From Here to Machinery Novelization
Written by Len Uhley
part 2

The Great Race Continues
Hour One

The Sea Duck and the Auto Aviator's red plane made their way towards Tundra City - a frigid country near the Arctic Circle. The Auto Aviator made a beeline towards the country, whereas Baloo, sorely missing his navigator, took a more S-shaped route.

Baloo was very optimistic about the outcome of the race. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would win. After all, wasn't he the top dog on the Air Race Wall of Fame?

"Ha! Ha! No sign of that machine anywheres, baby. We musta out shot him by twenty thousand million miles. Never send a machine ta do a bear's job." Tapping his fingers on the steering yoke, Baloo hummed 'I'm Gone'.

Hour Five

Baloo steered with his feet while wrestling with the map. He turned it this way and that, trying to figure out which way was north.

"Where the heck am I? Sure could use my navigator an' a sandwich right now. A sandwich an' a slice of Louie's pepperoni pizza. Make that two slices with a Krakatoa Special chaser an' a triple thick Mango Shake..."

Hour Ten

Baloo slouched in the pilot's seat. His eyes glazed over, the big bear mechanically took a sip of Orange Fizzie.

Hour Fifteen

The sky was pitch black with a million stars. Wearily slumped over the steering yoke, Baloo yawned a gaping yawn that should have dislocated his jawbone. "Shoulda got me some more shut-eye last night." He rolled down the window to let some of the brisk, cold air into the cockpit.

Hour Twenty

Finally, a grueling twenty hours after departure from Cape Suzette, the Sea Duck skidded to a stop on the icy harbor outside of Tundra City. Baloo literally fell out of the plane headfirst into a snowdrift. "Oh, man, this race is gettin' ta be a drag."

The frigid wind revitalized him for a moment. Standing a little way up the dock was a penguin - frozen as he stood in his stocking cap, scarf, and coat. He held a frozen flag that read,'Yay'. He pointed to two small crates on the dock.

"Where's the cargo?" Baloo yelled over the blizzard's howling wind. The snow-covered crates looked like soft, comfortable pillows to the fatigued bear, so he lay down on the ground, resting his head on one. "I s'pose a couple of winks couldn't hurt..."

Just as he was about to doze off, the Auto Aviator's plane landed.

With surge of angry energy, Baloo roused himself. "No! No gadget's gonna beat this bear!" He picked up a crate and pushed past the robot, who was methodically marching up the dock. "One side. Outta my way!"

Higher for Hire
Tuesday
10:30 PM

A warm breeze wafted the smell of the salty sea air towards Kit, who was sitting on the edge of the dock, staring up at the stars. The constellations, as familiar as the back of his hand, comforted the boy. They reminded him that some things remained constant even when the world was in turmoil. The unchanging stars were there no matter where he had been: in the orphanage, on the streets, with the air pirates, or here at Higher for Hire.

The young navigator mentally plotted Baloo's flight path. If all had gone as planned, Baloo should have been over the north Atlantic Ocean. Kit shifted his gaze from the heavens to Rebecca when she sat down beside him.

"What are you still doing up?" the bearess asked softly.

Kit shrugged and flashed her a slight smile. "Just thinking."

Rebecca yawned, then grinned at him. "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

He nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Molly's been in bed for hours, and I'm ready to join her. I think I'll even sleep well in that hammock," she chuckled. "How about you?"

"Yeah, in a minute, Miz Cunningham."

Rebecca rose and gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "He'll be fine, Kit. If anyone can handle it, it's Baloo. Remember that tomorrow's a school day. Don't stay out too late."

"I won't. Goodnight, Miz Cunningham."

"Goodnight."

Hit with a sudden thought, Kit said, "Uh, Miz Cunningham?"

Rebecca stopped and turned to look at the boy. "Yes?"

"Could I take Thursday off from school?" Kit asked, whipping his baseball cap off; he fiddled with it. "Baloo's supposed to come home Thursday morning and..."

"And you'd like to be here to see him win," Rebecca concluded, smiling. "Well...we'll see, okay, sweetie?"

He returned her smile, instinctively knowing that she would let him have a vacation day. "Okay."

As Kit put his cap on and turned the bill backwards, he watched Rebecca walk back towards Higher for Hire. She and Molly were staying at Higher for Hire to keep him company. Rebecca also wanted to stay near the radio, because she was anxious about the Sea Duck's safety. Kit suspected that she was more concerned about her pilot than about her plane. He had noticed her jump every time the phone rang or when the radio announced something about the great race between man and machine, especially when Baloo had been mentioned.

When she had entered the building, Kit once again gazed up at the stars, basking in the afterglow of Rebecca's 'sweetie' and wondering where his Papa Bear was at that very minute.

