Disclaimer: All characters and events related to Meet the Robinsons are owned by William Joyce and Walt Disney Animation Studios. All lyric rights to 21st Century Kid (from the album Catching Tales) belong to Jaime Cullum and EMI Music Publishing. Jamie Cullum appears courtesy of Universal Classics & Jazz.
Currently looking Cover Art commissions.
Chapter One: 21st Century Kid
Wilbur bolted straight up in bed, drenched in sweat. Panting heavily, he glanced around his bedroom, taking in his surroundings. Glancing at his alarm clock, he read the glowing red numbers: 12:00 AM, Mon. 3/30/37. Throwing back the covers, he quickly jumped out of bed and silently ran out of the room, down long halls, through the travel tubes, and to the garage.
Still panting heavily, he stared at the time machines that stood before him. He sat down, crossing his legs into a pretzel shape. Propping his left elbow against his knee, he rested his head in the palm of his hand. His mind was racing so fast, that his body could not keep up. Nearly dozing off in his sitting position, Wilbur heard a sleepy voice behind him.
"Wilbur? What are you doing awake?"
His eyes snapped open, and sat up straight in his seat on the concrete floor. He turned his head to see his father's sparkling blue eyes filled with worry.
"Dad. What are you doing down here?" the thirteen-year-old asked as his father took several, slow steps closer to him. Cornelius gave a small chuckle.
"That's what I'm asking you," he replied, kneeling down next to his son. Wilbur's eyes wandered around the concrete floor, resting his head in his hand once again.
"Just making sure I shut the garage door…" Cornelius put a hand on his son's forehead, then on the right side of his neck. "Wilbur, you have a fever," Cornelius stated, as he checked the boy's body temperature. Wilbur's eyes wandered around some more, brushing off his father's concern, unaware of his own well being.
"It's nothing, Dad," he said spaciously as he wiped away some sweat from his forehead with the back of his right hand.
"Wilbur, what has gotten you so worked up?" his father asked. Wilbur glanced up at his father's eyes, then quickly looked down at his hands.
"Does this," his father asked, lightly ruffling his son's jet black hair, "have something to do with more than just the garage door?" Wilbur nodded his head slowly. Cornelius fell silent for a few minutes, contemplating.
"Do you remember what I told you when I first started building the time machines?" Wilbur slowly nodded, then slowly shook his head. "Hmm… How can I put this simply? With such a complicated matter, I guess I can't." Cornelius cleared his throat slightly.
"Well, I told you that someday you would possibly experience seemingly unexplainable events that would occur in your dreams. By traveling in time, even the smallest occurrence can change, setting off an entirely different chain of events."
Wilbur tried to comprehend what his father was trying to say to him. Though many things were still unclear, he started to get a grasp on the concept. It was just like in his dream. What he dreamt of really did happened at one point, but because he altered the past, that generation was now non-existent and what was left of it was in his dreams.
Cornelius gently raised his son's chin with his hand and smiled sadly. "I should have told you sooner." Wilbur swallowed.
"About what? Told me what?" There was a long silence as Wilbur stared closely into his father's eyes. "Lewis?" he finally whispered. The man nodded his head, and the boy quickly pulled himself closer to his father, burying himself in a ferocious hug. Astounded at the boy's action, he tenderly hugged him back.
But… "It's not fair." Cornelius pulled away and ran his fingers through his son's hair.
"I know," he said. "It's not fair that I got to live that life you dreamt of and you didn't. And I'm sorry that my work keeps me away from you more often than not, but I would have never been so close to you now if I never met you that day, thirty years ago."
Wilbur smiled weakly as his father saw his eyelids start to droop. Cornelius put his hand against the boy's forehead again. "You need to rest. Your fever should be gone by morning, so let's go back to bed." Wilbur nodded his head, getting up and making his way across the room.
The man also stood up, but walked in the other direction, towards the garage's entrance. The door had been left ajar. Cornelius chuckled to himself, and shut the door tight. Kids will be kids, he thought, walking out of the garage.
Wilbur woke up several hours later to see the golden morning sun rays streaming through his bedroom window. He buried his face deep into his pillow- so soft, so warm, so inviting. He sighed sadly, knowing that the feeling would not last forever. Pushing himself off his mattress, he got out of bed and walked out of his room.
The thirteen-year-old could hear his mother's all-frog band in their morning session of daily practice as he walked past his mother's music room. Frankie, the lead vocalist, sang a sweet melody of a new song he wrote.
"There's maybe a way I could tell you"
The songs Frankie wrote slightly irritated Wilbur, knowing the stories behind each tune.
"'Cause with every day things continue"
The teenage boy knew that each original composition of Frankie's were about Frankie's life or the life of a Robinson.
"To get more compromised"
This particular one being played this morning was obviously about Wilbur Robinson.
"So who will fantasize"
He lifted his hand and touched his head, groaning. His fever was gone, but he did not feel much better.
"A new generation politicized"
Wilbur was not in the mood this morning to listen to a song about himself.
"Twenty-first century kid
Surrounded by illusion and confusion
So may be if you're holding out for the truth now
Could it be the greatest weapon?
Your weapon"
End of Chapter One
14 September 2007
