He had always dreamed he could do it. When he was a small boy he would lay in bed at night and imagine what it would be like. Occasionally in his dreams his mind -- or his spirit, or whatever it was -- would rise from his body like a fine mist over the river on a warm summer’s evening, and he would drift up to the sky.

Roy White was a perfectly normal African-American male. He stood five feet eleven and weighed one hundred seventy-five pounds. His pleasant, normally smiling face was interrupted only by a pair of eyeglasses, which were fairly stylish. Monica Jones, Roy’s fiancee, had convinced him to swap in his pair of large, ugly glasses the year before, and even Roy had to admit he looked a lot better now. As an aeronautical engineer for a top company in California, Roy was more intelligent than the average, but not remarkably so. It was probably not remarkable then that he dreamed of levitating.

In his late twenties, Roy started reading a lot of Eastern philosophy. The subjects were always on ‘freeing one’s spirit, cleansing the mind, reaching total harmony with nature and the human spirit,’ and so on. He told himself he was only trying to ease the tension that came from long hours of designing engines that provided more pounds of thrust while using the same amount of fuel and running more quietly. In fact, he finally admitted to himself it was because he was fascinated by his dream. While laying flat on his back and willing his mind to levitate his body into the air, he excused himself as practicing the meditation all of those books extolled.

One night after years of study, having reached an unusual state of mental clarity, Roy imagined that he had actually lifted his body off his bed. It was such a peaceful feeling, and the room was so dark, it took him quite a while to realize that the ceiling actually did seem closer. When he had to turn his head to look at the bedside table, he suddenly realized that he was several feet above his bed. Needless to say, he fell back to the soft mattress with a jolt.

“What do you mean, like, you can fly?”

Porter Johnson gave a slight chuckle, ready to go along with the joke.

“No, not exactly fly,” Roy corrected his best friend. “It’s more like floating. I mean, I don’t flap my arms and I can’t go very fast, but I can move around pretty freely.”

“Roy, I’m cuttin’ you off. You’ve had too much beer!” Jimmy Thomas cut in, not bothering to be polite in his laughter.

Roy was not in the least insulted by the laughter. In fact, he felt pretty silly just telling anyone else about this. Porter and Jimmy were the only two he would trust with his ego to make such a confession.

“Guys, I know you think I’m kidding. But I really can do it!”

“Roy, my bro,” Jimmy’s voice carried just a trace of irritation, “I don’t know if you’re jerking us off or just having a senior moment long before your time. Either way, it’s just time to get real, okay?”

“Jimmy,” Roy said, giving his friend his most intense look, “I don’t blame you for this reaction. I mean, I can hardly believe it myself. But you two have known me most of your lives. If there’s anyone I could tell a thing like this, it’s you two. If you can’t believe me, who can?”

The pair stared at their friend for an eternity, or at least a couple of minutes. As usual, it was Porter who took charge.

“Okay, Roy,” he said reasonably. “It’s cool. But how ‘bout you give us a little demonstration?”

“You mean here? Now?”

“Not necessarily,” Porter tried to remain mellow. “Maybe tomorrow, or later in the week. I mean, we’re in no hurry here, are we?”

Roy was practically bursting with the joy of his amazing new talent. Not normally a show off, this was something that he really wanted to share with his friends, and definitely Monica. While struggling to remain outwardly calm, he knew his excitement could not be contained for much longer.

“Yeah,” Roy insisted. “I think we are. My place, tomorrow, seven o’clock, okay?”

“Whoa, Roy,” Jimmy said, trying to back off. “It’s cool, you know? I mean, it’s no big deal, am I right?”

“No, Jimmy, it is a big deal. I think I need to prove it to myself as much as to you.”

“Well, all right then,” Porter agreed. “Tomorrow night, seven. It’s a date,” he said, trying to make a joke of it. But no one laughed. And not much was said as they finished their drinks, and quietly made their individual ways back home.

“Hello, Mr. White?”

“Yes, who’s calling?”

“My name is Jerome Patrick. I’m with the Herald-Tribune. I was wondering if you had a couple of minutes I could speak with you?”

