The Great Ark

by T. C. Driver

  (30) And every base had four brazen wheel, and plates of brass; and the four corners there of had under setters; under the laver were under setters Molten, at the side of every addition

  (31) and the mouth of it within the chamber and above was a cubit; but the mouth there of was round after the work of the base, a cubit and a half: and also upon the mouth of it were their boarders, four square, not round! (32) And under the boarders were four wheels; and the axletrees of the wheels were joined to the base; and the height of a wheel was a cubit and half a cubit!

  (33) And the work of the wheels was like the work of a chariot wheel: their axletrees, and their naves and their felloes, and their spokes were all molten.

  (34) And there were four under setters to the four corners of one base: and the under setters were of the very base itself!

  (35) And in the top of the base was there a round compass of half a cubit high: and on the top of the base the ledges there of and the borders there of were the same

  The artist in the bible was trying to build something in the temple by description! I thought about how the spheres became translucent showing inside parts even spokes and wheels. How would I describe the tabernacle I just saw to build another?

  “Let us not linger any longer now that our worship is done,” said Captain Coe!

  Joe first, then myself, crawled up our ropes. The early morning sunrise was still just coming up on the horizon. We had no idea that it was now days later. Joe pulled to help me up over the edge of the ledge. The weather was now frightful a roaring whirlwind as if we were under attack surrounded us. We on this high flat top mountain were formally high above the clouds. Now we were at the center eye of the storm. We sat in the plane very weary of taking off. Praying and thanking God for letting us worship in one of his ancient tabernacles. This was a Holy place that had been dedicated to God. Joe told me a story about how the ancient local Indians believed that Thunderbirds helped God create the world in six days that lasted 1,000 days each. The Indians believed that they lived on top of a high mountain way above the clouds. I thought about the day of our Lord lasting for a reign of one thousand years but just then finished my flight checklist.

  The B48 fired up on its first start up sequence, the powerful roar was a welcome sound to the howling wind on the mountaintop. Our planes wings slowly stretched out sideways to their full length; as they did the wind jolted and rocked or plane as it buffeted those wings. When the dash light turned green I “popped the clutch” in back home terms. We dropped like a rock off the edge of the cliff for we were too close for take off. After dropping a few hundred feet we roared upward, as we gained speed our long wings folded back up. Joe Coe laughed and hollered.

  “The Indians called them Thunderbirds Cornelius. Do you see anything around here that looks like a Thunderbird ole’ Corney?”

  “Just us wanna be Sons of God,” I answered. Our plane was climbing vertical now, inside the raging whirlwind around us.

  “Stop, Cornelius, that’s an order!” Joe yelled I climbed right out of the cloud cover; as our plane peaked the top of this rollercoaster we flipped over backward for added dramatic effect. Then I was earthward bound with full after burners on.

  “Sorry Joe, what did you say? The engine is so loud that I can’t hear!” Joe went quiet with a stern frown look on his face. Our dive was half over, all computers were turned off. This was my only chance. Suddenly without fanfare it happened, most engine noise just vanished. We were out running our own sound. Peace at last…. sweet peace at last.

  I pulled back on the throttle and leveled off, lowering my head in shame now for breaking the rules.

  “Sorry Joe I could not hear you for a minute” The vibration and full engine noise came back as quickly as before just as I was speaking.

  “You’re on your own with Friday ole Corney. I warned you,” said Captain Coe, “He can ground you”.

  We landed on the ship but then everything went black. I don’t remember anything else. I woke up in medical. I could hear Captain Joe shouting and raising hell from across the hall. Friday was shouting back, yelling at Joe at the top of his lungs.

  “What happened to you two, where were you? How did you end up in that trainer up on flight deck with the landing gear broken and the plane run completely out of fuel? You yourself shut the flight deck down. Boson mates found you two and brought you to sick bay. We thought you were both dead. You both have been out for three days Joe. I had to take control of the ship because you were in no condition to lead. There was also a very odd looking storm on shore, I had to move the ship! Did you take drugs or what? #*#*#*#*#*#*#* Friday then started cussing like a sailor (ha-ha). He then quickly stormed by my room shouting these three words. “STICK IT CORNELIUS!” All the while putting his arm through my open door with a one finger salute!

