Back to the Future Part II Page 2

  Jennifer turned from where she too had been gazing out the window. She looked at both Marty and Doc with that same, cautious expression Marty had seen when he announced he had been gone for a week and she had seen him the day before.

  ‘The future?’ she asked tentatively. ‘Marty, what do you mean? How can we be in the future?’

  Marty tried to think of a good way to explain things. He decided there wasn’t a good one.

  ‘Oh, well,’ he tried anyway, ‘you see, this is actually a time machine.' He patted the dashboard.

  Jennifer continued to stare at Marty. ‘Doc built a time machine out of a DeLorean?’

  Marty grinned and shrugged.‘That’s Doc.’

  ‘I figure if you're gonna build a time machine in a car,’ Doc agreed cheerfully, ‘why not do it with some style!’

  ‘And this is the year - 2015?’ Jennifer pointed at the main digital time display.

  ‘October 21 2015,’ Doc repeated with a hint of pride at his accomplishment.

  ‘So, like, you weren't kidding? We can actually find out what happens to ourselves!’ Jennifer got this funny little smile.

  ‘Now, did you say we were married? And we’ve got kids?’

  Her smile got larger, as if she liked the idea.

  ‘How many kids?’

  She giggled.

  ‘Was it a big wedding?’

  She was getting really excited now, looking all around Hill Valley as the car descended.

  ‘Where do we live? Are we happy?’

  She turned back to Marty, her eyes almost too bright.

  ‘What about -’

  Doc leaned over, holding a silver, penlight-sized device in front of Jennifer’s face. The penlight-thing strobed a blue light in Jennifer's eyes.

  Jennifer slumped in her seat, sound asleep.

  ‘Doc!’ Marty objected. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Relax, Marty,’ Doc Brown reassured him. ‘It’s just a sleep-inducing alpha rhythm generator. She was asking too many questions. No one should know too much about their future.' Doc glanced at her again. Jennifer snored softly. ‘This way, when she wakes up, she'll think it was all a dream.’

  All a dream? Marty still didn’t understand.

  ‘Jeez, Doc, then why bring her?’

  ‘I had to do something!’ Doc insisted. ‘She saw the time machine, and I couldn’t just leave her with that information.’ He gave Marty his best mad-scientist grin. ‘Don’t worry. She’s not essential to my plan.’

  Marty looked doubtfully at the smiling Doc and the sleeping Jennifer. Still, he had to have some faith in his inventor friend. After all, this was the same man who got him safely out of the past and back to good old 1985 - even though Marty hadn’t stayed there.

  ‘Well,’ Marty replied slowly, ‘you’re the Doc.'

  Doc Brown turned his attention to the controls as they began their final descent. They landed in an alley between two buildings, an alley that didn't look all that different from alleys in 1985.

  Doc flipped off half a dozen switches.

  ‘First,’ he told Marty, ‘you’re gonna have to get out and change clothes.’

  ‘Doc!’ Marty pointed at the ongoing flood on the other side of the windshield. ‘It’s pouring rain!’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  Doc glanced at his watch.

  ‘Wait three more seconds.’

  The rain stopped. Doc’s head bobbed with satisfaction.

  ‘Right on the tick.’ He glanced wistfully up at the sky. ‘Too bad the post office isn’t as efficient as the weather service.’

  Doc and Marty pushed open the DeLorean s gull-wing doors. Marty climbed out of the car. But when he turned back to Doc. it looked like the inventor was peeling off his face! ‘Excuse the disguise. Marty,’ Doc explained mid-peel, ‘but I was afraid you wouldn’t recognise me. I went to a rejuvenation clinic and got an allnatural overhaul. They took some wrinkles out, did a hair repair, changed the blood - added a good thirty or forty years to my life. They also replaced my spleen and colon.’ He pulled the last of the goop from his face and ran a hand though his tangled hair. The hair stayed tangled. ‘What do you think?’

  Marty had trouble not staring at the new, improved Doc Brown. He didn’t look that different, really - but he did look better. Younger. Many of the wrinkles were gone, and there was more of a sparkle in his eyes.

  ‘You look good. Doc,’ Marty answered slowly. ‘Real good.’ Staring at his slightly dewrinkled friend, his surroundings had really begun to sink in. So this actually was 2015.

