw
a co-conspirator into the "experiment?" Whatever the answer,
it hardly spoke well of Captain Reddy's guardianship.
And what of his confederate? If Harry wasn't mad, what was he doing in
such a dubious contraption in the first place? Unless he was a willing
partner in a hoax.
But, if this was a hoax who was the target? And why? One would assume
a hoaxer's object would be to fool as many people as possible. What was
to be gained by hoaxing a handful of midnight tipplers and a pasture full
of cows?
When Jack DeGear claimed to have flown the craft, he was injured and addled — possibly
even concussed. Hardly, one would think, capable of keeping up a hoax.
Even seeing his companion unconscious didn't jar him from his story.
But something had.
Madness or hoax — neither made sense. Nothing made sense…unless
Green and now DeGear really had been attempting to fly some sort of experimental
craft that the Army did not want known.
I reread Stephen Deering's account of the Topeka incident. The crash had
occurred some time after midnight well outside of town. The cavalrymen
from Fort Riley had carted the wreck away.
I returned to the Presidio and tried again to contact Reddy, asking the
clerk to whom I spoke to tell the Captain I wished to confirm the death
of a Professor Darius Green of Topeka, Kansas in a aerial mishap. The blank-faced
young corporal gave every evidence that he thought me a complete crackpot,
raising the ghost of Stephen Deering's warning. I went away half hoping
that if Reddy received my message, he would ignore me.
Two weeks went by during which I heard no word from the Presidio. On the
first day of March I put away my notes on the affair. On the evening of
the same day, I received a telegram from Stephen Deering.
"Flying ship sighted in Uvalde, Texas last spring," it read. "Interested?"
God help me, I was. And so, it would appear, was Stephen Deering, for
he had ignored his own advice, gotten caught up in the story, and chased
it all the way to the Lone Star state.
Uvalde, TX, April 22, 1896: That Uvalde has been visited by the
famous airship that has created so much excitement in Texas, there is
no room to doubt. The airship was sighted by Sheriff H.W. Baylor
around 10 o'clock Tuesday evening.
Mr. Baylor's attention was first attracted by a bright light
and the sound of strange voices in back of his residence. He went out
to investigate and was surprised to find there the airship and a crew
of three men. They stated they were on a trial trip and did not wish
their presence known to the people of the town.
One of the men, who gave his name as Wilson, inquired for Capt. C.C.
Acres, former Sheriff of Svala County who he understood lived in this
section. He said he had met Capt. Acres at Fort Worth in 1877 and would
be much pleased to meet him again. When told that Capt. Acres was at
Eagle Pass in the customs service and often visited this place, he asked
to be remembered to the Captain on the occasion of his next visit.
After procuring water at the hydrant in Mr. Baylor's yard, the
men boarded the ship, its great fins and wings were set in motion, and
it sped away northward in the direction of San Antonio.
Mr. Baylor is thoroughly reliable and his statement is undoubtedly
true. His description of the ship does not differ materially from
that given by Mr. J.R. Liggin at Bowmont. County Clerk Henry J. Bowles
also claims to have seen the airship as it passed up Getty Street north
of the Baylor residence. — The Dallas Star
"Never arrived in San Antonio, though," said the young man
sitting across the table from me. He had been watching my face as I read
the story from a carefully cropped page of the Star.
"The description is enough like DeGear's Seraph as to be the
same ship." I handed the article back across the table. "Have
you sought to interview the men mentioned in this story?"
Stephen Deering nodded. "Baylor, Liggin, and Bowles, yes — Acres
is no longer in the area. All three were…evasive. Which I found a bit
surprising considering the statements they obviously gave immediately after
the events. Baylor has it that he thinks he was hoaxed — that the machine
was a lighter-than-air balloon dressed up to look like something else."
"Truly? Odd, that was one explanation that wasn't advanced
in the San Francisco incident." I took out the article that had appeared
under my byline in the Chronicle, handed it to him, and watched
him as carefully as he had watched me while he read it.
He raised his eyes to mine almost immediately. "Galvanized iron?
Not silvered fabric?"
