On the outskirts of Todayland sat an old and desolate brick building. What once was a full and busy orphanage now was an abandoned reflection of yesteryear. The facade was now cracked and left to the elements, abandoned to someday be demolished by someone who was willing to pay for it. But since no one had any ideas on what to replace it with, the building was left to creak and settle by itself.

Compared to the bright and bubbly new buildings in the surrounding area, the 6th Street Orphanage definitely stuck out like a sore thumb. How it had managed to survive as long as it had was anyone's guess. Just one look at it and one was sure to instantly become a tad bit sadder. The drooped windows and crumbling walls alone could send a pang of extra weight to one's heart.

But perhaps the saddest thing of all about the orphanage was not its rusted hinges or the rotting wood planks nailed across the front doors. Nor was it the many empty beds that littered the bedrooms inside. The saddest thing was the man that still lived there, hidden from the outside world.

Nestled high in the building, within the room he had called home since childhood, Michael Yagoobian laid in the very same bunk bed he had slept in all his life. He was tall, thin as a rake, and completely covered in black attire. From the cape around his neck to his heeled boots to even his long dark brown mustache, "Goob", as they called him, was certainly a character. But while his visage could certainly cause a bit of a laughter, his current mental state of mind was not something to be laughed at.

Depression was not a deep enough word to describe what Michael was feeling. His entire body felt like it was sinking into the bed beneath him. He felt exhausted and yet wide awake at exactly the same time. Moving was difficult, as though every bone desired nothing more than to remain in the same place until all eternity. Hunger was not something that he felt and as such he had gone without eating for nearly the entire week and a half that he had been lying there. What was bothering him? In one word: Loneliness.

Goob had been alone nearly all of his life. From never having been adopted to living out his days in an abandoned orphanage, he never had anyone significant in his life for very long. It was true that Cornelius Robinson once slept in the very bed above him, but that had been so very long ago. Thirty years ago, to be exact. And after having been alone for so long, one would think that living by himself wouldn't bother Michael, but due to recent circumstances, that thought process was heavily misunderstood.

It was merely a week and a half ago that Goob's life had changed dramatically. Originally, his life had been filled with anger and hatred, driven to the thought of revenge against Cornelius over a small mishap that had been blown far out of proportion. But all of that changed when a young boy proved to him that life did not have to be filled with regret and frustration. All one had to do was to keep moving forward and to let go of the past. It was a beautiful motto and certainly one to be remembered but there was only one problem. How was Michael suppose to move forward? He had spent the last thirty years of his life brooding over one subject and nothing else. He had no family, no friends, and his childhood dream of becoming a baseball star was long behind him. What more was there to live for? And if this all wasn't enough to send him reeling into despair, there was still yet one more problem on top of it all.

Doris.

Doris was a bowler hat. A robotic one that had the ability to communicate and understand just as well as any human would be able to. She was the ultimate reason for Goob's dramatic life change and further more, the number one reason for his depression.

She had appeared to him as though out of a dream, promising to aide him in his quest for revenge against Cornelius. To Goob, Doris was the only friend he had ever had and as such, the dearest. She had helped him in what he believed at the time to be the right path in life to take. And that was what any good friend was meant to do.
Unfortunately for Michael, Doris was not the friend that he had so strongly believed her to be. She betrayed him, tricking him into assisting her desire to take over the world. Had she succeeded, he would certainly not be alive today.

But was he thankful for that, really? To be alive and unhappy, living out the rest of his days alone in a dirty building? Staring blankly at the iron poles that made up the top bunk above him, tears began to form in the corners of his eyes. Although his goals had been entirely misguided, life without Doris seemed meaningless. He had, for the first time ever, been happy when she had been there. And even now he wished there was a way to bring her back, despite what her true intentions were. Sure, he had been alone before. He knew how to handle that. But after having a taste of what it was like to be so close to someone, even if they didn't return the same feelings, the loneliness was too much to bear.