“Look, Mr. Patrick, if you have any questions about the new engine we’re developing, please call me at --”

“Uh, no, Mr. White, it’s not about work. It’s, uh, I guess you’d say rather personal.”

“Personal?”

Roy was instantly on guard. What the devil could a reporter be calling him about that was personal? Probably a sneaky way of getting some information out of him that the company would not reveal about the new engine.

“In what way, Mr. Patrick?”

“Well, heh heh, one of your friends called me and gave me a pretty incredible story. I mean, I’m sure it’s just a joke, but I owe it to my paper to follow up these kind of leads, no matter how cra ... I mean, how amusing they may seem. Just a couple of minutes of your time to set the record straight, okay, Mr. White?”

“You’re right. It must be a joke.” Roy hung up before the man could say anything else.

Oh, dear Lord, Roy thought. Porter or Jimmy must have told this reporter! Not that he had forbidden them, of course, but still ... What might happen if other people found out what he could do? Would it really matter to anyone, other than as a freak ability?

Not five minutes later, the phone rang again.

“Hello, Mr. Royal White?”

Roy sighed. This voice was much deeper and more professional sounding, obviously trained.

“Yes. Who’s calling?”

“Trevor Burbidge of KNOW TV, Mr. White. Our station received a report of a rather astonishing nature, and I wanted to, uh, verify its accuracy with you. Do you have a moment?”

Roy sighed again. This thing was obviously not going away.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

He had thought it was going to end quietly. Roy had put on an exhibition for them, all of the local media who showed up. Only wanting to do it once, Roy had insisted the TV station invite all of the media people who wanted to watch, which were a lot more than he had imagined. One other TV station had showed up, both newspapers, and even one radio station.

Essentially, all of the press had treated the whole thing as a joke. That was primarily because Roy had downplayed his ability as much as possible, not wanting the notoriety. He had simply risen into the air, then made one trip around the inside of the rather small studio. When asked how he did it, he claimed he had no idea. A modest man to begin with, Roy did not want the media to turn him into a circus act. He had a lot to learn about the media.

“Hello, Mr. Roy White?”

As soon as Roy answered the phone this time he recognized the tones of trouble. He felt like telling the man he had a wrong number, but, ultimately, what good would that do?

“Yes,” he said with a sigh that was beginning to feel like a part of him.

“Johnson Smithers, Mr. White, producer for ‘Fantastic Phenomena’. I assume you’re familiar with our show.”

“No,” Roy answered honestly.

“Really? It’s only the highest rated pseudo-science show on prime time!”

“Sorry, I don’t watch much TV,” Roy apologized, practically feeling the indignation of the man through the phone line.

“It stars Maury MacRegis, only the biggest name in talk show TV!”

“Ah, yes,” Roy said, not wanting to insult the man further by admitting he’d never heard of Maury MacRegis. Could that possibly be a real name, or was it one of those made up studio things? Whatever...

“Exactly. And we only put the most astounding events on the show, and get incredibly expert panelists in the field to analyze the phenomenon. That’s what makes ‘Fantastic Phenomena’ such a wonderful show, the best in its field!”

“Isn’t that a little redundant?” Roy wondered out loud.

“What?”

Oops. He had insulted the poor man again.

“I mean, well, aren’t phenomena by their nature fantastic?”

“What are you, an English teacher or something? You got something against TV?” the man asked, like the Senate subcommittee inquiring as to past affiliations with the Communist Party.

“No, Mr. Smithers, I’m an aeronautical engineer. And I’m wondering why you’re calling.”

“We got wind of this trick you do, this flying around, from our affiliate out there in Sacramento. We wanted to have you on so’s we could show you in the act, get one of our expert panels to talk about it, maybe dedicate the entire program to it instead of just one segment.”

He called it a trick, Roy thought. No polite invitation, and assumed there was someone, or even several people, who qualified as ‘expert’ in the field of levitation. Even worse, he obviously thought Roy should be flattered they would consider centering their entire program around his ability, as though it were some carny side show instead of a gift of God! Roy’s patience with this arrogant, acerbic ass was finally at an end.

“And what if I decline to perform my ‘trick’ on your program, Mr. Smithers?”