"It landed heavily enough to have buried its tail section in a cow
pasture. I felt the thing with my own hands — it was neither fabric nor
galvanized iron — too rigid for one; too light for the other."
"What then?"
"A new alloy, perhaps. Something very thin and light, but metallic
in appearance. Whatever else she was, the Seraph of the Cow Meadow was not lighter
than air."
"Mr. Baylor never touched the machine," Deering said thoughtfully. "If
there was a machine."
"Why would Baylor make up something like this? Why would anyone?"
"Notoriety? The idea of a few rounds of free drinks will make some
men do foolish things."
True. "I would like to interview Acres. Consider how odd it is for
a man — supposedly on a secret test flight — to announce himself to the first
witness who shows up and to plant a name in his ear. Why do that?"
"I suspect that only Misters Acres and Wilson know the answer to
that question. The article says Acres is in Eagle Pass. Are you ready for
another train trip?"
I put the article back into my wallet and finished off my coffee, which
was all but cold. "Not at the moment. I'd rather investigate locally."
He stood. "What do you have in mind?"
Sheriff Baylor had thick salt and pepper hair and the build of a grizzly
bear. His expression, when he heard of our intent to question him further
about the sighting, was also reminiscent of that impressive beast. We'd
met in a tavern of Baylor's choosing; he had not wanted us to come
to his house.
"I told you, Mr. Deering," he said to my companion, "I
was hoaxed. Why, I have no idea. But I saw nothing more than a dollied-up
balloon. I feel a fool."
I was not above pleading. "Sheriff, I've traveled all the
way from San Francisco to look into this. I beg your indulgence. Please
hear me out."
"San Francisco? What brings you here from San Francisco?"
"Three months ago in a pasture outside of town I saw something very
much like what you described in your original account. The chief difference
being that I was able to lay hands on the machine and know it to be of
heavier construction than a hot-air balloon."
Baylor reddened. "That's as may be, but what I saw — well,
it must have been a balloon."
I leaned forward in my chair, leaning my elbows on the table. "I'm
curious, Sheriff, about the man or men involved in this…hoax. Who would
repeatedly perpetrate such a prank? You spoke to one of the men in the
"Indeed I did." He eyed me suspiciously.
"He gave his name as Wilson?"
He nodded.
"The fellow I met called himself J.D. DeGear."
His lips twitched. "Name's not familiar to me."
"Mr. Wilson asked after a C.C. Acres?"
Again the terse nod.
"An acquaintance of yours?" asked Stephen Deering with a meaningful
glace at me. Getting answers out of Henry Baylor was like trying to extract
teeth from a chicken.
"He was Sheriff before me. I was his deputy."
Deering swirled his beer glass about in the watery track it had left on
the table. "How did Wilson come to speak to you?"
"He approached me while the other two gentlemen were attempting
to disentangle the craft from the branches of a cottonwood tree and asked
if I would pass along his greeting to Captain Acres."
"So Mr. Wilson took you aside," I said, "out of hearing
of the others?"
He frowned at that, his ferocious white brows colliding over the bridge
of his nose. "I hadn't considered it before, but now that you
mention it, yes — our conversation was private."
"Then he just…flew away."
He flushed again. "Floated. Look, this isn't a welcome subject for
me. I looked an idiot."
I held up my hand to stay him a moment more. "One last thing: did
Mr. Wilson give a first name, by chance?"
Again, the twitch of lips. "Initials only — J.D."
"You think Wilson's behavior is significant," Deering
We were seated in a passenger car of the San Antonio Railroad speeding
southwest to Eagle Pass.
"J.D. DeGear dropped the name 'Darius Green' in my ear," I
returned. "Very deliberately, it seems to me. Just as it appears J.D. Wilson dropped
another name on another witness some time earlier."
"Let's assume for a moment that DeGear and Wilson are the same
man. Why the name dropping? Let's suppose he intended you to try to find
Darius Green. The man is dead."
"Is he?"
Deering graced me with a sly look. "All right, I'm willing to admit
that I don't know that Darius Green is dead. I was told he
was dead."
"Dead or alive, I think DeGear/Wilson intended Sheriff Baylor — or
someone he spoke to — to be intrigued enough to try to locate C.C. Acres.
