Disclaimer: I don't own BTTF. Still. After five years. You'd think I would have made progress by now, but nope. I still don't own any of it.
Author's Note: Revision as of August 9th 2012 (Central European Time) on 12:06 AM made of a story posted on November 27th 2007 at an unknown time. You're probably wondering why I'm getting back at this story after all that time, but this story is bad. I mean, 'everyone had leaved'? 'the year had coming'? That sort of stuff, added to the fact that the story didn't have too much of a premise and had other general errors, made me about ready to cut the story altogether. Nevertheless, I knew I had 3 reviews for this story which were favorable, and they all thought it was cute. So, I didn't want to just abandon it. So, I revised. It's about 300 words longer now, so about 1,5 times as big, and I think it's better. Now, to revise Future Travellers (or any other 'old' story) will be another matter altogether...
A red letter year
December 31, 1984
10:00 PM
Hill Valley, California
Doc Brown smiled to himself while sitting on his chair. Today was a very special day. Tonight, at exactly 12:00 AM, their time zone would turn to the year 1985.
Doc knew that 1985 was going to be a year he would never forget. Thirty… or, better, twenty-nine years ago Doc had met a seventeen-year-old young man who claimed to be from the future – from that very year, 1985. Doc didn't believe him first, certainly not when the teenager claimed that Ronald Reagan was the US president in nineteen-eighty-five – an actor as president? – but after the youth showed him his own invention from that morning, the flux capacitor, completely finished, he'd been all but forced to believe him.
Doc helped the kid, whose name was Marty McFly, to go back to the future, after he made sure his parents fell in love with each other. At exactly 10.04 pm, on November 12, 1955, lightning struck the Hill Valley clock tower sending the required electricity down to the "flux capacitor" so Marty was sent home.
The Destination Time had read October 26th 1985, the day Marty had departed and would arrive again, and next year that great day would come. It would be the day of his demonstration of time travel, the first temporal experiment, and the day Marty would return from 1955 to meet him at Lone Pine Mall.
Doc had been watching his friend's family, making sure everything was going like it had to go. And it did go in that direction, flowing naturally, as if some sort of self-preservation effect was at work within the space-time continuum that ensured the new history would be similar to the old. First the sixties had come along, in which George and Lorraine, Marty's parents, got married and had their children; first Dave, then Linda, and finally Marty. Then the seventies arrived, in which George had received his first successes as an author, and Doc had met his future friend for the very first (or second) time – now nine years ago. Doc smiled, as he always did when he thought about that day – October 26th 1975.
Seven-year-old Marty had been dared by Douglas Needles into a skateboard race, and had lost control of the board, flinging towards the sidewalk and right into Doc. The kid had been grateful for his unknowing intervention, and it had developed naturally that he'd gone home to Marty's parents' house, and from there a friendship of some sort developed gradually. And now, they had been friends for nine years, two months and five days. The irony of it being on October 26th hadn't escaped the inventor, who found himself wondering if the event had occurred the same way in the original timeline. It probably had.
"Doc!" he heard a voice call from outside. Doc walked to the door and, opening it, he saw Marty, now 16, with his family; 18-aged Linda, with her familiar sweatshirt saying 'Class of 1984', and Dave, now 22, and their parents, Lorraine, 46, and George, 46 as well.
Doc chuckled, reminiscing on his own stupidity. He had told the McFly's they could celebrate Christmas with him, but he'd been busy the last few days, and in all the hectic he'd forgotten it. Of course, he hadn't even been sure whether they'd take him up on the offer.
"Come in" he said. "We've only got two hours to go now…"
oooooooo
After two hours spend chattering and eating traditional New Years Eve's dishes, silence had downed on the room. The clock read 11:59 and everyone was watching Doc's television, waiting anxiously for the new year. The television screen had been displaying a clock since 11:58. On it were a few squares who looked a bit like the time circuits – but not enough to make the resemblance uncanny – and they read DEC 31 1984. The time was shown on a clock which said 11:59:47.
"Ten!" they could hear Goldie Wilson, the mayor of Hill Valley, yell. "Nine….Eight…"
"I love you, honey" George told Lorraine.
"Seven… Six…"
"So do I" Lorraine answered, cuddling up to him.
"Five…Four…Three..."
"It's coming" Dave said.
"Two…One…happy new year! Welcome to 1985!"
On the last words the time changed to JAN 01 1985 and the clock to 12:00 AM.
Doc smiled to himself. He took his drink, got up, looked around and said: "To a happy 1985 for everyone."
"You too!" everyone answered. "You too!"
ooooooooo
After everyone had left (it was already 2:45 am by that time) Doc sighed to himself. He walked over to his laboratory. The DeLorean was there, carefully sheltered from any visitors (especially a curious Marty), waiting to be finished so that it could travel through time like the machine he'd seen in 1955 do.
Of course, if he wanted to travel with it, he'd have to survive his encounter with the Libyan terrorists first. Doc shivered, glancing over at the safe in which he'd hidden Marty's letter, written so long ago. He wished he could try to avoid the encounter with the Libyans that his other self had set up for him. Perhaps he could hire some phony Libyan actors. But that wouldn't be a solution – they'd see the time machine, and that still wouldn't provide a solution to the fuel problem. To his counterpart from the original reality, the Libyans had to have seemed the only option, and perhaps they were. He had gambled, and lost. Doc sighed grimly, but smiled faintly as he remembered he still had ten months to go. Enough to time to purchase and... modify... a bullet-proof vest. He would not lose.
Doc smiled, thinking of more upbeat things. This year he was going to finish the DeLorean. October 26th 1985, that red letter date that had haunted him since 1955, was closer than ever. The year had come, now all he'd have to do was wait for the day. And after that...
Doc had always dreamed to see the future. In about ten months, he could. Maybe he might then also have a chance to travel to his favourite era, the Old West – although on the other hand, that might be dangerous. Then again, he could take precautions. If you put your mind to it, you could accomplish anything after all. Doc smirked, looking at his inventions. Either way – future or past – he was sure he'd have the time of his life.
"Good night, time machine" Doc said, quietly closing the door to the lab. "A few months from now, you'll make history!"
THE END