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’ssafety. 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 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 dawns 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 Ace 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,

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