And if that's the case, then he most likely intended me to go off
looking for Dr. Green. The question is: what was I supposed to find?"
An interesting thought. We'd both been at the end of our respective roads
when I contacted him. Yet, here we both were — chasing dropped names by
In the thirty years since the War, Eagle Pass had recovered well, notwithstanding
its violent history and its onetime occupation by Confederate troops. The
relatively new railroad connection had helped what had been a dying town
in the 50's become a bustling hub of trade.
We found the Customs office without trouble and soon were behind closed
doors in the Captain's office. Acres was a short, wiry fellow with black
hair that had gone silver at the temples. His skin was the color of the
local sandstone and of similar texture.
His intense gray eyes did not so much as waver when I explained our mission
to him by saying that we were trying to locate J.D. Wilson and that both
of us had seen what we supposed to be his "aircraft," and had
talked to Baylor.
"And Baylor sent you to me?"
"Not exactly. Mr. Baylor seemed quite embarrassed by the whole thing
and resisted discussing it. He was willing, however, to discuss J.D. Wilson.
We're hoping you will be as well."
"That entirely depends on what you ask me about him."
"Then he's not a figment of Sheriff Baylor's imagination," said
my companion.
"Not at all. I became acquainted with him during my Army days at
Forth Worth in '76."
"Had you known Mr. Wilson was experimenting with flight?" I
asked baldly.
He fixed me with a level gaze. "Jack Wilson was obsessed with flight
and had been since before I met him. He was a balloon man. The Army found
his specialty of potential benefit."
"Balloons only? No…heavier-than-air craft?"
That raised Acres' eyebrows. "Heavier-than-air? Mr. Cranfeldt,
if something is heavier-than-air is it logical to suppose it will fly?
I'll allow Jack did go on about something he was working on. Something
he said would astonish the world — but I supposed it related to aerial navigation.
He was a well-educated man and seemed to have the money with which to pursue
his investigations. As nearly as I could tell, he devoted most of his time
to them."
"He was privately funding this experimentation? I thought he worked
for the Army."
"Actually, it was through friendship with me that he came to the
Army's attention — or it came to his."
"He didn't serve in the Army during the War?"
He looked at me strangely. "Jack Wilson? He was all of twenty and
four when I met him. That would have made him twelve when the War started.
And from a moneyed family. As far as I know he entered the Army at Fort
Worth in 1877."
I did not trouble Captain Acres by telling him that his friend's
recent experiences had aged him so as to make Reddy's fiction credible
to me.
"From conversations we had," he continued, "it wouldn't
surprise me that, having succeeded in constructing a practical airship
that solved whatever navigational problem he was working on, Jack
would hunt me up to show it to me."
"Then you trust Sheriff Baylor's account of his sighting?"
"I've known Sheriff Baylor for many years, gentlemen. His statements
may be relied on as correct."
"Yet," said Deering, "he now believes himself to have been
hoaxed. If true, that means you are a victim once removed. You say Wilson
was a man of means; have you known him to use those means to perpetrate
elaborate hoaxes?"
Acres frowned. "How elaborate a hoax?"
"It appears that not once, but at least twice, Wilson — or someone
fitting his description — constructed a craft that had no hope whatever
of flying and pushed it off the top of a hill for reasons that remain a
He grimaced. "I must admit, Jack had a goodly store of bravado.
While I've never known him to do anything dishonest, I have to allow he
had a flamboyant streak. It's certainly more reasonable to suppose that
he committed these hoaxes than to believe he flew such a machine as you
Acres' extreme care with words was not lost on me. "Can you speculate
as to why he should do this?"
"I suppose it's possible he did not succeed in his avowed
intent and has found it necessary to resort to elaborate pranks to redeem
his reputation as an inventor."
"Ah, but here's the odd thing: none of these pranks seems to have
been played out before an audience. The 'crashes' are always in relatively
remote places at odd hours of the night, and attended by mere handfuls
of people. What sort of prankster wastes his efforts for so small a return?"
Deering asked: "You said Mr. Wilson was obsessed with flight — do
you mean that literally? Was he…mad?"