  “Three days” I thought to my self. I then looked at the calendar and thought about just what might be involved in crossing seasons. As I got dressed I told the ship nurse helping me that I was fine because more tests had been ordered. Mel met my giant when he crossed seasons to help me I thought, why is that so? I was off duty and would have time to think later. I walked into the doorway of Joe’s room across the hall paused and walked in unannounced. Joe was putting on his white dress captain’s coat.

  “Seen any Thunderbirds lately there Joe? I asked.

  “I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT” Joe Coe snapped back.

  “You’re holiness ain’t yea Joe. The sleep paralysis the giant, the whole nine yards……You’re just like me!”

  “Get the hell out of here, Cornelius. We will not speak of this further or ever again! Do not cross me, OUT!

  “Joe had learned, like me, from childhood to never speak of going were you are not. I was very confused, did we visit Mel’s church the golden tabernacle in body or in spirit! I knew we had been there but things didn’t line up with the facts. We did fly to the mountain, but to enter the tabernacle required Mel’s help, in crossing seasons again. So how long were we gone, and how long in sick bay? I never did figure it all out! Why would people lie anyway?

  Out on deck Lou Goodliar met me as I walked!

  “Hello Cornelius” whispered Lou. “There was the weirdest weather on shore for the last three days. Did you see it Cornelius?”

  “Do you mean the whirlwind Lou, the storm?” I replied.

  “Yes, so you did see it Cornelius, the colors and the swirling clouds,” said Lou.

  “I had a very good view of it Lou, and yes it was wonderful!”

  “I’ve seen a lot in my time,” bellowed loud Lou but nothing like the storm of this morning, Cornelius nothing ever like it.”

  I slept the next day into the afternoon. It would be four days before I was returned to flight duty. I repeated Jeremiah 33 verse 3 often before dosing off from my memory now. Just like the 23 Psalm this verse would be with me forever.

  Call unto me, and I will answer three, and show thee great and mighty things, which thou knowest not!

  When I came out of my cabin the great horn of the Americas was upon us. Many people were out on my high deck balcony. It was crowded. For countless years sailors have talked and bragged about the great horn; where the oceans collide together in a clash of glory, tempest, and rage. Old sailors like me talked about the great horn to their grand kids. Today would be no major deal in the Great Ark. Still you don’t do something like this every day. People always mark the passing. I was truly impressed once again by the roar of nature. At least fifteen hundred people came out on deck to witness or record the crossing. People were on many other balconies or perches around the ship besides mine; all persons paying due respect to the great horn and all it’s furry. The waves and spray did a wonderful job of entertaining us. How blessed we were on the Great Ark. The sprinkle system came on afterward to wash us down and limit salt damage from sea spray just after the crossing. The wash system got more people wet than the horn did, but also showed due respect that day. It was great to have unlimited amoun
ts of fresh and hot water on board. This moving city at sea had plenty of everything.

  Our next stop was an island at the bottom of the South Atlantic called George; just another big rock. There was a habitat camp there like the ones we built in the South Pacific. We brought supplies fuel and also replaced a wind turbine. I met a man named Gerald Williams from UVA in Virginia. He was the one evidently in charge of making these habitats that we were placing everywhere for a company based in Canada. He was upset about UVA closing down its football team for safety concerns, a trend across the American nation spearheaded by MAIDDS, or Mothers against idiot dangerous deadly sports. UVA was a leader in this movement and was often bragged about by Osoma. Williams was on his way to Antarctica somewhere to check on extreme weather habitats. He had a lovely wife Annie with him, “what a babe” (Yes he married very well) Annie was a germ researcher and a nurse. She could smell you and tell you what sickness you had (ha-ha). She also gave me a book about the forced closing up of the football program. Some professor had proven that players had actually lost IQ during there stay in the UVA football program, and had came out of the school dumber than when they started. This elite professor figured it was due to the violence in football. Many of these players could not even write down their name and home address, or remember the last names of all of their baby mommas. This made it hard for the school to pay these mothers their expected checks.