  ‘The future!’ It didn’t look all that different in the alley - Marty guessed that alleys were alleys - the trashcans were a little newer and nicer, maybe. Marty bet it would be really different, though, out on the street. He took a couple of steps away from the car. ‘Whoa, I gotta check this out!’

  ‘All in good time, Marty. We’re on a tight schedule here.’ Doc pulled a small silver satchel - sort of a gym bag of the future - from the back of the DeLorean. ‘Here’re your clothes.’

  Marty looked back at the inventor. ‘So, Doc, like what about my future? I make it big, right?’ He paused a minute, trying to figure out what would be his most obvious future. ‘I'm - what - a rich rock star?’

  Doc waved the question away with his free hand. ‘Please, Marty, no one should know too much about their own destiny.’

  ‘Sure, Doc. Right.’ That's right, Marty thought Doc Brown had mentioned this destiny business before - that was the whole reason Jennifer was snoozing in the car. ‘But am I rich?’

  Doc sighed. ‘Damn. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this. Maybe I should just forget this whole thing and take you back home.'

  Home? No way did he want to go home! Marty decided he’d better apologise.

  ‘Hey. I’m sorry. Doc. I'm just excited, that’s all. Everybody wants to know about their future.’

  That’s what I’m afraid of.’ Doc sighed again. He held the gym-bag-of-the-future out to Marty.

  After looking at the bag for a second, Marty pulled open the velcro seal.

  ‘All right,' Doc instructed, ‘take off your shirt, put on the jacket, the shoes, and the cap.’

  Marty set the bag down on the rear end of the DeLorean. As Marty started to unbutton his shirt. Doc leaned into the car beneath the open gull-wing door. A moment later, he lifted the still-sleeping Jennifer out of the passenger seat, placing her gently in a broad doorway on the alley's side.

  Marty paused in his unbuttoning.

  ‘You mean we’re just gonna leave her?’

  ‘It’s too risky to take her with me.’ Doc answered regretfully. ‘Don’t worry. She’ll be safe. She’s out of sight, and it’ll just be for a few minutes.’

  Doc reached in his pocket and pulled out a plastic card with a pair of eyeholes, and the words POCKET BINOCULARS printed beneath. It looked like some cheap plastic toy, the kind of thing you find as a prize in a serial box. The way Doc handled it, though Marty suspected it was really a more compact, fully functional future model.

  Doc ran to the far end of the alley and peered through his card.

  Marty pulled off his white, striped shirt, leaving only the purple t-shirt he wore underneath. He pulled the jacket from the bag, but, as he pulled it on, was somewhat distressed to realise it was four sizes too big and baggy, with sleeves that hung down to his knees. How could Doc expect him to wear something like this?

  Marty shook the sleeves. Was there some way to roll them up or something? His fingers brushed against a small patch near the right cuff - a patch that read UNI-SIZE FORM FIT.

  The jacket instantly shrank to fit, sleeves stopping precisely at the wrist as the coat's sides tailored themselves to his rib-cage. After a moment’s shock, Marty decided that this was more like it!

  So what else did he have to put on? Marty pulled out a pair of future sneakers from the bottom of the bag.

  Doc apparently had seen what he was looking for. He tucked his binocular card in his pocket, he hurried b
ack to the car.

  Marty had slipped the shoes on his feet, but they were still loose, a lot like the jacket a moment ago, and he could see no way to tie them. Except there was a pad - like the one on his jacket - on the right sneaker. After a moment's hesitation, he pressed it softly.

  The sneakers zip-laced themselves shut.

  ‘Power laces!' Marty cheered. 'All right!’

  Marty pulled the cap from the bag. and stuffed his everyday shirt and shoes in its place. The hat looked more or less like a baseball cap, except for whatever shining fabric it was made of - a fabric that seemed to change colour every time the cap moved.

  Doc stood by the car. He appeared to be waiting for Marty.

  ‘OK, Doc,’ Marty asked obligingly as he stuck the cap on his head. ‘So what’s the deal?’

  Doc glanced at his watch, then pointed down to the far end of the alley. ‘In exactly two minutes, you go around the corner, into the Café 80's.’

  ‘Café 80’s?’