Hour Twenty-Three
Wednesday
Dawn

Baloo's head nodded. Try as he might, it was difficult to keep his heavy eyelids open. "Think awake. Alert! Time for Plan 'A'." The big bear pressed a button on the controlpanel.Sevenspeakers emerged from concealed compartments in the cockpit's walls and blasted a deafening trumpet fanfare in his ear.

A minute later, the pilot caught himself drifting off again. "Aw, c'mon, wake up! Time for Plan 'B'"

He pushed the second button. On either side of his face, four flyswatters mounted to wheels dropped from the ceiling. The flyswatters rotated on their wheels and smacked Baloo's cheeks. "Gotta beat the machine." Baloo shook his head. "Gotta beat the machine. Gotta...gotta...snore."

Baloo dreamed that the Sea Duck shattered into several parts and that he was falling, falling through the air. He slid down a dark tunnel and onto a conveyer belt. A huge, scary, distorted Martin Torque with glowing red eyes towered over him.

Baloo stuttered, "You're...you're just a dream. You're not real!"

Torque chortled evilly. "Oh, we're real, all right. You're the one who's been living in a dream!"

All of a sudden, Torque disappeared and the conveyer belt sped into a gigantic Auto Aviator's mouth. Inside the humongous contraption, Baloo ducked and dodged out of the way of gigantic, pounding pistons. A robotic arm picked him up, encased him in an Auto Aviator shell and slapped a metallic head on, leaving Baloo in all-consuming darkness.

"NO!" With a jolt, Baloo awoke and realized that it was only a dream. He exhaled shakily, brushing the cold sweat from his forehead. "Oh, man, I really thought I was in...TROUBLE!" He banked sharply to the left to narrowly avoid a mountain range.

Baloo took a deep breath and got his bearings. A light on the control panel blinked. With his index finger, he tapped the fuel gauge, which read empty. "Missed the last refueling stop. C'mon, baby, tell Papa Bear you've got a little gas left." The engines sputtered and died. "No, huh?"

Baloo glided the Sea Duck into a small cove tucked between the mountains. He hopped out of the cockpit into the shallow water, a can of reserve fuel in his hand. He took inventory of the Conwing L-16's injuries. "Huh. Not bad. One bent pontoon strut. One dent in the fuselage."

The Auto Aviator's red airplane soared overhead.

"Oh, man. And one busted career."

Baloo emptied three cans of AVGAS into the tank - enough to get him to the next refueling stop - and dejectedly climbed into the cockpit. Starting the engines, he mumbled, "Well, baby, guess this ol' bear's heyday is gone. Solid gone."

Higher for Hire
Thursday
1:30 PM

It was a gloomy, overcast day. At the moment, that's just how Kit was feeling. The boy, glad that Rebecca had let him take a day off from school, sat on the walkway outside of the crow's nest. He straddled a railing post; his legs dangled over the ledge. His eyes were fixed on the gap between the mammoth cliffs. Not even the sight of the numerous airplanes and zeppelins and ships passing through the cliffs could interest him. His thoughts were consumed by a yellow Conwing L-16 and its pilot.

The reporters, et. al had left after the Auto Aviator's triumphant return several hours ago. Martin Torque had gotten his publicity. Everyone wanted to shake the inventor's hand, get his autograph and his picture, and get the robot's picture. But no one seemed to care about Kit's beloved Papa Bear. Despite a few snide comments about Baloo's big head that matched his big belly, no one mentioned him. Not one single person seemed worried that he hadn't come back. Not even the other pilots, supposedly Baloo's friends, were sympathetic. Freelancers and Khan's pilots alike had growled and grumbled over the inevitable loss of their jobs. They all placed the blame solely upon Baloo.

Kit had hated them for being hypocritical. Why, any one of them could have lost the race against the robot! He wanted to tell them all to stuff it in their windsocks. Instead, he had climbed to the crow's nest and glared down at them, pondering whether he should 'accidentally' drop spit balls on their heads.

Discouraged, Kit stood up and went inside. He walked down the two flights of stairs to the office. Rebecca was on the phone. On the way past her desk, he listened to her half of the conversation.

"Yes, I know what the papers and the radio say, but...Yes, that's true...I'm sure we can work something out. We'll fly your cargo for half price. A third of the price? No! Wait! Please don't..." Rebecca frowned at the dial tone, "hang up."

"Another one, Miz Cunningham?" Kit asked. He plopped in the easy chair and picked up his model of the Sea Duck. He absently twirled the propeller with his finger.

Expelling a weary sigh, Rebecca crossed out an entry in her delivery scheduling notebook. "Unfortunately. That's the fifth client who's cancelled in the past two hours. At this rate we won't have any left." To cover her apprehensions, she chirped brightly, "But don't you worry about it, Kit. I'm sure this Auto Aviator is just a passing fad. Next week Higher for Hire will be back and better than ever."

