13thWR

OF BECOMING A PARTRIDGE / by Nelson James Dunford

"Daedalus was so envious of his nephew's performances that he took an opportunity, when they were together one day on the top of a high tower, to push him off. But Minerva, who favors ingenuity, saw him failing, and arrested his fate by changing him into a bird called after his name, the Partridge. This bird does not build his nest in the trees, nor take lofty flights, but nestles in the hedges, and mindful of his fall, avoids high places." - Thomas Bulfinch

Allow me to demonstrate my unusual ability at flight. The starting position is a low crouch upon a level surface such as this lawn. You will notice that the feet are flat upon the ground, parallel, and about one foot apart. The knees are forward and bent in such a manner that the buttocks have settled very nearly to grass level. The torso is erect above the hips without a trace of either backward or forward bend of the spine. The chin is held high forcing the face into a slight skyward tilt that the eyes may train themselves upon the contemplated destination. The arms are held stiffly out on either side, at right angles, and the palms are turned down.

The first pre-flight motion consists of revving up the forelimbs. This is accomplished by flexing the shoulder muscles in such a way that the extremities under their control rise and fall. The pseudo-wings remain rigid and the length of the curve described by the hand increases in direct proportion to the speed attained by the lifting mechanism. flight should be initiated at that point where a maximally comfortable arc and velocity have been achieved.

When that moment is reached, the leg muscles are brought into play. They are relaxed to allow further sinking of the rear end, and then forced rapidly into a condition of extreme tension. When full stretch is obtained, the soles leave the ground, rendering the body airborne. All the while, the propellant members continue in motion.

Had I not chosen to halt my flapping just now, I would have remained aloft. But this is merely a demonstration of takeoff, not of sustained flight. I therefore have lowered my arms and stand planted now on the ground before you.

I have long been a student of man in the sky, from Icarus to and beyond the Wright brothers. The truest finding of my studies has been that in both myth and fact we have missed the point in most of our attempts to conquer the heavens. Only a few non-humans of fantasy have ever attacked the subject properly. For instance, one inhabitant of the planet Krypton who was transplanted to earth, a creature named Superman, flies without artificial aid. Man himself, though, can and should accomplish this. I am convinced of the truth of my premise, and it is for this reason that I have devoted my life to the conquest of the atmosphere without recourse to artifacts.

My interest in flight began when I was a child. I was then susceptible to an illusion of falling during moments just after being put to bed, when I was not yet unconscious. Each time this occurred, I would scream. Either mother or father would come to comfort me. Gradually it dawned upon me that the necessity of their attending to me every night in this manner was annoying to them. It was thus that I developed a method of flight as a means of rescuing myself without adult help.

I did not at that time develop the whole launching procedure which I now know is necessary. The mere flapping of the arms was sufficient back then to counter the effects of imagined gravity. Having made this discovery, the home of my childhood was once again a peaceful place, come the evening. I would drop off and then soar through the night, spiraling ever upward into the dawn.

As the sun rose, I would glide back under my covers. In the morning, my parents would find me refreshed and ready to face another day.

As the years passed, I concentrated during times of darkness upon the further development of my power of flight. As my skill at this art increased, I found many daring and unusual uses for my talent. If during the day, I had been punished for some misdemeanor, I would repeat the criminal act at night but would escape punishment by flying away from my accuser. I had such adventures with mother, with father, and with various teachers.

A use of my ability that enchanted me more, however, was getting the better of the school bully.

There was a boy in my class named Billy. He was not a bright child. He had been kept back twice and was two years older than the rest of us. He delighted in picking fights. I was subjected to his abuse many times during the day, but at night I had the upper hand.

Taking off from my bed, I would fly in search of Billy the bully. I would swoop down on him, injure him, and then disappear into the clouds. One night I gave him a bloody nose. Another, I knocked out two of his teeth. Poor lad never knew what hit him.

At first, during practice maneuvers, I had trouble remaining airborne and using my fists simultaneously. Until this problem had been solved, I had not dared to seek out my nemesis. Then I thought of using my legs for the attack.

I would drop down in front of my prey, arms flapping vigorously, and would hover with one foot suspended directly in front of the part of his anatomy I wished to attack. He would be so startled that he would not think of counterattacking. I would flail out with the positioned toes, leaving Billy the bully bawling with a black eye, a bruised chest, a throbbing testicle, or a crippled calf. &fore he recovered his composure, I would be gone.

Other nights, I would joyfully soar among the clouds, relishing die memory of many successful defeats of my playground enemy. It is indeed true that air power is a decisive factor in war. One of the benefits to the human race that will accrue from my endeavor to put man properly in the sky will be the surety that the nation whose troops master my technique will win. I am troubled though that I am not certain to which nation my secret should be revealed.

Not until I was in junior high did flight begin to occupy my waking hours as well as my time asleep. I became interested in both the factual and the mythological history of aviation. I read voraciously in any books I could find on the subject, and had soon determined that when I went to college I would study to become an aeronautical engineer. I talked about flying to both friends and relatives, but I kept my night talents to myself. Even when I discovered a method of day soaring, I was not ready to tell the world of it.

During one summer vacation, I learned my first system of sunlit air travel. I came upon it through the good offices of a friend who used the basic technique but attained different results. Because of this lack of universality, I have never before this moment revealed the procedure.

My friend, John, and I were in his yard. We were bored with croquet but weren't in the mood to use the archery range behind the garage.

My buddy asked in an offhand manner, "Did you ever faint?"

"No," I answered.

"It's the funniest feeling. You have all sorts of queer thoughts."

"Like what?"

