Venecia's Earthling

VENECIA’S EARTHLING

By

James L. Barbour

A Visionary Work

on the Developing Earth Democracies

and Advanced Life in the Universe

This may well go down as one of the momentous days in the history of modern man.

— Quote from Walter Whitfield’s emergency broadcast to the nation and the world.

COVER ILLUSTRATION

Bill and Venecia arriving at the White House with messages of goodwill and proposals for governmental reform and world order are received by the President. Bill has in his hand the exotic Magic Slate. Among other documents available through this technology is the all important Manifesto of Humankind, the Aequatanean version of a Bill of Rights and Responsibilities for all human beings and government entities on their planet; and many others that provide keys to a new world and universe.

Venecia’s Earthling

© Copyright 2006 James L. Barbour

Second Revised Edition: 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

License Notes:

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents, other than those in attributed quotations or references, are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. All characters are fictional and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

Cover images licensed by DepositPhotos.com and © Vaclav Schindler, Andrey Popov, Olga Khorkova, Markus W. Lambrecht, Anita Kwiatkowska, Silvae; and by DreamsTime.com and © Anthony Aneese Totah, Jr.

ISBN-13: 978-1624540097

Dedication

To my wife Betty whose patience, understanding and assistance enabled me to complete this work and bring it to fruition.

To my daughter Anita for her invaluable advice and fine efforts that helped ease the way for me and enhance the quality of the final product.

And, finally, I wish to pay tribute to my former boss, friend and mentor, Bernard F. Schmid, who worked tirelessly throughout his life for good organization and management in all levels of the Federal Government — and from whom I learned so much.

Author’s Note

The work which follows, while fictional in form, contains a potential blueprint of our evolving world organization and order.

The literary content, the charts and explanatory notes in particular, set out ideas intended to stimulate constructive thinking as we begin to shape our coming world and move forward through the 21st Century and beyond.

The pathway to our future world described herein includes:

Acceptance of Natural Law and Order as Universal Government.

A Universal Code of Conduct and Human Rights

Continental and World Government

A Universal Language

Universal Currency, Banking, and Economic Balance

Universal Health Care and Population Control

Reconciliation of Scientific and Religious Truths

Mental Reception and Transmission

Increased use of Natural Energy Sources

Possibility of Intelligent Life and Colonization elsewhere in Universe

Realization that, Within the Confines of Nature, Humankind is in Charge of its Own Destiny

Note: For enlarged viewing, detailed charts occurring in this work may be accessed at author’s website at www.jameslbarbour.com.

CHAPTER 1: The World in Shock and Wonderment

New York City, early 21st Century

As dawn broke over the Eastern United States, Walter Whitfield stretched awake in his bed and contemplated a leisurely game of golf with a companion. I'd better cancel out with him on that, he decided.

He suddenly remembered that he would need to be in the studio early today. In addition to preparing for his regular evening newscast, he must also formulate questions for an exclusive interview in Washington with President Leonard Cramer.

I'd better get going. He sat up in bed, taking care not to disturb his wife, Martha, and swung his feet to the floor.

Beginning his morning shave, Walter noticed a distinct absence of noise from the normal work-a-day traffic outside, as well as in the air around JFK airport. As he finished his shave his personal cell phone jangled in the unusual quiet. He knew instinctively that MBN's studios in Central Manhattan must be calling. His special private phone, always with him, was almost equivalent to the President's "Hot Line".

Whitfield here, he answered.

Walter! This is Don. We need you here in the studio as soon as you can get in, Don Rosenfelt, head producer for the Major Broadcast Network's TV news department said in an urgent voice.

What's up?

We're not sure yet. The government has activated the emergency broadcast procedures, public transportation is being curtailed, and there are spotty power outages throughout the city. We have already sent one of our vehicles to bring you in.

After finishing the call, Walter hurriedly pulled himself together.

Martha, I have to go, he called to his wife as he started for the front door.

She acknowledged his departure with a groggy good-bye. Having shared thirty-five years of marriage to a television news anchor, now the nation's premier news personality, she was used to his always being on call, always having to leave on a moment's notice.

Remembering Don's comment about the spotty power outages, Walter opted to take the steps rather than risking being stuck in the elevator. Ten long minutes passed before he emerged from the stairwell of his building and on to the street.

Where's the limo? Walter scanned the street for sight of his customary driver and Lincoln Town Car. The street was oddly vacant, though he spotted several cars near the intersection that appeared to be stalled.

Mr. Whitfield! Over here!

Walter turned toward the voice and was surprised to find a MBN paneled news van with the usual field of antennae sprouting from its top.

Walter climbed in and was surprised again, this time to see his colleague, Lief Anderson, seated in the vehicle. Something huge must be going down if the studio was calling in all the big guns, he thought. Wanting more information, he punched in the numbers to Don Rosenfelt's office on his cell phone but was unable to establish a connection. He next tried to link with the studio through the van's communication system but, for some reason, it was continuously breaking up and fading in and out.