"Sure," Kit murmured cynically.

"Any sign of him?" Rebecca said, going over to sit on the arm of the chair.

"No, Miz Cunningham, and he should have been back hours ago!"

"I know," Rebecca murmured, concern in her voice. She pondered how she could comfort this boy, who seemed so lost and forlorn without his Papa Bear. It looked as if he could use a hug right about then, so she pulled Kit into her arms and held him close. "Where in the world could Baloo be?"

At the sound of a familiar engine, Kit gently untangled himself from Rebecca and jumped off the chair. "Here! Baloo's home! It's the Sea Duck!"

Both brown bears hurried outside in time to see the seaplane land and taxi up to the dock. Baloo banged open the door, which fell off its hinges to the dock with a clatter.

Grinning, Kit ran to his Papa Bear with outstretched arms, but stopped in his tracks when Baloo muttered dismally, "No, don't say anything."

Rebecca's and Kit's smiles of relief faded to open-mouthed shock as they watched Baloo - head hanging down - shuffle up the dock.

Downtown Cape Suzette
Friday Afternoon

On the sidewalk outside of the Cape Suzette movie theater, a newsboy waved the latest edition of the Cape Suzette Tribune, shouting, "Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Robot wins race! New-age jobs for aviation!"

Inside the theater, people munched on popcorn, slurped soda, and watched the Movie Toon Newsreel before the matinee. Threatening to render the audience deaf, the announcer boomed, "Today the aviation world is in a tailspin as Shere Khan signs a contract with Professor Martin Torque," the black and white Torque on screen grinned wildly as his eyes goggled at the pile of cash; "buying exclusive rights to the Professor's invention, the Auto Aviator."

The movie flashed to one of Khan's factories assembling the robots on an assembly line. "Khan Industries are working around the clock." A scene showing a fleet of Khan's planes soaring overhead, all piloted by Auto Aviators. "Cheap and efficient, these amazing robots have taken over the skies." The movie pictured a man nailing a 'closed' sign on a air cargo company's door. Another shipping office with an 'out of business' sign. " The city's other shipping companies are grounded, and their pilots are out of work, left without a wing or a prayer." The clip finished with a shot of pilots holding bowls, standing in a soup line.

Baloo, in living color, trudged past the soup line consisting of his former pilot buddies. Now, they all glared at the bear who had cost them their jobs.

Louie's
Saturday Afternoon

The atmosphere was no happier at Louie's. The depressed freelance pilots morosely sat at the bar. All were hunched over their fruit drinks and sundaes in silence. No one said a word as Louie replaced Baloo's photograph on the Air Race Wall of Fame with the Auto Aviator's.

Higher for Hire
A Week Later

In the dark office, Baloo sat, slumped, in the maroon armchair. His bleary eyes were fixed on the opposite wall. During the past week, if he hadn't aimlessly wandered the streets of Cape Suzette, he had been either sitting here or lying in bed. He didn't feel like doing anything, not even flying. In fact, the only thing he felt was numb. The image of the Auto Aviator's red airplane soaring overhead played itself over and over in his mind like a recurring bad dream.

Baloo wished with all his heart that this past week had been a bad dream, and that he would wake up to find things back to the way they were. His pilot pals not sore at him. Higher for Hire profitable. He and Kit taking off on a cargo run together in the Sea Duck with Rebecca and Molly and Wildcat waving from the dock.

But, as the dream Torque had said, he had been living in a dream and now that wonderful dream was over. In this horrible reality, the machines had taken over. Baloo pounded his fist against the chair's arm. If only he hadn't lost that race! This entire mess was his fault. His fault and his fault alone, and there was nothing that he could do about it. And Baloo hated feeling helpless.

Kit popped his head out of the kitchen, from which emanated the delectable aroma of fried chicken. With a sad sigh, the boy asked, "Baloo, what are you doing sitting in the dark?"

"It's dark?" the big bear mumbled, looking around dazedly. "Guess it is."

Kit flipped on the desk lamp. "Dinner's ready."

"You go ahead, kid. I'm not hungry." Baloo wearily rubbed his eyes with his palm.

The young navigator's jaw dropped. The Baloo he knew would never have turned down dinner. Eating was his third favorite sport behind flying and napping. "I made fried chicken. Your favorite."

Baloo grunted, yet remained in his seat.

"C'mon, Papa Bear, you have to eat something." Kit took Baloo's paw and dragged him into the kitchen.

Baloo dropped into a straight-backed chair. "Kit, we gotta get outta here. Outta Cape Suzette."

"But...but...where will we go?" Kit asked softly, passing Baloo a plate containing two pieces of chicken along with a steaming hot baked potato, carrots, and a buttered piece of bread.