"You think you're doing things you never can do when you're conscious. Like I imagine I'm playing a perfect croquet game."

"Have you passed out often?"

"I've got a way to make myself do it."

"How?" I asked.

"Well, this way - "

He stuck his thumb in his mouth and began to blow very hard so that his cheeks got all puffed out. At the same time, he spun around and around. His face turned blue. All of a sudden, he fell to the ground. The digit-plug popped out of his mouth and he lay perfectly still. I was about to shake him when he opened his eyes and sat up.

"There," he said, "that's how I do it. The trick is not to let any air get out. Then you blackout and have beautiful dreams."

"Do you think it would work for me?"

"Sure. Anyone can do it."

I stuck my thumb in my mouth, but took it out at once. "I feel silly," I said.

"Go ahead - try it. There's no one here but me to know."

I plugged my mouth again and began to blow. I spun and I spun and I blew as hard as I could. All at once I was spiraling high into the sky like a hawk on an updraft. I looked down, down, down for miles into John's yard. It was so far below me that I couldn't see the croquet wickets. I could barely make out the brightly colored balls lying around on the lawn.

Then all at once I found myself stretched out on the grass, looking up at John.

"Well - how was it?" he asked.

"Great!" I replied.

"What did you see?"

"Well. . ." I started, but cut myself short.

This was not a thing to be revealed casually. I invented a story about a perfect archery shoot.

We started up with croquet again. We played for the rest of the afternoon, until it was time for me to go home for supper.

This was the foundation upon which my adulthood was erected. Through the rest of my school years, I continued both historical and practical studies of aerodynamics. I never let up on night flying acuity. I also partook of day flights when I was alone in suitable places. I rounded out my education with a B.E. in aeronautics and after that landed a job in the R&D lab of an aircraft manufacturer.

At first, I enjoyed the work. The absurd falsity of what I was doing ate away at my soul though, until I was only able to continue by an unstinting application of dogged willpower. My free hours were spent exclusively in thought about the special problem I had long since posed for myself. These sessions of cognition brought me at last to the point of being the world's sole master of artifact-free human flight.

The last step on the road to my success was taken one evening after a day when I had worked overtime at the plant. That was when the proper embarkation position (described at the start of these pages) came to me. I stepped out into the back yard and lowered myself into the prescribed crouch. I began the necessary upper-limb movement. I only allowed my palms the most gradual increase of speed and arc. When I felt I had reached sufficient intensity for a launch, I cut the experiment short in order to review and study what had passed. This was too important a

I spent that night and the next day mulling over what had been accomplished. By the time I had finished supper the following evening, I was sure that all was in readiness. I went again to the rear of my house and assumed the position. I built my upper-body activity up to its apex. Then I put my leg muscles to work - and was, in a flash, airborne. I stopped though, plopping down at once mto a standing pose.

I knew now that my system worked. That was enough for the moment. For the time being, I would satisfy my desires for sustained aerialism through either the faint or the sleep fantasy-method. But the waking plan did work. When the season was ripe, I would take off for a demonstration soar into the clouds, before a proper audience.

I thought at first of giving my secret to my employer. I soon realized that such a discovery as mine would cut sharply into the sales of artificial flying aids such as those the corporation manufactured. Knowing the business mind as well as I did after years of observing it, I surmised that the executive reaction would be to establish a committee that would decide to suppress my work.

My new way to fly would have to be revealed directly to the people. This would require my resignation from the firm and the subsequent self-support of an education endeavor directed at the common man. I began to live frugally in an attempt to save capital with which to commence my crusade.

I moved from my expensive house into a cold-water flat. I ate nothing but the cheapest canned foods. I bought nothing for my person - not even razor blades. At first people laughed at my beard, but soon they accepted it. I trimmed my own hair with a pair of nail scissors. It took me over a year to acquire a large enough fortune. Finally, I had the money I needed.

With my assets stashed in a money belt fastened around my middle and with my clothes secured over that, I went to the R&D Director.

"Sir," I said, "I am resigning."

"What?" he belched as he looked up over his reading glasses.

"I said, sir, that I intend to resign."

"Don't be ridiculous. We'll give you a raise."

"I am serious, sir. I have a message I must bring to the world."

The boss grinned broadly. "All right, messiah - what's the good word?"

"The secret of flight. Real flight for men. Not an artificially contrived substitute."

"Oh?" he asked.

"I do not intend to reveal my secret here."

"Then don't. How much do you want? You know you won't get that much, but I can squeeze something out."

"Sir," I said, "I am serious. Let me demonstrate."

I crouched down into the starting position. The Director stood up and peered over his desk at me. He pulled his glasses off and let his mouth drop open as I began to flap my arms.

"What in the world do you think you are doing?" he inquired.

"I'm preparing to launch, sir," I snapped back.

Having revved up enough, I cocked and released my leg muscles. I rose from the carpet.

I had forgotten about the money belt, but realized now that I was over-weighted for flight. I came down at attention in front of the gentleman to whom I was tendering my resignation.

"Had I chosen to continue my activity," I lied, "I would have become airborne. That is a feat I cannot afford to demonstrate to you, however."

At least the second statement was true, and the first was only a slight fib. My capital assets, fortunately, had saved me from going too far under these circumstances.

"Perhaps you should see the company doctor," the bigwig suggested.

"Not at all, sir," I said. "I am simply resigning.

With that, I walked out of the office of the R&D Director. And out of his plant. And out of his life.Now I am in search of those who deserve to know my secret. Have you any friends or acquaintances who might like to fly?

I am available as an instructor. My fees are minimal. I charge nothing to those who cannot afford to pay.Simply call me anytime. At home.

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