*Again with the disclaimers. . . as much as I wish I did, I don't own KP or
BTTF. I'd like to think I've made that clear by now.*
On with Chapter Three:
* * *
It took me a while before I was actually able to locate and flush him out. I roamed round and round 1988 Middleton for hours on end, having ripped the relevant page from the nearest phone book, still sweating with every major difference I saw along the way. I suppose the biggest plus point to being stuck there in the year 1988 was that I could now walk freely round the outside world without fear of any one recognising me from a wanted poster. Considering that the last time I'd experienced this exact year I'd just been a little kid entirely unaware of my destiny as a sidekick to a supervillain, things were as yet predating my turning to the dark side. As I thought about that, I began to wonder if things were currently any different for Dr Drakken, or 'Drew Lipsky' as he seemed to be known as in this day and age. Well, I was going to have to explain myself whether he liked it or not. After about five hours of desperate searching and always taking the wrong turn, I finally arrived at the street and house in which, according to the phone directory at least, my future partner in crime could be found.
It wasn't exactly the prettiest of houses I'd ever seen. In fact, it looked like a total dump, with windows boarded up, cracks in the decaying walls and paint stripped roughly from the door. At first glance, it was pretty hard to imagine that anyone in the right mind would be living there at all, but. . . I suppose this was the future Dr Drakken.
I knocked on the door. Within seconds it opened, and I was standing face to face with a young man who, in spite of the presence of specs, and lack of blue skin, scarred face and wild-eyed glare, there was no mistaking as the younger Dr Drakken. Looking him over, I noticed that he had a large purple bruise on his forehead, which had been plastered over rather clumsily.
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi. . . Dr Drakken?"
"Dr Drakken? No, the name's Drew Lipsky, and just what are you doing here? I haven't had any visitors for months. . . no, WAIT! Don't say a word, just come on in!"
"But. . ."
"Not a word, okay! Just come in and keep your mouth shut!" he said, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me rather forcibly in.
The interior of his housing wasn't that much more welcoming than the outside, somewhat devoid of all but the most rudimentary of furniture, and stripped of much of the wallpaper and carpeting. He hauled me into a room containing a large bulk of mind-boggling contraptions, where there sat a small orange cat with its scruffy head wired up to a strange device embroidered with switches and flashing lights.
"Good news, Oliver!" Drew Lipsky proclaimed. "I found another test subject to try this thing out on - a human this time!"
"Test subject?" I stammered, as he removed the wiring from the cat's head and allowed it to slink away down the corridor.
"Here, put this on your head!" he ordered, tossing them to me.
"What? Hey, no way!"
"Please, it's purely in the interests of scientific progress!" he insisted.
"You expect me just to attach these wires to my head? After they were hooked up to *that* cat?"
"What's the problem? Are you allergic to cat hair?"
"Well, no, but. . ."
"Then what's the trouble?" he asked, producing an even more elaborate mass of wire and metal and holding it down on his own head, wincing slightly as it contacted his bruise.
"LOOK! I'm not putting any of this on! I only came here because I. . ."
"Sshhh! I don't want to hear anything more about you! Just out that wiring on your head, and I. . . I will make scientific history by reading your thoughts!"
I wasn't in the mood for arguing with him. I was still majorly stressed just trying to figure out how exactly I was I going to explain myself to him. Oh hey there, Drew, I've just popped over from the year 2003 in a time machine invented by the megalomanic supervillain you're gonna turn out to be in the future, and guess what? I'm officially stranded here in the 1980s and need you to think of a way I can get back. Even in my head it sounded daft.
Sighing, I put the headgear on.
"Okay! Now, complete silence, if you please, while this device processes your innermost mind. . . hmmm, let's see, I'm getting something. . . you've. . . you've come here from a great distance!"
"Yes!" I exclaimed. "As a matter of fact. . . "
"No, don't tell me! Alright. . . you want me to buy a subscription to the Saturday Evening Post!"
"No. . ."
"Hmmm. . . alright, alright - I guess it takes time to really get going. . . okay. . . I'm onto something. . ."
I could see he was looking me over now, eyes fixed on my gloved hands and the very obvious outline of my clawed fingernails within.
"Your fingernails. . . they're so. . . barbed! Wait, that's it! You're scruffy, pale-looking and your nails are over-grown. . . you want me to make a donation to the deprived part of Middleton that can't even afford its own manicure!"
"No, no, no!" I growled, clawing the wiring from my head. "That's not it at all! Listen, Drew Lipksy, I'm from the future, okay? I came here in a time machine that *you* invented, and now I need *your* help to get back to the year 2003!"