When Acres didn't respond, I added wryly: "I was told he had been
captured by the Confederates and forced to work on the design of the CSS Hunley,
which sank with all hands. Needless to say, I now realize the account was
fictional. Still, I feel compelled to ask: was he unstable?"
"I'd call Jack excitable, whimsical even. But unstable? I'd hate
to think it. But what else is there to believe?"
"Have you ever heard of a J.D. DeGear or a Darius Green?" asked
my colleague.
Acres became very still. "What do you know of Darius Green?"
"What do you know of him?" I countered.
"He was stationed at Fort Riley, west of Topeka, Kansas, at the
same time I was — about three years ago. That was just prior to my retirement
from military service."
"I met Professor Green," Deering told him, "in a manner
of speaking. I saw him unconscious and strapped into a metal machine that
he had apparently crashed while attempting to fly. He was later described
to me as a fraud. A dead fraud; I was told he succumbed to injuries."
Acres rose as if remaining seated was suddenly impossible. He moved to
the window of his tiny office, where he gazed out into the street. I first
thought that he meant simply to gather his thoughts, but realized he was
looking for something there.
He turned back to us. "What do you expect me to tell you?"
"Was it a hoax?" Deering asked, sitting forward in his chair. "Green's
"He intended it to fly," Acres said tersely. "It did
"And J.D. DeGear's machine in San Francisco?"
"I know nothing of that."
"I'm convinced my J.D. DeGear and your J.D. Wilson are the
same person," I said. "And…I'm more than half convinced
they are both Darius Green."
He said nothing, so pressed him. "Is Darius Green dead?"
"Let us say he has legally ceased to exist."
"I am unable to say."
"Because he designed balloons for the military? That hardly seems
likely. Because he is a brilliant engineer given to wild pranks? Possibly.
Or because, as Captain Reddy would have me believe, he's mentally
unbalanced and obsessed with flight?"
"Reddy!" He gave me the full intensity of his eyes. "He
was with Reddy?"
"You know Captain Reddy, sir?" asked Deering.
Acres collected himself with obvious effort. "I do. He has for some
time been my friend's…amanuensis. Reddy is a dedicated soldier."
Amanuensis? The man had behaved more like a commandant. "Captain
Reddy represented himself to me as the Professor's guardian."
Acres snorted. "Perhaps that's as good a word as any."
"The Captain indicated to me that his charge was mentally unsound,
and in fact, DeGear all but corroborated it when I interviewed him some
hours after the crash. He apologized for leading me to believe the vessel
had actually flown some distance and — "
"Flown?" Captain Acres said, again focusing the full force
of his gaze on my face. "He claimed it had flown? How far?"
I shrugged. "I have no idea. He merely said that they'd been flying
along at about two hundred feet when suddenly they went down. Then later,
with Reddy present, he recanted the statement and disappeared. Along with
his flying companion."
When he said nothing, I asked bluntly: "Who is our Professor of
many names?"
"He is, as you suggest, a brilliant engineer and inventor. The Army
has invested much in his ideas and has reaped some benefit. A craft that
can fly above cloud cover to drop ordnance on an enemy army is quite a
powerful weapon to have in one's arsenal."
"Brilliant, but unstable?"
Acres gave me a particularly direct look. "He has no connection
to the Hunley, Mr. Cranfeldt. He was never captured by Confederates.
He never served in the War."
I conceded that. "Brilliant, but given to outrageous jests?"
"You said it yourself — for whose benefit? Who perpetrates a grandiose
hoax for an audience of Holsteins?"
"Ah. You're familiar with the San Francisco incident after
all," I observed. "I never mentioned the cows."
He smiled. "You're good, Mr. Cranfeldt. I suspect you may
have a long career ahead of you as a newspaper man…if you don't
affront the wrong people."
Deering and I both took note at that.
"Are you threatening us, Captain Acres?" he asked.
"No sir. I am warning you that some questions are best left unanswered."
"I'm not certain I can agree with that sentiment," I
said. "But let me ask just one more: If he's not of unsound
mind and he's not setting up a monumental hoax — perhaps against journalists
as a breed — then why is he dropping clues and names all over the country?
