Well here it is. The next part of 'Heavy stuff' Hope you enjoy.
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They reached the strict, white marble house of law where Judge Brown resided. It stood in the dingy corner on the main square at the centre of Hill Valley a few doors down from the burnt out husk of a building that had started all of this. The town square itself seemed not to care about the blotch on its landscape so long as it sat in the basking glory of the Courthouse. Emmett pushed the door open with his back, still firmly holding the fluttering manuscripts, and they were in. Marty had seen old films from the Thirties. Small rooms, with striped wallpaper and paint flecking off the walls of supposedly high reaching establishments. Smoke floating through the sepia air, misting up the room and adding a certain sense of derogatory pace and need to the gloomy day. And for once, the films had gotten it right. To Marty, it seemed crazy to walk through this old office building, following the younger Doc Brown. It seemed crazy to have to step through history or to even get the chance. To not leave a trace would be difficult, especially considering the job that lay at hand.
Emmett bustled speedily through the small corridors and up the rickety stairs of his dad's legal firm. Marty attempted to keep up with him, but the young Doc was far too well acquainted with the machine of law to care for anybody who was left behind. A trait ground into him by his father from an early age. To stick by the rules and follow them to the letter. In his father's eyes, imagination and progression took a back seat, whilst the law drove the country forward into a new era.
The pair finally reached the synonymous door. Large, wooden and omnipotent. A rectangular window of misted glass stood central in the door, with a thin material blind hanging down from the top. Staring down at the rest of the hallway, and the rest of the building, like some sort of personal, judicial version of George Orwell's 1984. 'Big Father was watching YOU!' The words 'Judge Brown' were skilfully crafted into a bronze plaque that stood proudly on the wooden door to his office. As they walked closer, Marty could feel a fear that he had never encountered before. Not even the first time that Strickland had given him a tardy slip. It was a fear that crept along every vein and into the heart. He liked to call it nerves. But what was he to be nervous about in walking to this door? He could not imagine the fear that young Emmett might be harbouring under that sweater vest and bow tie.
'I'd better head in alone.' Came Emmett's screechy changing voice. He bent down slightly so that Marty could arrange his half of the pile of papers on top of Emmett's. 'Won't be a second.' Using the same trick he had used on the first door, Emmett casually opened his father's office door with his back, gulped slightly, and proceeded to nervously skitter in. The door flapped sorrowfully against the hinges and Marty was left to stand in the corridor and wait for the right moment to set the ball rolling for Doc's escape. But what to say?
'Oh, by the way, I'm from your future and your older self is actually trapped in jail here in 1931 because he created a time machine out of a DeLorean, travelled back in time and now the cops think he blew up a speakeasy, and I need your help to get him out.'
No… that would never do. The truth despite its merits never did. Not really. Marty leaned against the peeling striped wallpaper of the drab 1930s version of an office block, and if he was honest, things hadn't changed a bit.
He heard shouting from Judge Brown's office. An enraged, deep voice could be heard shouting commands, orders and disappointments at someone in the small little room. If Marty had not known that it was Emmett in there receiving this abuse, anybody could've mistaken the conversation for one between a man and something that was beyond sub-human. After a little while of the dominance of the deeper voice, a small, weasely sound could be heard to reply. 'Yes, Pop. Sorry, Pop.'
A shadow walked up to the door. Marty could tell his head was bowed low. The door opened and Emmett stepped out. He looked cold. His skin a ghastly white and his eyes trying to hide the hurt that his dad had unleashed upon him.
'Come on. Let's go.' Emmett stuttered. His voice cracking slightly. He rearranged his green bow tie, straightened his blue pull over, and began to march along the corridors, destined to get out of the building as soon as possible. Marty kept close to him. Trying to avoid the looks that both he and Emmett were receiving from the rest of Judge Brown's staff.
They reached the outside world, and a weight seemed to lift from Emmett's shoulders. They walked to the grass-covered town square that stood at the centre of Hill Valley. In the middle of which, stood a small blue bandstand. Bunting still hung from its wooden supports presumably from a local festival. It still held a shadow of celebration, but for the two lonely figures walking towards it - it was a refuge. Emmett seemed to shuffle nervously over to it, as though it too was going to start shouting at him. Marty decided to keep quiet. He knew he could be a loud mouth when he wanted to be and would try to cheer any soul up. But he looked at the dishevelled figure of Emmett Brown, of young Doc, and wondered whether his soul was not beyond hope already. They reached the band stand on the glorious sunny day in Hill Valley. It was quiet, and most people would still be at work. The pair sat on the rim of the blue pavilion and let their legs hang over the edge. After a short silence where they both traced the perimeter of the town centre with their eyes, Marty decided to break the ice and bury the seeds of his plan.
'So, that's your old man, huh?' Emmett nodded solemnly.
'Yep. That's Pop.'
'Seems a little, er… Intense.' Marty was trying to choose his words carefully. He knew that Doc Brown was an unreliable man who, at the slightest notion, could flip out and go to sit in his back room for three days trying to work out if the Heisenberg Principal was true or not. He wondered if young Emmett was the same, and he couldn't risk that now.
'You could say that about Pop. Intense. Ha!' Emmett looked to his swinging feet. 'But he's a good man at the end of the day. Done nothing but good for this town. Nothing… but good.' Emmett stuttered.
'Seems too structured for my liking, y'know? Too much bureaucratic nonsense or whatever it's called. Not exactly an encouraging place to be.' After a short pause, Emmett, who had been turned his gaze to the flowers that bordered the small square of grass, turned his head to stare at Marty. Young Emmett's gaze pierced into Marty's soul, just as Doc's did on a regular basis. 'I know that if I had to work there, my dreams would be pretty smashed by now.'
'What are you trying to say?'
'I'm saying, Doc…I mean Emmett, that you're not destined to work for your Pop all your life. You're not built for a lawyer's job. You can't sit around in a dingy office, filing reports and getting yelled at for something you didn't even do. There's more out there than legal documents. So much more.'
'Like what? I can't leave Pop. He'd kill me. Where would I go? Nowhere.' Emmett's attention had been caught, but his inner sense of duty tried to keep him tied to his father's strangulating ship.
'What if I could give you that opportunity, eh? What if we could get you away from that and into something you're interested in. Like…oh…I don't know…science?' Marty's eyes twinkled at Emmett. He knew that would be the tag line. A word that could light the spark in Emmett's condemned, autocratic world.
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The seed has been planted. Same applies for this. Hope I'm getting the characters right. Thank you for reading. xxx