We don't seem to be moving very fast, he grumbled, sensing that something monumental must be happening.

I'm going as fast as I can, but I believe we're losing power, the driver replied as the MBN truck rolled to a dead standstill and gave up the proverbial ghost.

Come on Lief, we'll just have to hoof it from here,

Walter said jumping from the vehicle onto the sidewalk. "We are still ten blocks from the studio.

Port Village, Maryland, thirty miles south of Washington, D.C.

Bill Brady lay in the dark, tossing from his left side to his right, unable to sleep. His appearance today in front of the Senate's Select Committee on Government Operations loomed before him. He would be accompanying his boss, the Chairman of the President's Commission on Organization of the Federal Government, to the Hill.

As the Executive Director and Chief of Staff of the organization, more commonly known as the COFG, Bill braced himself mentally for that ordeal. He had briefed the Chairman on all aspects of the prepared statement and testimony to be given at the hearing. Still, Bill had to be prepared to back the Chairman and help him to field some of the tough questions that were sure to be thrown their way. Especially by those Senators who are in bed with the special interests.

COFG's proposal included the transfer of certain safety inspection functions from the Department of Transportation to the new Department of Domestic Security. That was certain to draw fire from the transportation brotherhoods and trade associations.

Some Senators on the Committee can be real horse's asses, like old Senator Morris from New Mexico, Bill thought as he shifted onto his back and gazed at the shadowy ceiling. Morris was great on making a speech against disturbing the status quo, then throwing out a zinger of a question. He'd wait for your answer while he flashed that toothy, horse-faced smile of his, as if to say 'gotcha'. This posturing made good sound bites for him on the evening TV news.

Thinking the time must be nearing five-thirty, when he was due to rise, Bill propped himself up to glimpse the numbers on the bedstand's clock-radio.

Damn! The current must be off, he spouted when he didn't find any. Great. What am I going to do now?

Being on a private system, Bill knew he would be able to draw little water without his pump working, and it would be darn cold at that.

I'm going to look like hell for my appearance on the Hill, he groused to no one in particular as he climbed from bed and drew open the curtains. Dawn was just beginning to break the skies. He took heart. At least, there would be a little light to see by.

Having no choice, he shaved with cold water and made do with a sponge bath.

Hoping he'd successfully matched his socks to each other, let alone his suit, he made his way to the kitchen and reached for the coffee carafe. Then put it back.

No electricity, no coffee. He reminded himself and settled for a glass of orange juice from the fridge.

His fingers closed around the carton and he was pleased to find that it was still cold. How long had the power been off?

Lucrecia, his housekeeper, would be along any minute. She'd been a Godsend after the passing of his wife some years back. He didn't know what he would have done without Lucrecia helping him keep up his rambling country home.

She won’t get much done today, he said aloud, flipping the wall switch, then the radio dial to its on position, all to no avail.

It figures something irritating like this would happen to put me in a snit on this of all days, he mumbled.

Well, he wasn't going to let it get him. He'd just catch breakfast along the way to work. But first he'd grab his morning newspaper. At least that still didn't require electricity to work.

Bill stepped outside, onto the brick stoop, descended the three steps to a pebbled walkway and froze in his tracks. A giant spherical craft sat on the large empty lot, a part of his property. Almost equally startling, he found a petite blonde woman standing by his paper box ready to greet him.

Jeane? He resisted the urge to rub his eyes. This was surreal — the spacecraft, his former co-worker.... In truth, Jeane Brandon and he had been long acquaintances and more than just co-workers. But they hadn't seen each other for months.

"Jeane, what are you doing here? What is that thing doing here?" He pointed to the sleek oval-shaped silver craft that appeared as large as several seven-forty-seven airliners put together. Surely he was hallucinating.

A protective impulse swept over Bill, and he moved closer to Jeane, but she only smiled and turned.

Come on, don't you want to see it? she asked breezily and began walking toward the strange vehicle.

Jeane, wait. Are you crazy? Don't go there.

When she didn't respond, Bill tried to catch up with her. She was crazy, he decided as she stepped onto the craft's landing ramp. At its foot stood a smart looking, middle-aged man in formal military like attire.

Greetings, William J. Brady. The man gave a slight bow. I am Commander Cleophus.

Cleophus, Bill repeated dully. Jeane, do you know this guy? He wondered fleetingly if the man and his craft were part of some super-secret black project that the military could be testing — some clandestine technology, advanced beyond all expectations.

Please, come aboard. Let us show you our ship, the Commander said in a tone that was at once both persuasive and hypnotic. We would like to take you on a short flight. One takeoff and one landing. That is all.

We? Baffled and suspicious, Bill glanced to Jeane just as she reached the top of the ramp and disappeared through the hatch.

Jeane! he called after her, his pulses skipping.

When she didn't reappear, Bill looked again to Commander Cleophus. What did he or, rather, they want with him? Were they seeking his approval to gain additional funding for their pricey experiments? Jeane worked on the Hill — at what precisely, these days, he was uncertain — but he did know that she maintained a top secret clearance. She must know something about the project.