  ‘It's one of those nostalgia places,' Doc explained, ‘but not done very well. Go in and order a Pepsi.’ Doc rummaged in his pocket, then pulled out a crumpled bill. ‘Here’s a fifty.’

  Marty accepted the paper money. It looked more or less like the money Marty was used to - although Marty was a lot more used to handling tens and twenties than fifties. Doc was being awfully generous here. A fifty dollar bill for a Pepsi? Oh, well. He probably wanted to make sure Marty had some money left over in case of emergencies. Marty stuffed the fifty into the pocket of his jacket.

  ‘Then wait for a guy named Griff,’ Doc continued.

  ‘Griff,’ Marty repeated.

  ‘Right.’ Doc nodded, pleased that Marty was taking this all in. ‘Griff’s going to ask you about tonight - are you in or out? Tell him you’re out.’ Doc raised his voice, as if this part was even more important than what he had said already. ‘Whatever he says, whatever happens, say no, you’re not interested.’

  Doc waved at the alley-way. ‘Then leave, come back here, and wait for me.’ Doc’s voice started to rise again. Don’t talk to anybody, don’t touch anything, don’t do anything, don’t interact with anyone. And try not to look at anything!’

  Doc was really serious about this not-messing-with-your-future business. Still, there were some things that Marty didn’t understand.

  ‘I don’t get it, Doc. I thought this had something to do with my kids.'

  ‘Precisely.’ Doc rummaged in the gym bag. ‘In those clothes, you’re the spitting image of your future son, I know, I just checked on him with my binoculars -’

  He paused, staring at Marty quizzically. ‘Hmmmmm,’ he murmured, then grinned with a snap of his fingers. ‘Pull out your pants pockets.'

  Marty did as Doc asked.

  ‘Perfect!’ Doc declared.

  Marty’s eyes rose doubtfully toward the cap above his forehead. ‘I still don't get it, Doc.'

  ‘Well...' Doc replied hesitantly, ‘I guess there’s no point in keeping it a secret.'

  He reached into another one of his pockets and pulled out a newspaper. It was a USA Today: ‘Hill Valley Edition’!

  LOCAL YOUTH JAILED IN ATTEMPTED THEFT! the main headline screamed, and below that, in smaller letters, ‘Youth Gang Denies Complicity’.

  But Marty’s eyes were drawn to the colour picture immediately beneath, a photo of a kid who looked exactly like Marty!

  Chapter Three

  Marty realised he was staring. He pulled his gaze away from the photo to look back at Doc.

  ‘My son? He looks just like me!’ He looked back down at the paper, and tried to read the story, but that only made it worse. What could he do if his son was in jail? ‘This is terrible! But, Doc, if this is already in the newspaper -’

  Doc pointed at the date in the corner: ‘October 22 2015.’

  ‘This is tomorrow’s newspaper,’ he explained. ‘That’s why we’re here today - to prevent this event from ever happening!'

  Marty looked up from the paper again. Now he understood why Doc needed him!

  He whistled softly. ‘Whoa, Doc, this is heavy.’

  ‘I know,’ Doc agreed grimly. ‘And it gets worse. As a result of this, your daughter goes into a state of severe depression and commits -’

  ‘My daughter?’ Marty asked. This was getting to be beyond heavy! ‘I have a daughter? What does she do?’

  Doc's watch beeped loudly.

  ‘Damn!’ Doc snapped his head down to look at the dial. ‘I’m late!’

  He grabbed the newspaper and ran down the alley.

  ‘Doc, wait!’ Marty yelled, trying to keep that touch of panic he was starting to feel from growing any larger. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘To intercept the real Marty Junior,’ Doc called over his shoulder. ‘You're taking his place!’

  He disappeared around the corner.

  ‘Marty Junior?’ Marty mused aloud. ‘I name him Marty Junior? With a name like that, how could he go wrong?’ Hey! There was no reason to panic - the kid had Marty McFly’s genes, after all, right?

  ‘Well,’ Marty added to console himself. ‘At least he’s not a wimp.’

  But his son was about to make a really bad decision, and it was up to Marty to take his place and save him! The original Marty took a deep breath and walked out of the alley.

  2015 or not, he knew exactly where he was.