  This nice Williams couple didn’t want to argue politics or the Holy Bible much. They also knew my old Navy friend Seaman First mate Franklin A Donner. Donner had told them that I was nuts or something to that effect. They must have misunderstood, that does happen a lot at wild yacht parties you know.

  The ship had orders to give Williams anything and or everything he needed or wanted. He was well known about the ship as the “Cowboy hat Guy.” Williams was a good card player and took Duck, Tommy, and Obie Carter for more money than they will admit to even today. After Gerald checked out, tested and approved the George Island, an important supply and fuel point for his Antarctic trip, we parted ways. Williams headed south to the fringed cold with Annie babe to keep him warm and the ship headed north, up the west coast of Africa this time around. I was surprised when Annie gave me a big hug as they left!

  “Craig just missed you at the Boat party, he says hello” said Ann, and “thanks for the free Ark tickets for Gloria, Sarah’s mother. She was still alive and loved a good cruise, even though she was very old. I was a little bit tipsy that night of the big boat party so I pretended to know what Ann was talking about. Drunks and old people have to fake knowing stuff a lot. Ain’t it funny, sometimes you just don’t know what you don’t know!

  End of Chapter eight

  Chapter nine: Drive by on Africa

  During the evenings blowing bitter cold and rolling seas, the Ark pulled away from the George Island. I had a dentist check up that day, it was mandatory. This appointment made it necessary for me to walk by Damage Assessment or brave the blowing cold. This was the only way now to get to medical. It is always best to avoid the Damage Assessment office and the Damage Assessment personnel at all cost. They are all crazy, or simply idiot insane. I tried to sneak past the open door, but little Tony Reiker called to me and waved me into his office. This is where the really weird ones love to work. These men are the bananas in the fruit salad so to speak. Tony stood up grinning!

  “Look at this Cornelius these pictures are to your cabin and your phone and in this morning’s mail.

  “Not more of those nasty beetle Bomb photos?” I groaned with my hands up in the air.

  “No,” promised Tony… “Captain Joe ordered these photo grids of the Ice shelf for that Williams guy; the man who wears the cowboy hat for that Antarctic trip.”

  Damage assessment nut jobs blow up photos on back lit boxes like doctors do x-rays. They also wear white lab coats and talk in fancy lingo or silly acronyms so nobody knows what in the hell their talking about. Just like most morticians these men are driven half crazy from the mess they have to look at every day. DAPS (Damage Assessment- photos) are often discussed by pilots, and shown in flight briefings always referring to number and grid. AMK416G20133 is the photo Tony is pointing at today. Thousands of hours of digital photos are searched by computer. So many photos are taken that most are never seen by human eyes. The very disturbing flesh eating beetle pictures were popular when new and exciting, but are old hat now. Yes the Beetle Bombs were a big environmental success story. There is some evidence that the genetically modified beetles have started cross breeding with African Locust and are eating all vegetation in sight. This has not been confirmed but could add billions more to sales if true. The poison water stations used at Taco Station have not as yet been approved by environmentalist groups for use in Africa because some lions were accidently poisoned when eating the poisoned Africans. Osoma showed this world his love of the planet earth and his faithfulness to going green by increasing the kill rate in Africa at the cost of his own family. Now he has done even more by stopping the oil companies from increasing energy supplies here in America. Poor people in South Chicago started to freeze to death in record numbers this last winter. What little money America was now allowed to spend by the World Bank Osoma spent on killing off all the Africans and thus saving the rest of the world from global warming.

