SILVERDUST THE MYSTIFYING TIME TRAVELER

by
Edward J. Longo

Science Fiction Novel
(an excerpt)

ISBN 0-9713623-8-6 . . . . . . . . . . . Sci-Fi Ebook Price $29.95

Silverdust The Mystifying Time Traveler

Responding to the needs of the those who have been unjustly downtrodden Rene' Silver's mission is to aid the suffering as well as to solve the problems of those he deems worthy of his mystifying powers.

Invariably, as an emissary of good will, Rene' reappears into the past or into the future in order to assist some underdog, or a victim of circumstances who has run into trouble. On each occasion he invents clever ways of creating energy while he is able to adjust and disguise himself to blend with the environment of the various time periods.

Collision Course: The Empire Estate Building

After racing his "Thunderbolt" 1996 motorcycle from 1st Avenue on the Upper East Side, down to Christopher Street in the West Village, Silverdust stopped abruptly, facing a garage door. He pulled out a gadget, paused in front of the large tenement building and waited until the automatic doors opened before him.

Resolutely, he drove down a winding ramp and parked inside the elaborate Silverdust underground facility.
The facility, equipped with an astonishing array of modernized furnishings, displayed a wide variety of leather outfits; computerized system boards and other technically advanced features. There, the Silverdust time-machine, a Harley-Davidson, supersonic, super-cycle, stood glimmering in all its metal. Silverdust, the 5'- 10", silver-bearded, cyclist in his late-thirties got off his bike, changed into his modernized time-travel attire, and prepared for his next emissary duty.
Switching bikes, the cyclist opened the Silverdust canopy, started the engine, and began reading the computerized message, Code: NYEmpStBld-7-28-1945 - T=9:49oc. Anticipating the task to be performed ahead he gathered up a specialized backpack and slung it over his shoulders. Quickly strapping on his helmet, he surged up the ramp, pressed a button, and the garage door raised allowing his swift exit. Suddenly, the Harley vanished.

Reappearing in the year 1945 on July 28, he motored along fifth avenue in front of the Empire State Building where countless persons and traffic were abound. While circling a radius of five blocks, the cyclist paused and advised the policemen of an emergency, and to warn passers-by to stay clear of the building. Shortly before 9:30 AM, after parking several blocks away, he dashed into the 34th street entrance of the Empire State Building and took the elevator directly to the 80th floor. Arriving there, Silverdust demanded that the tourists and other personnel take the elevators to the observatory on the 86th floor. Immediately, he hastened down to the 78th floor and began instructing people to take the elevator straight down to the lobby. At exactly 9:49 AM, with everyone scattering to clear the floors, the B-25, twin engine bomber flying well off its path, crashed into the building and ripped out an 18 x 20 foot hole between the 78th and 79th floors. Due to the impact, one of the engines jettisoned across the 78th floor, smashed through the windows on the opposite side, and crashed onto the twelve-story building below. The one engine, penetrating the penthouse of a prominent sculptor, Henry Hering, burned a hole through the roof and demolished his studio. Simultaneously, the other engine, including the landing gear and propeller, zoomed across the floor into the elevator, blasting several persons out of the cabin -- its weight forcing the elevator all the way to the subbasement.