  Directly in front of him was Courthouse Square'. It had changed some in thirty years, but it was still easy enough to recognise. After all, he had skateboarded around these streets a thousand times or more in 1985, and even managed to do the same once or twice during the week he had spent in the 1950s. He wondered for a second if kids still skateboarded in 2015.

  The village green had been mostly replaced by a large duck pond and a fountain, although the square was still bordered by those same hedges. The courthouse building was still there, too. but it looked like it had been turned into some sort of mall, with a fancy, smoked green glass entryway that led to dozens of underground shops. The names of the stores below flashed on a 3-D electronic display, places with names like World O’ Transponders and Hydrators unlimited.

  There were still stores on the other three sides of the square, too, although most of the names had changed since 1985. The adult bookstore had been replaced by a shop called Bottoms Up, ‘Specialising in Plastic Surgery since 1998!’, with signs in the windows advertising face lifts and a today-only special on breast-implants.

  And the movie theater had changed too. It was called the HOLOMAX now, and the marquee announced they now featured

  FULL HOLOGRAPHIC SCREENS!

  - Now Playing -

  JAWS 14

  DIRECTED BY MAX SPIELBERG

  - This time, it’s really, really personal! -

  DELIGHTFULLY AIR CONDITIONED!

  There was still a gas station on the corner, too, only now it was on the second storey, above a Seven-Eleven! A car landed on the upper deck, and a dozen robot arms appeared, pumping gas, checking the tyres, washing the windows. Further up the street, there was a tavern called the Fusion Bar and a Century 22 real estate office. On the other side of the square, Marty could see a robotics shop (‘Sales, Service, Rentals!’). And a Video Software store, with a sign in the window advertising ‘The Video Classic: A Match Made In Space!’ Wow, Marty thought. They’d made a movie out of his dad’s book, too?

  Most of the traffic seemed to have relocated itself overhead. Cars, some of which looked old enough to come from 1985, or even before, briskly flew back and forth across the air lanes. Marty could have sworn one of those fliers was an Edsel. There was a flashing sign overhead, advising drivers of current ‘Skyway Conditions’. And there were billboards both up there and down close to the ground, too, pointing out the advantages of ‘US Air to Vietnam’ - complete with a smiling couple with surfboards - or ‘Earl Shieb IV will hoverconvert any car! ]ust $3999!’ or even ‘Pepsi-Perfect - it’s vitamin enriched!’

  Actually, there was only one thing
in all of Courthouse Square that hadn’t changed at all - except maybe to look a little older. The courthouse clock was still there at the top of the converted courthouse building, and still stopped at 10:04, the time lightning struck it back in 1955, letting Marty get back where he belonged, to 1985, at least for a few hours.

  Marty stepped out onto the street. Well, maybe there were a couple of other things that hadn’t changed so much. Those folks dancing up there looked like Hare Krishnas. And the sign on the store directly behind the dancing guys in the saffron robes read E-Z CREDIT FINANCE COMPANY. And one whole corner of the street had been completely torn up by the electric company.

  But where was the Café 80's?

  There was an antique store on this side of the street, a place called BLAST FROM THE PAST. The front window of the place was full of things Marty remembered from 1985 or before, all carefully labelled, stuff like a Betamax VCR, a Super-8 movie projector, a lava lamp, a Macintosh computer, and a whole bunch of Perrier bottles. In fact, the only thing Marty didn’t recognise in the window was a small, silver book with the bold, red title:Grey’s Sports Almanac 1950-2000.

  Marty looked up the street. He still had an important job to do. Just beyond the antique store, on the corner where the aerobics place used to stand back in 1985, was the Café80’s.

  Marty walked quickly to the Café. The door slid aside to let him enter. Doc Brown had called this ‘one of those nostalgia places’. The walls were painted in pastel pinks and greens straight out of that new cop show - Miami Vice. But a lot of stuff here either Marty didn't recognise at all, or it somehow looked wrong.

  He supposed some of it could have come from after 1985. That was weirder still, when be thought about it. He was in a nostalgia place for stuff that hadn’t even happened yeti Like what were all these weird yellow squares pinned to one wall, squares that said stuff like ‘Baby on Board’ and ‘Dead Wife in Trunk’? Why would anybody want to use that sort of thing?