“What?” came the incredulous response.

“What if I say ‘no’?”

“Well, then we’d probably only devote one segment to it,” the man said snidely. “We already got the film on your little studio act from our affiliate. We’d have the panel in anyhow, and they’d probably be a lot more skeptical about you because you failed to show up to demonstrate in person.”

“Are you threatening to run a disparaging segment about me on national television just because I refused to perform on your show?”

“Who’s threatening?”

“Then you might just find yourself sued for defamation of character!”

“What defamation? We already got the film, so it’s a public act. It’s already news, Mr. White. All we’d do is interpret what happened, and we’d have to do that without you around to prove anything. So what are we supposed to think when we invite you to appear, and you refuse? The public’s going to draw their own conclusion, one way or the other.”

“And you’re going to have a show, one way or the other. About me.”

“That’s right, Mr. White,” Smithers said smugly.

Roy was furious. But the man was right: there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop them from airing that piece again. And he was either there to defend himself, or he left them to crucify him as a fraud and, ultimately, a fool.

“Very well, Mr. Smithers,” Roy said through clenched teeth. “I accept your kind invitation.”

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to this week’s incredible installation of ‘Fantastic Phenomena’!”

The APPLAUSE sign came on, and the audience went wild.

Maury MacRegis turned out to be a short, hyperactive egomaniac with a great smile and a bad wig who had a lot more innate charisma than intelligence. He was very shrewd when it came to handling people, of course. Roy had to admit he was infinitely more personable than the show’s producer. That was the same as saying petting a puppy was more pleasurable than stroking a dead slug, but the man was trying to make him feel comfortable. Or at least he was trying to make Roy project positive energy to his audience, which was even more important. Unfortunately, in Roy’s opinion, he had the same proclivity toward hyperbole as his producer. Maybe it was endemic to all television people.

“Tonight’s program will focus entirely on one of the most astounding people we have ever had the pleasure of introducing into your homes, my friends! Not someone who can occasionally predict the future, not a person who can squeeze his body into incredibly contorted shapes, not even a person who can actually converse with wild animals! No, ladies and gentlemen, tonight we have an exclusive interview and demonstration with a man who can, by the sheer will power of his mind, lift his body into the air and fly like a bird!”

The APPLAUSE sign came on again, and the audience applauded heartily.

“First, I would like to introduce you to tonight’s expert panel. Our first panelist is one of the most prominent magicians performing today, the magnificent Sigfried Copperfield!”

The man marched onto the stage as though he owned it. Tall and elegant, obviously comfortable in this setting, the magician intimidated Roy simply through his incredible stage presence.

“Next is a psychic whom you may remember as having been featured on this very show not one year ago. A friend of all who have lost a loved one, and a consultant to both the police and the armed forces, the astounding Madame Marianna!”

The woman was short, rotund and singularly unattractive. She swept onto the stage with long robes billowing around her. As she sat at the dais next to the famous magician, Roy shook his head once again at the selection of the ‘experts’ who had been gathered to judge the truth of his claim to be able to raise his body into the air.

“And, as usual in the effort to present complete fairness to the phenomenon we are investigating,” Maury exclaimed rapturously, “we have two panelists who are not directly connected to the field, but have impeccable credentials in areas related to the general field.”

Roy almost laughed, which even from backstage would have been heard by those excellent microphones. The way these people presented the entire affair was too ludicrous to believe. Unfortunately, a huge proportion of the American audience obviously disagreed with him.

“Our third panelist is known throughout the world as a devout man of God, and perhaps the most qualified human imaginable to judge an act of divine providence. My friends, I am proud to introduce to our show the Reverend William Grand!”

Even from backstage Roy could hear the mixed reception. Half of the audience indeed welcomed the reverend enthusiastically, while the other half seemed to give him at best a tepid response.

Roy recognized the dignified profile from countless TV and newspaper clips. The preacher’s blazing white hair made the pale complexion seem almost hearty in comparison. Although only of average height and build, the man had an undeniably commanding presence.

MacRegis’s entire demeanor changed as the clergyman seated himself. It was almost as though he was now ready to argue for the other side of the religious question.