. . . . Teetering on the 78th floor, the B-25 bomber began to smolder, then exploded and burst into flames. Reacting immediately, the cyclist rushed to the pilot and pulled him out of the cockpit to safety.
. . . . "This accident wasn't your fault." Silverdust said, as pilot in his mid-thirties, fully outfitted in his 1945 airman's uniform, clutched onto his shoulders.
. . . . "We . . . we lost our bearings." The pilot mumbled, half-dazed, staggering. "The gyroscope went haywire and we became confused." He held tightly to the cyclist's shoulders as he continued, "The next thing I knew, I saw the building stark in front of me. It's the damn Empire State Building. Damn! . . . I remember screaming. Then we collided."
. . . . "You lost a lot of blood," the cyclist said, placing a special cloth on his wound to stop the bleeding. "Are you well enough to stay conscious while I help these injured people?"
. . . . "I think so. Just get those people out of here. By the way . . . Thank you. What's your name?" He asked, holding his chest wound, grimacing with pain.
. . . . "Just call me Silverdust. Rest here a moment," he instructed, sitting the injured pilot against the bulkhead, "I've got to pull out the rest of your crew."
. . . . "Well, I can't thank you enough, Silverdust," the pilot managed, with a groan. "Colonel Smith, 457th Bomber Group," he said, reaching to offer his hand.
. . . . "Good to see you're still kicking, Colonel."
. . . . Still responding to the victims of the crash, Silverdust dashed back into the flaming aircraft and dragged the copilot and a Naval Airman from the ensuing flames. As he continued his rescue, reviving several clerical workers in the process, shrill sirens resounded as fire engines and thousands of spectators rushed to the scene below.
. . . . To the astonishment of the spectators, a female clerical worker trying to avoid a severed wing, plunged to a 72nd floor ledge and perished instantly. With little time to spare, Silverdust dug into his special backpack and unraveled a glimmering, thin-cabled ladder.
. . . . "You, sir . . ." He began, addressing the Airman, "Get a good hold onto the copilot and follow me. Don't worry." He shouted to the remaining injured persons. I'm going to get you all out of here. I'll be getting you out of this inferno to the floor below," he consoled, tossing his jacket over one of the injured persons.
. . . . With the Airman and copilot behind him, Silverdust struggled his way to the window next to the bomber and began kicking out the broken glass. Then he anchored one end of the ladder to the floor and let the other end drop until it nearly hit the 77th floor.
. . . . "Okay . . ." He indicated to the copilot, identified as a Staff Sergeant by his uniform -- bedraggled though it was. "Down you go."

. . . . Making sure the two men got down safely Silverdust stayed on the 78th floor and began helping the more than forty other survivors.
. . . . "Back to you, sir," he said, addressing the pilot as he began attempting to struggle to his feet.
. . . . "Do you think you're strong enough now to help me with these injured people?"
. . . . "Does a cat have nine lives?" The pilot remarked, not giving weight to his injuries.
. . . . "That's the attitude, captain," the cyclist said, assisting the pilot while he regained his balance. "Help those people over there, and I'll begin lowering some of these other survivors."
. . . . Staving off cascading torrents of flaming oil and gas streaming through the 78th floor, Silverdust led the many injured persons to the ladder still anchored to the floor. When everyone became lowered to the 77th floor, Silverdust being the last to go, he rolled up the ladder and tucked it under his arm while he figured out his next move.
. . . . Moving surprisingly quick, he crawled to the tail end of the bomber, secured part of the ladder to its tail, and let it unravel until it dropped below. Then, using the ladder, he climbed down and joined the rest of the survivors on the floor.
. . . . Meanwhile, as the elevator doors opened to the 79th floor, a group of firefighters emerged with hoses turned on -- water gushing from the long-nosed spouts. All their efforts became directed toward extinguishing the inflamed bomber. With water streaming down from above, Silverdust opened his backpack and removed another rolled up, thin-cabled ladder.

. . . . Working diligently now, he secured one end to the a metal beam, and then let the ladder suspend from the window. Then, he looked for the best prospect he could initiate to be the first volunteer.
. . . . "You're the first volunteer," he prodded the Airman, rather nonchalantly.
. . . . "Are you serious?" The Airman asked, staring at the ladder, becoming genuinely concerned that the cyclist was serious.
. . . . "Don't be alarmed. I'm going to lower you folks down as far as the cable will go. By then, the firemen will be ready with the nets. See. . ." he said, confidently, "they're coming in with the nets now."
. . . . "But that's a nine hundred foot drop." The Airman argued.
. . . . "Well, nine hundred and fifteen feet, to be exact. But why quibble over a few feet. Go now." The cyclist said, forcing him to stand on the lower wrung of the ladder. "Don't worry, my friend," he smiled, mysteriously, "you have state-of-the-art equipment here."
. . . . The minute the Airman placed his foot on the first wrung, all the rungs, including the cables, flipped into place and began glimmering as if by some magical force. When the others saw this astonishing feat . . . . .

END OF THIS SEGMENT

* EXPLAINATION OF THIS EXCERPT: Because of the need to protect this unusual story, the actual theme has not been revealed. Although the author continues to negotiate with various movie producers,
Silverdust the Mystifying Time Traveler remains listed on the Bowker Books Title Showcase.

Without reservation, I can recommend this book as being a good story of intrigue and suspense that will hold the reader's attention. Be assured that the story is well constructed with fictional characters that are extremely believable. Like lightning consisting of thunder, this story is full of many twists, turns and unexpected events. I Look forward to the next book by this talented author!
Gary S, syndicated columnist, New York City.

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