Baloo glanced at the delicious food on his plate, but pushed it away. Not even eating could cheer him up. "Don't care. Far away from here as possible. Somewhere where no one's heard of stupid ol' Baloo, the pilot who was dumb enough ta lose a race to a gear-headed gizmo. I was thinkin' somewheres like Anaesthesia. Good place out in the middle of nowhere for forgettin' who ya are."

Kit nodded slowly as he bit into a chicken leg. The thought of leaving home made him lose his appetite. He mechanically chewed and swallowed. Then, he asked a question that he didn't want to ask. "Will we have to leave the Sea Duck here?"

After a long while, Baloo said quietly, "'Fraid so, kiddo. Becky's got the pink slip. Don't matter, I guess. A rotten pilot like me's got no business flyin' anyways." He pushed his chair back, scraping the legs on the wooden floor. "I'm goin' ta bed. G'night, Li'l Britches."

"Goodnight, Papa Bear." Kit watched the big bear leave the kitchen, then glanced at Baloo's untouched plate. His appetite gone, he stood and began cleaning up.

The Cunninghams' Apartment

Clad in a white nightgown dotted with pink rosebuds, Rebecca Cunningham stared without seeing at the open ledger on her desk in her living room. At the moment, she felt drained. Drained and stressed and guilty. Business had dropped off markedly since Baloo had lost the race with the Auto Aviator.

She wasn't mad at her pilot. She didn't blame him. He had tried his best and failed, that was all. Everyone failed sooner or later, including herself. After five months of building Higher for Hire into a profitable business, she had failed. For five hectic, yet exhilarating months, she had battled competitors, plane breakdowns, stupid shipping clerks, lost cargos, etc. She had clawed her way up the ladder of the air cargo game, but was stopped short by a machine - a wall that she couldn't get around or climb over. In fact - she reminded herself for the thousandth time - if she hadn't rented the Sea Duck to Martin Torque, none of this would have happened. Technically, all of this mess was her fault.

The petite brown bearess snapped out of her downhearted trance, yawned, passed a hand over her bedraggled hair, and headed to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have slept. She had to figure out a way to keep from getting further into debt. With no money coming in, it was impossible to make payments. Higher for Hire hadn't exactly been swimming in black ink before the whole Auto Aviator affair, and there seemed no viable solution to make money. Shere Khan - and the Auto Aviators - held the monopoly on Cape Suzette's air cargo business.

She gulped down the rest of her lukewarm coffee and rinsed her cup in the sink. She then crossed the apartment to Molly's room, opened the door and tiptoed in. The little yellow six-year-old cub was curled up in her bed, clutching her favorite doll, fast asleep. With a sad smile, Rebecca pulled the coverlet over Molly's shoulders and tenderly touched her cheek. If nothing else, she had to be strong for her daughter's sake.

Rebecca closed Molly's bedroom door quietly, then mechanically made her way to the living room couch where she sat down and stared at the waterfall rushing by the window. There was only one way out, loath as she was to admit it - close Higher for Hire and sell the Sea Duck to pay off the remaining debts. First thing in the morning she would have to call a broker.

Having to declare failure after only five months of being in business rankled. But she had more pressing problems to face. What was she going to do now? She didn't have enough money to start another business, and it was difficult, to say the least, for a woman to find a job in the male-dominated business world. Rebecca shuddered at the thought of being demoted to a mere secretary. After all, she had a MBA and managerial experience. But that's probably what she would have to take. She couldn't afford to be too choosy. She had Molly's welfare to think of.

But first things first. How would she ever tell Baloo that she was forced to sell his 'baby'? He loved that plane almost as much as Kit. And losing the plane was only the tip of the iceberg. With the closure of Higher for Hire, the staff that had become her extended family would be split up. In a flash, she realized how much she had come to depend on them, and not just as a flight crew. Would she ever see Baloo, Kit, and Wildcat again? What would she do without their support...or just without them? She quickly pushed the thought of losing her best friends out of her mind. It hurt too much to think of it.

Rebecca flipped off the lamp and laid down, burying her face in a pillow. A few tears squeezed out from beneath her closed eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. The bearess lay there for a long time, sobbing bitterly, feeling that her life was spiraling out of control. She hated feeling helpless. She was finally lulled into a fitful sleep by the soothing murmur of the waterfall outside her window.

Meanwhile at Pirate Island

The pirate captain Don Karnage and his small band of air pirates were reposing in the large cave. Karnage, a brown wolf dressed in a blue coat, was reading a pilfered copy of the Cape Suzette Tribune by torchlight. He got a fiendish idea, noting that all of Cape Suzette's cargo was now being hauled in planes piloted by machines. It was going to make it too easy to pilfer and plunder.

"I love this doodad!" he laughed, brandishing his sword. "A mechanical pilot. It flies here. It flies there. And always in the straight line. They call it the modern-day miracle. Well, my blundering protegees, I call it the sitting duck!"

End of part 2