“Our last panelist,” he intoned seriously, in marked contrast to the high intensity of his previous introductions, “was selected on the basis of objective consideration to the ethnicity of our guest. I would like to introduce to you Muhammed Mustaffa Malcolm, supreme leader of the Black Action Development Coalition.”

The applause was almost too sporadic to be considered polite as an angry looking black man stalked like a tiger across the stage. Roy was almost sickened at the introduction, having wondered why this particular man had been included on the panel. It was an incredible insult to his integrity. On the other hand, so was this entire public exposure, but what could he do about any of it? Nothing but put his best face on, which he was determined to do.

“And last, but certainly not least, it is my great pleasure to introduce to you a man who has accomplished one of the most significant individual physical feats imaginable! As I’ve already told you, and you may have seen on your local news network, the act of personal flight through the air without the aid of any physical devices! Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors, the human phenomenon of the week, Mr. Royal ‘Roy’ White!”

There was no need for the APPLAUSE sign. As he stepped around the curtain and walked onto the middle of the stage, the entire huge audience erupted into the most deafening sound Roy had ever experienced. The studio had looked like an airplane hanger when it was empty. Now, with not one seat empty of screaming, gesticulating humanity, it seemed like one of those dome covered football stadiums. It was the most frightening thing he had faced in his entire life. Roy could have sworn he was a quadraplegic as he forced his way across the stage and onto the ‘seat of honor’.

“Thank you very much for joining us today, Roy,” Maury said when Roy had settled himself in, speaking as if they were old buddies.

“My pleasure, Maury,” Roy lied.

“I think by now many people have seen clips of your amazing flight around the studio of our affiliate station in Sacramento, KNOW TV. However, for those who haven’t, we’re going to run the entire segment. As you can see, folks, Roy is lifting out of his seat. As he goes into the air, he lays down like he’s in bed, then starts slowly drifting out over the audience and around the entire studio. After nearly two minutes of flight, Roy returns to his seat, where he sets down like an Air Force helicopter landing the President of the U.S. on a bed of eggshells. Simply astonishing, Roy!”

The audience thundered its approval once more as the APPLAUSE sign blinked at them.

“As you know, my friends, Roy White will now demonstrate for us live his incredible talent! However, this time Roy will not only float above your very heads, he will also be floating out of our studio door and will actually circle the building before returning back through the doorway and into his seat! While outside, we have several cameras that will be following his flight, which our studio audience will also be able to view on the monitors. Roy, are you ready!”

Roy did not bother to answer. He closed his eyes and concentrated on lifting his body up from the chair. For some reason, it was easier when he was already laying on his back, but the director had explained it would look ‘too theatrical’ for him to lay down on something first. It took intense concentration and slightly longer to rise into the air this way, which was actually the drama the director had wanted. When Roy rose comfortably above his chair, he slowly extended his legs to their normal ‘flight’ position, and started his slow journey above the heads of the studio audience. He tried to ignore the sounds and gestures below him, keeping his mind totally on maintaining a safe altitude and rate of speed around the room.

As advertised, Roy headed for the double doors that would let him out of the building. Men were standing by each door to open and then close them for him. Cameras followed him through the building and then outside, where he rose straight to the roof before beginning to circle the building. It was fairly cold in the early New York evening, and Roy had worn a warm overcoat. He was probably not moving more than ten miles per hour, but the wind still knifed through his jacket on the far side of the building. He was glad when he got back to the lee side, and descended to return to the studio. The entire trip had taken nearly twelve minutes, during which time MacRegis had tried to provide a running commentary that was totally meaningless, but filled most of the ‘dead air’ broadcast media particularly loathe.

As he descended onto his seat, the studio audience burst into a rousing ovation without even being prompted by the APPLAUSE sign. In spite of his feelings about being forced to be on this show and put on such an exhibition, Roy could not help but be thrilled by such a display. It wasn’t often simple line engineers got any public attention, unless they had severely screwed up at their job.

Professional that he was, MacRegis beckoned with his hands to encourage the ovation without saying a word. It went on for nearly two minutes.

“Well, Roy, thank you very much!” he said as the noise finally died down. “That was even more spectacular in person than it looked on film!”