Thus, Goob laid upon his bed refusing to move. The tears that formed never fell, as they hadn't for the entire week and a half that he'd been lying there, but they made his vision blurry. Blinking, he turned his head slowly to look out the window. It was a beautiful blue sky with bright white clouds. Todayland's tall buildings could be seen as well as large red letters on a billboard that read, "KEEP MOVING FORWARD". The message, while its intention was meant for inspiration, met Goob's heart with a painful stabbing. It mocked him with its bright and cheerful motivation. Insulting what was clearly not a bright future for him. Yet despite the anguish felt within his stomach, Michael couldn't tear his eyes away. They were glued to the letters, tracing each line that made up the individual shapes. Perhaps it was a way to pass the time. Or perhaps it was the only thing he could do to keep his mind from thinking too hard.

Anger slowly began to fill his heart. His lips curled into a sneer as the billboard caused the thought of Cornelius to enter his mind. That stupid inventor. Those words meant nothing to Goob. What did that inventor ever do for him other than talk of false promises? Keep moving forward was impossible. It was a dream only for those that still had a life worth living. And given his current living situation, Goob felt he definitely didn't have one of those. In fact, really, why did he exist at all? Shouldn't Lewis have gone back in time and fixed the past? Shouldn't that mean he shouldn't exist now in this alternative time? Did Lewis forget about him and not gone back to wake him up from the baseball game? What kind of so-called "friend" would leave him in the dust like that?

Unless of course Lewis did go back and fix the time stream which would be a terribly frightening thought. That would mean either his life would still end up in this fashion or else there were two Michael Yagoobians in existence. Wait, that wasn't possible, though, was it?

Goob raised his hands to his head and pressed his fingers against his temples. All this time travel stuff was awfully confusing. For a moment he forgot about his anger and instead was trapped in his confused state of mind.

Suddenly something interrupted the silence.

Knock, knock, knock.

Startled, Goob blinked and lowered his hands. Had he just heard..?

Knock, knock, knock.

No... it couldn't be... could it..? But this building was abandoned... who in their right mind would walk up to it and knock on the d-

"Goob!" shouted a horribly familiar voice.

Completely taken by surprise, Michael gasped and sat up fast, unexpectedly hitting his head against the bed above him. Dazed, he raised his hands to his head to comfort his now aching skull. Turning towards the window, he waited a moment to see if he would hear the voice again. Surely it was just his imagination...

"Goob, it's me! Lewis!"

Oh, no, he had heard a familiar voice! Raising himself very slowly from the bed, Michael slunk over to the window, being sure to keep out of sight. He pressed his back hard against the wall before daring to inch his head forward to peer down at the front steps. His eyes widened at what he saw. Cornelius Robinson stood on the top step, a box in his hands. The inventor was looking directly up at the window that Michael was looking out of.

"Goob! I knew you would be here!"

Gasping again and cursing at himself for having been seen, Michael immediately dropped to the floor and raised his knees up to his chin. Nervously putting his clenched hands to his mouth, Goob frantically looked around the room for means of escape. What was Cornelius doing here?!

"Wait! Don't go! Goob, I have something for you! Wont you let me in?"

Michael closed his eyes. It was a ridiculous attempt at making the inventor go away but he tried it never the less. Why did Lewis have to show up at his door? And now of all times? The last they had spoken was technically thirty years ago for the inventor. A week and a half for himself. And their last topic of conversation had been where Cornelius had invited Goob to live with he and his family at the Robinson household, despite all the harm that he had intended upon the young Lewis. Michael had panicked, running off without answering the invitation. To see his roommate now, even if it technically was thirty years later, would be incredibly awkward.

Silence fell. Goob dared not look out the window but after a minute passed he wondered if the inventor had finally given up. Just when he was about to sigh in relief, Cornelius spoke again. This time not a yell, but simply a calm and steady tone of voice.

"I'm not here to interrogate you about wanting to live with me. I just want to give you something and then I'll leave. But if you don't want to talk, that's okay. I'll leave the box by the doorstep."