  “Now listen, Cornelius this is important. Osoma can’t solve all the worlds’ problems over night”. Tony said. “Look at these circles” Tony snarled. “Nobody cares about Osoma any way no one can beat him why even try. We have found thirteen and blown them up to full size. All are very much the same. Not really true impact craters they all have a flat spot of ice in the bottom.

  Cornelius pointed with his cane. “Looks like somebody’s thirsty Tony!”

  “What?” Tony answered!

  “Tony, what if you owned a spaceship, and wanted a big drink of fresh water? Where would you go in this solar system to find a good supply? You would need clean water that is not being used with very few people around?

  Tony looked at the rings in the ice once again, all with frozen flat ice at the bottom. “Ok, Cornelius, what about these odd marks in the ice all around those circles?

  “Tony, what would you do if you landed a sailboat on an island after a long voyage? What would the kids do while you refreshed your water tank or went fishing? They would play there next to the boat in the sand. Don’t go off too far, you would warn them strongly. Mom and Dad might even join the kids themselves.

  “David Booth told me that same stupid story Cornelius, said he saw it on TV. Thanks for nothing yelled little Tony. You fancy officers always try to make fun of us. I really need and want an honest opinion for my report to Williams, not a joke off of a TV show. This is no joke! Here is a joke for you Mr. funny man Ole’ Corny.”

  “How can a professional damage assessment scientist tell the difference between a dead Palestinian, a dead Taliban leader, or an Al-Qaeda-Hamas terrorist after a fire bomb attack (ha-ha)?” The skinny Palestinian will flame up and go out fast because they don’t eat very well. The dead Taliban leader will just smoke and smolder because they sweat so much and they just pissed all over themselves when the plane flew over. But the oily head band of an Al-Qaeda or Hamas terrorist will wick up and the gas filled body will burn like a candle for days on end. They often have to be pissed out by our brave troops.”

  “That joke is really sick, Tony.” It fits you somehow. Tony you’ve been in the DA bizz too long. Take a break Tony you need one, I hear Mexico is nice this time of year.

  “Let me know Cornelius, I’ve got a report to write. Text me back yelled Tony. “That crazy old man probably does believe in UFO’s,” muttered Tony under his breath as I walked away.

  True to form, as the ship got close to Africa, about two hundred military types came aboard along with twenty plus bug like predator drones. We started bombing again as soon as the extra drones landed. What the Hell, I mean we’re in the neighborhood anyway we might as well bomb some Af
ricans.

  Some people matter in this world and some don’t. Africans, they don’t count for much. They are even lower than sex offenders. Not even American blacks care about poor dumb Africans. American President George Bush sent many billions to Africa trying to impress American blacks that he cared. They laughed at Bush behind his back. He thought American blacks had a heart for helping Africans. Hell no! Most blacks are ashamed of Africans. Much of the Bush African aide was mopped up by pharmaceutical companies anyway so the “kill off all the Africans” plan was not slowed down much by George. At least he slowed down the killing, at least he tried (ha-ha). The total amount of money raised in black American communities or Churches and sent to Africa each year over the last sixty years would be, on average, not enough to buy a good pair of little league baseball uniforms. Osoma himself is famous for having a brother in Africa living in a hut on twenty dollars a month. Do you think he ever sent him a card with $5 in it for Christmas? I’m sorry, I forgot the family is Islamic.

  All Africans must die so that the world can be saved from global warming. The lion must be allowed a place to live; the Rhino needs grass to roam free. Africa must be saved from development. Only ungodly Democratic socialist elites have the leadership and courage necessary to make these tough decisions. We all must trust men, like Osoma, to lead! They know what is best for the world, and what is fair for us Americans. Osoma’s plan to triple electric utility rates and triple gas prices to save the world is a decision based on a false religion not science. Any maniac who would stop a pipeline across America even as oil prices went through the roof killing his own friends and neighbors, and at the same time shut down the gulf oil production is a man at war with progress and a man at war with America. Stupid spoiled American crybabies elected an Islamic terrorist to their own White house. Sad but true, the problem is me and you.