In the guise of J.D. DeGear, he told me about Darius Green, which prompted
me to contact Mr. Deering. In the guise of J.D. Wilson, he dropped your
name on Sheriff Baylor — one assumes to induce him to contact you. Why?"
"I don't know."
"Do you know where he might be?"
"To continue in this course could be extremely foolhardy, gentlemen."
"Then you may call us fools."
Acres returned to his chair. "About twelve miles northeast of here
on an old farm road is a long mesa you may find of interest. Folks around
here occasionally tell tales about it." He opened his mouth as if
to say more, then shook his head. "I've already said more than
I should have under the circumstances."
"What circumstances would those be?" I asked, but he declined
to answer.
Closer to eleven miles outside of Eagle Pass on a thoroughly miserable
excuse for a road there was, as Captain Acres had said, an elongated mesa
reminiscent of a bluff Stephen Deering had once visited west of Topeka.
It was oriented south to north, the northern end being a precipice.
This formation also had a distinctive feature the Captain had not mentioned:
it was cut off from its environs by a fence. A prodigious fence, it seemed
to enclose the entire mesa and the shallow valley that lay at its foot.
We left the road and trotted our horses to the top of a smaller mesa a
handful of miles to the southeast, and from this vantage point surveyed
the land. The first thing we noted was that the valley was not empty. Along
the base of the mesa lay a clutter of low buildings, including a peculiar
structure that looked like an oversized Iroquois longhouse.
We followed the fence with our field glasses, finding no egress but a
hard-packed track that led up to a guardhouse. In and about this building
were several soldiers whose unenviable job it was to stare endlessly at
the unmoving landscape.
While I was engaged in trying to espy another less conspicuous entrance,
Deering studied the mesa. After several moments, he cried out, pointing.
I turned my own glasses to the mesa and immediately saw what had caused
his excitement; a machine that could have been DeGear's Seraph was perched
on the wind-swept top.
As we watched, the machine was turned toward the northern end of the mesa
by a group of uniformed men. Then it began to move toward the precipice,
gathering speed with every second. When it was within ten yards or so of
the cliff's edge, its great wings unfurled and it bobbed upward.
And flew.
It rose from the lip of the mesa into the air, the faint sound of its
propellers wafting back to us like the purr of a contented cat. It circled
over the valley at about 300 feet or so from the ground. The wings did
not move much, only taking an almost leisurely flap now and again or angling
into a turn.
There were two men aboard the vessel. All that could be seen of them was
their helmeted heads and shoulders. I could make out no features.
How long the ship flew, I couldn't say, but we watched enthralled until
its riders brought it to earth once more, shuddering, bouncing, teetering,
but not crashing. It came to a rough stop, its wings folding as it slowed.
When it had ceased to move, its attendants scurried to secure it.
I let out an involuntary sigh and lowered my glasses, barely able to believe
what I'd just seen. It seemed our mysterious Professor had indeed invented
a practical airship.
"Here, Cranfeldt," Deering said to me, "see if this
is your Professor DeGear."
I raised my glasses again and trained them on the machine. Its driver
stepped from beneath the canopy of fabric that had held it impossibly aloft
and removed his bonnet. It was, indeed, the man I knew as Professor Jack
"Damn," said Deering, close to my ear. "I think we've
been spotted."
I pulled the glasses down and followed his gaze to the road that led out
of the fenced valley. Troops on horseback were moving out at a brisk pace.
We removed ourselves from the bluff and returned to Eagle Pass post haste.
From there we caught an immediate train back to San Antonio.
We relaxed only when the train had pulled out of the station without incident.
We saw neither hide nor hair of the cavalry.
"What does it all mean?" Deering asked.
"The Army is experimenting with heavier-than-air machines, apparently.
The tactical advantage of such craft is obvious: under the right conditions
they could drop ordnance without being seen. They don't present as
big a target as the average balloon, they're times faster, and therefore
less likely to be knocked out of the sky by conventional means."
"Provided they can stay aloft for any length of time."
"Yes. And if a marksman should by some fortune strike one, it would
not be punctured."
"But so much secrecy. Why? Do they fear that other countries will
try to duplicate their efforts?"