And she was aboard the craft. Obviously, she had every intention of being present on the test flight.

Bill's protective urges rode him once more. Maybe he could reason with her to give up this risky notion. He still had a little time before he needed to head into D.C. for the Senate hearing.

His long acquaintance and complete trust in Jeane prodded him forward — and admittedly, his personal feelings for her did too. Still he questioned the wisdom of his decision as he climbed the ramp, bowed his head and passed through the low hatch.

New York City

Officer, what is going on? Walter called out, spying a policeman standing beside his stalled cruiser. Walter and Lief shouldered their way through the growing crowd that surrounded the officer.

Mr. Whitfield, Mr. Anderson. Recognition of MBN's newsmen carried in his voice. There have been reports of strange happenings around Battery Park and Central Park — flying saucers or UFO's or something. I know it sounds impossible but we've been instructed to advise everybody to keep calm and stay off the streets.

We are trying to reach our studios and get out public service announcements, officer, Walter explained.

The Policeman let them pass. Now, with a better idea of the form of the emergency, Walter and Lief quickened their pace.

Do you buy what the officer said? Lief asked as he glanced skyward as though trying to get a glimpse of the intruders.

Walter looked up as well but the sky scrapers obscured the view of any strange crafts, if in fact there were any.

Reaching the MBN headquarters building, they consulted the guard at the entrance and discovered that the power was down and the elevators not working.

After scaling eight flights of steps in the dimly lit stairwell and completely out of breath, the two men finally reached studio B.

Thank God, You made it! Producer Don Rosenfelt crossed the studio floor to meet them.

What's the situation and what is this business about UFO's that we heard of in the street? Walter anxiously asked.

What we know for certain is that the government has activated the nationwide emergency broadcast system, Don replied as he ushered the men to desks just to the side of Walter's usual anchor desk. "They are imploring citizens to not panic and to stay inside until further instructed.

Due to the outage, we are off the air for the time being. We are operating on limited power and trying to maintain contact with our affiliates and field correspondents as best we can. Here are the latest reports we have. Don pointed to a stack of copy lying on the desk. Go over them and be prepared to go on live as soon as we get power and a go ahead from the Feds. Explain the situation to our listeners, as best you can for now.

While Walter and Lief thumbed through the dispatches, a make-up attendant tried frantically to improve their disheveled appearances. She attacked Lief's cowlicks and dabbed on some make-up.

Did you notice how Don side-stepped your UFO question? Lief asked as the assistant handed him a fresh jacket from the studio wardrobe.

Yes, and rather neatly at that, Walter said, working his way through the copy and making a few notes for the teleprompter.

The policeman wasn't exaggerating. He looked up at his colleague. This situation is a mess — really grave.

And changing every minute. Lief met Walter's gaze.

You pull together some notes on your thoughts and stay nearby. We can hand off as things heat up and more news breaks to catch up on.

Walter, Lief! the power is back. Don interrupted. Take your place and be ready to go live. We may not be up for long.

Walter straightened his tie and fumbled with his jacket button as he assumed his place behind the anchor's desk. A studio attendant rushed forward and attached his microphone. Meanwhile he plugged in his earpiece and checked the teleprompter to assure that it was working.

With his colleague Lief at his side and the cameras in place, Walter waited for the cameraman to give his cue.

We are ready to go Walter, the producer prompted. With that, SPECIAL REPORT flashed on the screen at exactly nine A.M. and the cameraman signaled Walter that he was live.

Good morning fellow Americans and viewers around the world, I am Walter Whitfield. We are now resuming our anything but normal broadcast operations following the activation of emergency broadcast procedures and requirements of the Federal Government. This may well go down as one of the momentous days in the history of modern man.

Facing a second camera, he continued, "Fragmented reports are coming in as we speak, and as more is known, it will promptly be reported to you. At this hour in our UBN headquarters this much is known:

"Today, shortly after dawn Eastern time, oval-shaped spacecraft — of the kind commonly referred to as 'UFO's' — were sighted in multiple locations. This time, the sightings cannot be dismissed as mere imagination, wild-eyed speculation, or the claims of self-serving publicity seekers.

"Rather, the craft are in plain view for all to see. Not just one, or a few, but substantial in numbers. They are presumed to be extraterrestrial and are currently hovering over, or have landed, in several major capitals and military installations around the world.

"Some major centers are totally without power and paralyzed at this moment. Here in New York City, spacecraft are reported as hovering over Central and Battery Parks at this time. Public and private transportation is at a standstill, and there are power outages throughout the city.

"In Washington, D.C., spacecraft have landed at several strategic points on the Capital Beltway and all rush hour traffic is at a standstill. Many occupants of these vehicles staff vital operations in and just outside of the Capital City, including those conducted at the White House, Congress, Pentagon and Central Intelligence Agency among others.

"At this time, the President, his key staff and Cabinet Officers have been taken