Goob felt too paralyzed to speak. Playing with his fingers and staring hard at the desk opposite the room, Michael waited to hear Cornelius' footsteps. Sure enough, after a moment or two of waiting patiently, a soft thumping could be heard echoing away into the distance. He was gone. Goob stood up slowly and twisted around to peer out the window. A medium sized box approximately the size of a small tv was sitting on the doormat. He looked up to see if Cornelius was still in the process of walking away but he saw no one and thus decided it would be safe to walk downstairs.

Creeping gently to the front door, Michael pulled the doorknob back. A long and low creaking sound released into the front hallway but he paid no mind to it. Ducking underneath the boards that had been nailed into the door frame, Goob quickly looked around to see if anyone had seen him. Eyeing no one, he rushed forward to grab the box (which was lighter than he had expected) and dove back into the orphanage, slamming the door shut.

Kneeling down to the floor, he stared at the box before him. What could possibly be inside? What would Lewis have that he would want? Was it an invention, perhaps? His eyes squinted suspiciously at it as though it were filled with something that could potentially jump out and bite him. But that was a silly thought. Cornelius was innocent and he had learned the hard way that the inventor never meant him any harm. Reaching tentatively forward, Goob placed his fingers along the edge and slowly lifted the flaps.
Immediately his body jerked back at the sight. His heart raced as though he expected what was inside to jump out and attack but after a moment of calming himself, he slowly slumped and a sad expression fell upon his face. His eyebrows raised to a confusion of emotions. His stomach flipped at what was inside and yet a heavy weight seemed to slowly drop into his throat.

A plain black bowler hat sat atop his old pink unicorn binder. The hat was not his dear robotic friend for it did not have a camera lens but the shape of the hat itself seemed oddly similar to hers. The sight of it caused his heart to break. Slipping his hands gently into the box, he lifted the hat up to see it better, fingers curling against the edges. There were no metal legs nor any kind of machinery inside the hat. It was definitely not her. And yet...

"Doris..." he whispered aloud. It was too painfully similar not to say her name. Just as he spoke, something fell from the inside of the hat. Looking down, Goob noticed a folded piece of paper that had been stuffed within it. He set the bowler down upon his lap before picking up the paper and unfolding it.

"Dear Michael,

I assumed that you would not wish to speak with me and so I wrote this note to accompany the box that I have given you. It's been a long time since I've last seen you and there's much I wish I could tell you but I understand your wanting to be left alone. You can be rest assured that I will not attempt to bother you after this. You deserve to live in peace. However, I appeared with this box because I thought perhaps you might want your binder back. You use to carry it with you everywhere when we were kids and since you dropped it over a week ago I figured you'd want it back.

I have also left for you a hat. I found it in the attic of my house. It belonged to an old relative of my wife Franny and she had kept it in storage, unsure of what to do with it. I have sent it to you for two reasons. One, I'm assuming you live alone and this is the only way I can help ease the thought of you being by yourself. While it may not be able to beep or move, I thought perhaps you could use it as a soft reminder of times gone by so that the past did not haunt you as badly, since I'm guessing it does. And reason number two, I believe this to be the very hat that I would have used had I actually implemented the Helping Hat. Often times when inventing I try to use things around the home and I truly think that this bowler hat would have become DOR-15. Upon this realization, I thought it only necessary that you were the one to have it. Franny was understanding and allowed my giving it to you.

I can only hope that these items offer some kind of closing for the adventure we had. And if this is the last time that I have a chance to say something to you, then I wish you all the best in your future. I do hope you re-consider my offer of staying with us, but I understand if you don't.
Keep moving forward, Lewis"

Goob let the note slip from his fingers and drift to the floor. Staring at the hat in his lap like a deer in the headlights, slowly his shoulders began to shake. And then his hands. And then his arms. And soon his lip began to tremble. At first he pushed the hat away from him, too caught up in his emotions to want to have anything to do with it. But after a moment of simply staring at it, all the rage and anger he had been feeling for thirty years seemed to swell up in his throat all at once. He quickly grabbed the hat back. Sucking in an air full of breath, Michael gripped the hat tightly towards his chest and hugged it, finally releasing the tears he had held back for so long.
He continued to weep for hours.