"A good guess, sir. And also that nosy reporters will fly these secrets
from the mastheads of their sensation-hungry newspapers."
We looked up to find ourselves captive to the steady gaze of Captain Reddy.
He was in full uniform, right down to the yellow buckskin gloves. He slid
into the seat next to Deering and kitty-corner to me.
"What did you see this afternoon?" he asked.
"You know what we saw. I saw the so-called Seraph of the Air. Deering
saw the same ship he saw outside Topeka. Only this time, we saw it fly."
Reddy looked down at his gloved hands and nodded. "And you intend
to publish your revelations, do you?"
"Is there some reason we should not?" my colleague asked.
"National security?"
I glanced at Deering and sighed. "I see. Would you be willing to
answer some of the questions we still have?"
"Only if I can do so without compromise."
"Understood. Green, DeGear, and Wilson — the same man?"
He nodded.
"The same airship?"
"The same design. Improved over time. This was the most successful
flight to date."
"Then the Professor is neither a trickster nor a madman."
Reddy chuckled. "Well, I sometimes think him a madman, but no, he
is no trickster. His machines fly."
"Which makes them of great military significance."
"And how do you account for the fact that he seems intent on arousing
Reddy's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"He put me onto Darius Green himself, and he intentionally mentioned
Captain Acres to Sheriff Baylor."
The Captain was silent for a moment, then said: "I said I thought
him a little mad. I suppose a man would have to be a bit mad to focus so
completely on the impossible that he made it merely improbable."
I must have looked skeptical, for Reddy shook his head and added: "Professional
pride, Mr. Cranfeldt. John Darius Wilson — and that is his real name — is
a genius. A man of radical ideas and singular focus. If he were in private
practice as an inventor and engineer, he would most likely be both famous
and wealthy. As it is, he has done what no man has done before and can
tell no one. He simply wishes to be known. And he does not want
posterity to regard him as a charlatan."
I nodded, and Deering said: "We, at least, will not regard him as
"I'll tell him that. He will appreciate it. May I count on
your discretion, gentlemen?"
"Have we a choice?"
"Certainly, but as you well know, Mr. Deering, to come forward with
such things can be disastrous for your journalistic career."
This was the end of our journey, then. We sat atop the truth, but were
now obliged to ignore it.
Stephen Deering returned with me to San Francisco since his career in
Topeka was through. Andrew Sawyer was pleased to have him. He seemed unconcerned
by Stephen's troubles at the Topeka Capitol Journal.
"I suspect your young friend simply ran afoul of the Army," he
told me.
"What makes you say that?" I asked, for I had told him nothing
of our trek to Texas.
"You forget: I've met Captain Reddy."
By mid-summer I thought of the Professor and his improbable machine only
to wonder if I would have occasion to see them used in battle. If the Professor
had dropped clues on any other eager reporters, I never heard of it.
So, on one of my evening visits to Sunnyside House, I was surprised to
have a man slide onto the stool next to me and say: "You gave up."
I swallowed my beer too quickly, coughed, and glanced up into the weary
face of our Flying Professor. He was dressed in a long driving coat and
wore a large, floppy hat.
"Well, Dr. DeGear!" I said. "Or would that be Dr. Green,
or perhaps Dr. Wilson?"
"So, you got that far."
"Reddy didn't tell you?"
"Reddy told me only that my attempts to communicate with 'outsiders'
were neither effective nor appreciated."
"Why do you do it?" I asked him. "Reddy has it that you
want someone to recognize your achievements."
"My achievements? Mr. Cranfeldt, all I've done is to take what was
given to me and…make use of it."
"You invented a flying machine," I reminded him.
"I designed it, but its motive power and materials are not of my
"What does that mean?"
He glanced over his shoulder at the door of the tavern, which had just
opened to admit a trio of men, one of which was the ubiquitous Captain
He turned back to me, mouth twisting. "Things fall from the sky,
Mr. Cranfeldt. Dangerous things. Things we perhaps should not have found."
Captain Reddy was directly behind us now, the two taller men flanking
him on either side. "Professor, I really must insist that you return
to the Presidio."
"Yes, of course."