Again the audience cheered the host’s observation.

“Yeah, wasn’t that great!” MacRegis yelled back to them.

“Thank you, Maury,” Roy said as the applause abated.

“Okay, Roy, we’ve had a chance to witness this unbelievable phenomenon first hand. Now it’s time for the hard part of the show, trying to decide what to make of this. I’ll start by asking you a few general questions, and then we’ll let our panel have their say. Fair enough?”

“It’s your show, Maury.”

“Exactly, Roy! Okay, first question. How do you do it?”

“Well, that’s really hard to say. I used to read a lot of Eastern philosophy. You know, about freeing the person’s spirit, clearing your mind, reaching total harmony with nature, that kind of stuff. Eventually, I discovered that, laying quietly in bed and willing my mind to lift my body into the air, I could actually do it. After enough practice, I could control the height and speed of ascending or descending pretty well, as well as being able to sort of ‘push’ my body through the air in what you call flight.”

“That’s pretty terrific, Roy, but a lot of people have read Eastern philosophy and meditate on freeing their spirit. What is it that makes you different so you can actually use that mental concentration to fly?”

Roy had already thought long and hard about that. He gave the only answer he could.

“I honestly have no idea, Maury. I’m not a genius, not a saint, not a great philosopher, in fact not anything special that I can tell. For some reason, it seems God has chosen to give me this gift. All I can do is accept it.”

For some strange reason, the audience felt it necessary to applaud that statement. Roy simply nodded his head in acknowledgement.

“Okay, fair enough, Roy. Just an observation: I noticed you seem to like being on your back with your toes kind of pointing where you’re going. That means you have to lift your head to see where you’re going. Any particular reason for that position?”

Roy scratched his head. That was something he certainly had not thought about.

“Well, I guess because I really developed this while laying in bed, it just seemed sort of natural to stay in that position. I mean, since I’m really floating and not flying like Superman or something, it didn’t really seem to matter. It just seems comfortable,” he concluded lamely.

“Speaking of Superman, how fast can you fly?”

“Well, I really don’t think I can go too fast. I mean, I haven’t timed myself, but I suppose fifteen miles an hour would be the max. As I said, it’s really floating, not flying.”

“So you’re more of a helicopter than a jet?”

The audience got a good chuckle at that. Roy thought it was pretty silly, but it was this man’s show.

“I guess you could say that, Maury. I can hover, ascend or descend vertically, and even rotate my body position while moving or stationary. But I can’t go very fast.”

“How about height?”

“Uh, good question. I really haven’t gone up more than a few hundred feet, but I suppose I’m probably limited only by being too cold or lack of oxygen. Let me get back to you on that, okay?”

“Fair enough!” MacRegis enthused. “And now I think it’s time to get our panel involved in this discussion.”

This was the part Roy had especially been dreading. At least his host’s comments and questions had been harmless. Who knew what these people, each with their own private agendas, might say? Roy braced himself for the onslaught.

“Let’s start with the lady. Madame Marianna, your impressions first?”

“I think it’s absolutely fabulous, Maury!” the woman gushed. “When Roy was actually levitating, I could feel the kinetic force his aura puts off, showing he is a man of great mental and karmic powers. I, of course, have the ability to see such powers, and often give guidance on how to harness and channel such mystic forces! Even now, with his psychic force essentially at rest, I am drawn by the sheer magnetism of his spiritual core!”

She gave Roy a look he was sure was meant to be searing, maybe even lustful. It sent a shiver down his spine, but not of a positive kind.

“Your reaction, Roy?” Maury inquired.

“Uh, well,” Roy stammered. What could he say, that he didn’t believe the woman knew one iota of what she was talking about? Maybe that this whole program was a farce?

“I’m not exactly sure I understand what, uh, Madame Marianna meant by all that. I mean, I’ve never done anything else that would indicate such powers. I mean, those mental, psychic, karmic kinds of things. But, since I can do this, maybe she sees something I don’t.”

“Well put, Roy! Next, I’d like to get first impressions from Reverend Grand.”