The Professor's voice was dry and flat. He slid from his stool and faced
his custodians, and I swear he had aged twenty years in the handful of
seconds I had taken my eyes from him. Shoulders stooped, he took a step
toward the tavern door, then turned back to afford me a last look.
"Pray we do not find ourselves in war too soon, Mr. Cranfeldt."
"I pray we will not find ourselves in war at all, Professor."
He left the tavern, slumped between his guardians.
Captain Reddy stayed behind for a moment to speak to me. He was dressed
in civilian clothes tonight, but that did not disguise the cavalry in him.
"Your ward seems bent on escaping you," I observed. "Why?"
He shrugged. "A prideful man, our Professor."
"He seemed more fearful than prideful to me."
"He is also a fragile man in some ways."
I nodded. "Oh, yes. I forgot. Brilliant but unstable."
Reddy regarded me steadily for a moment, then said: "There's more
than a little truth to that, Mr. Cranfeldt. I spend a good deal of my time
protecting Dr. Wilson from himself."
"I'm not sure I believe you."
He shrugged. "Believe what you will, sir. Now, I'll bid you good
evening and apologize for the Professor's persistence." He touched
the brim of his hat and turned to go.
"What did he mean," I asked, "things fall from the sky?"
Reddy hesitated before turning back to face me. "Would you believe
me if I told you he was talking about meteorites?"
He sighed deeply, his eyes roaming the floor at his feet. At last he stepped
toward me and met my gaze. "Dr. Wilson believes his Seraph is constructed
of materials that did not originate on this earth. He thinks that ships fall
from the sky, Mr. Cranfeldt. Ships from other worlds. We have shown him
the mines from which the metals have come, but the Professor persists in
believing that we are providing him with 'alien' materials."
For a moment I couldn't speak. "If I were to ask him…" I said
at last.
"He would tell you the same thing. With the obvious exception that
the mines we showed him were for show. If you doubt me, I can arrange for
you to hear it from his own lips."
I read his eyes. He was serious.
"So," I said at last, "your original story was the truest
of all."
"So it would seem, Mr. Cranfeldt. Now, if you will excuse me, I must
get the Professor back to the Presidio."
Again, he touched the brim of his hat and made his way across the barroom
floor and out into the night.
I fell back on habit, attempting to catalogue this newest information
with all the previous facts and fantasies Stephen Deering and I had collected.
It fit well…and not at all.
Madman. Hoaxer. Alarum bell? I could not help but note one thing: other
than giving himself several pseudonyms — or perhaps simply accepting ones
he had been given — Professor John Darius DeGear/Green/Wilson had never
once lied to me.
I considered his words now: Things fall from the sky. Things we perhaps
should not have found.
I started to order up another beer, then amended my request. Rum was required
for this line of thought. Were I drunk enough, I might wrap my mind around
the Professor's words, but not now. Not sober.
I thought of my friend, Stephen Deering. Was he, I wondered, as my thoughts
blurred comfortingly, ready for another crusade?


text:
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Last night in President Bush's State of the Union Address, he laid out his plans for the upcoming year. On the President's to-do list were two public initiatives that I wish to look into with more detail, not as separate issues but as two very distinct issues that must coincide with one another to reach a common goal. These issues are public education and the HIV/AIDS epidemic. On the outset, one could easily see the correlation between the two subjects, but what I wish to bring to your attention is the blatant misuse of funds by the federal and state governments that not only deny proper education on the subject domestically, but also where it is needed most, on the continent of Africa. I will show how the stigma held by religious conservatives on subjects such as sexual intercourse coupled with the archaic views on contraception held by the Catholic Church have lead our government, through lobby groups and special interests, to all but ignore the problems of sexually transmitted disease as well as teen pregnancy. Knowing that this subject is very complex, I will attempt to keep this essay short enough to keep your attention while hopefully broadening your prospective on the subject.
Today in America at least 30% of our public schools rely on abstinence only approaches to sexual education, while close to 40% rely on an "abstinence plus" approach. Although abstinence is the only sure fire measure against sexually transmitted disease and teen pregnancy, it is by no means a viable option to sexual education. Our children need an unbiased approach to sexual intercourse that is free from the religious morality imposed by the Christian community. It may be alarming to some, but of our 50 states, all requiring sexual education in our publicly funded schools, 12 of these states mandate abstinence only approaches, denying funding for anything but. An abstinence only approach leaves no room for education on condom use or other safe alternatives to sexual intercourse. This approach is only backed by 15% of the American population based on a study done by the Kaiser Family Foundation, yet the Evangelical hold on our public policy has once again extended far beyond their populative constituency.
The stance held by religious conservatives on sexual education is irresponsible to say the least. This is very apparent in the small community of Owasso Oklahoma where I grew up. It is widely known that the local Baptist Church has a major influence on local initiatives, which along with an already highly conservative population, has all but ignored a fairly obvious teen pregnancy crisis. Although I was unable to obtain any official statistics on the subject, due mostly to the local high schools unwillingness to cooperate with me on the subject, the problem is well known throughout the community. I use this example only to illustrate this problem at a local level so I can then show its significance at the International level.
In 2004 the Bush administration appropriated close to 4 billion dollars towards the AIDS epidemic in Africa and then gave more than 200 million dollars of that funding to a small number of Catholic Charities to spend on humanitarian relief. This is ironic considering that the Catholic Church condemns the use of condoms, which are considered the most realistic and effective barrier for combating the spread of HIV by the International AIDS Alliance, and instead teaches (or preaches) their abstinence only demagogue under a guise of humanitarian relief. Do we as Americans believe that the Catholic Church should use our tax dollars to explain to the tribal people of Africa, who have been genetically programmed for the last 200,000 years to preserve their species and tribal heritage through reproduction, that they should no longer have sex because god doesn't want them to? It's fairly obvious that if the Bush administration were even remotely concerned with saving the lives of the millions of AIDS stricken natives of Africa, they wouldn't waste the American tax payer's money by sending to Africa a religious organization that refuses to acknowledge the use of contraception, then replacing it with the mid-evil and intolerant religious views of Thomas Aquinas, expounding that sexual conduct is immoral and full abstinence is gods true virtue. Teaching abstinence to tribal African cultures is like explaining to a two year old that chocolate is going to make him fat. He will hear you and probably understand you, but he won't really care. Why is this? It's because being fat isn't a social concern of a two year old, just like adhering to the religious views of some fundamentalist Christian from America isn't going to be a social concern of a twenty year old Kenyan man who will rely on his offspring to harvest next seasons coffee crop. This is not rocket science, it is common sense, a virtue that seems to have left the minds of those who expound these beliefs.
Many on the religious right condemn Islam for its intollerance and injustice towards humanity, but religious fanaticism, textual literalism and intolerance are not issues that stop with the Muslim community. The Christian religious conservatives of this nation are hindering our personal freedoms, stifling important advancements in scientific and medical research, and imposing their belief system on the whole of the American public in ways that cannot be overlooked. If we as Americans continue to ignore this problem, controversies such as stem cell research, abortion or sexual education will no longer be of our concern. This will instead be replaced with the concern of nuclear holocaust and a global war of religions.


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Mobile News | Microsoft Will Soon Shut Down App Store for Windows Mobile
Microsoft already made announcement to shut down the app store for its phone platform that it phase out. Owners of Windows Mobile phones can no longer browse the Marketplace starting May 9, 2012.
Owners of the new mobile OS of Microsoft, however, are not affected by the move. They can still enjoy the services of Windows Phone Marketplace.
Microsoft mentioned that users of old Windows Mobile phones who downloaded apps from Marketplace need not to worry because old apps will continue to work after the shutdown.
Additionally, the company reminded the affected users that if they make hard reset and delete apps to their Windows Mobile, they will no longer able to download them again from the Marketplace.
Mobile News sources indicate that the decision made by Microsoft is connected to its business plan reacting to the decline of its Windows Mobile's share of the smartphone market, from 37% in 2006 to just only 3% in 2011.
Microsoft's Windows Phone, the latest mobile operating system, is yet to pick up the fast phase of mobile world. According to mobile news sources, the company only has 3% of the smartphone market as of October 2011.
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