“Thank you, Maury. I certainly do think this is amazing, although at this time it’s still very difficult for me to accept this ... this ... phenomenon, as you put it, Maury. I know we usually just give a quick impression at this point, but I would like to ask Mr. White a question, if I may.”

MacRegis nodded his encouragement.

“Mr. White, you said God had given you this gift. I take it you are a religious man?”

“Yes, Reverend. I’m a deacon in my church, and I consider myself very strong in my faith.”

“In that case, perhaps it’s appropriate to discuss the theological implications. When you say you are a man of ‘strong faith’, do you believe you are spiritually superior to everyone else, and that is why you can perform a miracle of the angels?”

“What! Of course not. I never claimed it was a miracle. That’s for theologians to decide, isn’t it? And I assure you I have never felt spiritually superior to any other person of faith, whether they believe in Jehovah or any other God.”

“But you do you believe this is a gift from God, a sign which makes you in some way very special?”

“I don’t know,” Roy said sincerely, trying to keep his anger in check. “I don’t think He has never singled me out for any great works in His name. I mean, I’ve never felt that God has sent me any kind of sign, has ever communicated with me personally. Yet we say all the time that a certain talent, such as a beautiful voice, extraordinary physical ability, or the ability to preach the way you do, is a gift of God. So could I deny such a thing came directly from God? Of course not. On the other hand, I can’t say with certainty that it did. I just don’t know.”

“Ah, yes, thank you, Reverend,” their host cut in as he saw the preacher about to press the attack. He had nothing against a good controversy on the show, but he had to show his ‘fairness’ to the others before he let this turn into a full-blown argument. However, along with his producer, Maury MacRegis was already envisioning big ratings for this program. “How about your first impressions, Sigfried?”

The man had been sitting back comfortably in his chair. He was trying to look as bored with the whole affair as he could. As he sat forward in his seat, Sigfried Copperfield gazed down upon the audience, ignoring Roy.

“As you know, Maury, I’ve been in the prestidigitation business for almost twenty years. Longer, if you count when I was a child playing with dime store tricks.” He smiled briefly as the audience gave him a polite chuckle. “And I’ve seen this illusion many times. Oh, I grant you,” he went on blithely, ignoring Roy in case the man was giving him a dirty look, which of course he wasn’t, “this was the best version I’ve ever seen. I mean, the guy’s an engineer, so maybe he was more clever about how he hooked up his elevation system, or arranged the mirrors, or whatever. Expanding the trick beyond the stage was really something! Unfortunately, magicians don’t like to give out their top secrets any more than countries, do they?” he asked, turning to Roy with another little smile.

“Thank you, Sigfried. Reaction, Roy?”

Roy returned the smile. “In a way, Mr. Copperfield flatters me. I think I’m a pretty good engineer, but to do what I just did without any detectable kind of mechanism would take a genius! It would require an anti-gravity device, and one that was small and quiet enough to fit underneath my clothes. At this point in time, almost more miraculous than doing it with sheer mental power!”

The great magician looked decidedly unhappy as the audience burst into another spontaneous round of applause.

“Ha ha, very good, Roy. And now we come to Mr. Malcolm. First impressions, please?”

The man glowered at the rest of the panel. When he spoke, the first thing one heard was the intensity. Then you noticed the cultured, almost calm tones that belied the burning passion, much of it anger, that the intensity implied. In spite of his pretentious sounding title, the man was obviously well educated either at institutions or by himself. His voice was like a muted gong, deep sounding and melodic.

“I believe in what my eyes beheld, what my heart soars to recognize as truth. Yet I also hear denial and deceit within this room. I hear the moral outrage of this white clergyman. Perhaps he fears this miracle means that God is black, as Jesus was born in an area of the Middle East where most people have dark skins, even though the white church has portrayed Him as being white. I hear the mocking disbelief of this white slight of hand artist. He says no other act, which are all white, can do such a thing. So perhaps this proves that the black race is becoming more clever than the white race, at least in trickery? And I hear the eagerness to capitalize on my brother’s action by this white con woman. Have you ever won the lottery, psychic? How is you love life going, anyway? My first impression is that it is typical everyone is trying to prove this brother is a fraud, as the white complex tries to deny that a black man could ever do anything that is superior to a white.”