He stared, bewildered. Then he just smiled, all of a sudden, half-gasping. "Great Scott! You're from the future. . . you know what this means, don't you?"
"No. What?"
"IT MEANS THIS STUPID THING DOESN'T WORK!!!!!" he roared, tearing off his own headgear in fury and giving it several good kicks. "For crying out, loud, what am I doing wrong? I'm certain I could read Oliver's mind perfectly. . . maybe it's only been wired to tune into the feline brain. . . I'll have to check this out!"
"Yeah, well, getting back to my problem here, Lipsky, I seriously need your help! You were the only one over in my time who knew how that time machine works!"
"Time machine? I haven't built a time machine in my life. . ."
"No, you haven't built a time machine at *this* stage of your life. The future you - he'll build a time machine and somehow or other I'll wind up going back fifteen years and end up back here with the current you!"
"You really expect me to believe that you're from the year 2003?" he asked, his face merging into a familiar glare, as he gathered together his headgear. "What do you take me for? The way I see it, one of two things is going on here, girl - either you're crazy, and you just busted your way out of the nearest asylum, or, quite simply, you're just another one of those futile jerks who finds the need to come and laugh at me just because I happen to be a genius and because they hate the notion of someone being smarter than they are! And let me tell you, if you happen to fall into the latter category, that, in spite of your cruel jokes, I *am* a genius, and one day THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL BE FORCED TO RECOGNISE IT!!!"
Oh yeah, this was the future Drakken alright.
"Okay, then Lipsky!" I said, feeling into my jacket pocket, and pulling out my credit card holder. "I'll prove it to you. Look at my ID! See the date of birth? If I was born in *that* year, I wouldn't be this old now then, would I? And look - check out this photo taken of me a couple of years ago in my time. The jacket I'm wearing clearly says 'Club Banana 2000'! They made that line to tie in with the new millennium - which is still twelve years away now! See?"
He snatched up the photo and studied it for a few moments, then stuffed it back into my hand. "Proves nothing! Cheap, mediocre fake photography. . . couldn't even transfer the entire jacket in the developing lab - half of one of the sleeves is missing!"
I didn't take the bait and pocketed it once more with out looking. "Come on, I'm being serious here! You'd better start believing me, Lipsky, or. . ."
"Alright then, future-girl, tell me this - who's President of the United States in the year 2003?"
"George Bush."
"Ha! You mean that hack who's trying to run next year? Like he'll ever make it into the White House in a billion years, let alone fifteen. . . the least you could have done is come up with a more convincing background story!"
"No, that's George Bush Snr! I mean George Bush Jnr! And besides. . ."
"Listen, I don't need this! I've got enough problems as it is without you ranting on at me! I think I've had my fill of practical jokes for today, wouldn't you, so, if you'll excuse me, I have work to be doing!" Clutching his headgear and a collection of tools, he made for the corridor without looking back, bustling out a back door and heading for the rustic garage in his pitiful back yard.
"Hey, come back! You can't just walk out on me like this! I need your help here!" I shrieked, spurting after him.
He slammed the shed door hard, bolting it for good measure.
"LISTEN TO ME!" I could have easily activated the rays in my gloves and torn the door down in a flash, but I couldn't risk alienating him further. He was tough enough as it was. "I'M NOT LYING!" I felt like banging my head against the door in frustration, when it came to me. "I REALLY AM FROM THE FUTURE! I know how you got that bruise on your head - you told me! You were hanging up your clock above your toilet, when you slipped and banged your head on the toilet seat, and then you suddenly got the idea for. . . oh, what's that stupid device?. . . the flux capacitor! That's it!"
A few silent seconds. Then, the door finally reopened, and he stepped out, looking much whiter than before.
-
"Okay! It's should be right over there! Pull over!" I ordered, as we neared the billboard sign I'd passed earlier.
Drew Lipsky did just so, steering his car to the side of the road, at which I leapt out and raced round to the other side of the notice, to find, much to my relief, the 626 still present and all in one piece.
Drew followed, as soon as he got the chance. "Is this it, Shego? Where's the flux capacitor?"
"Right there inside the vehicle. Along with everything else. This is it - the time machine that brought me here into the past."
"My present," he corrected, opening the car door. "Wow! I don't believe it - the flux capacitor, exactly as I envisioned it! Look!" He reached into his pocket and tore out a very tattered but nonetheless fully legible rough biro drawing on a piece of toilet paper. A sketch of the very same device. "It works! Can you believe it? I actually go on to invent something that works! This is incredible! I always knew I was a genius, but. . . this is just too brilliant!"
"Yeah, it sure is. Okay, Drew, now I've brought you here, what are we going to do now?"
"We'll have to find some way of sneaking this thing back to my house, I suppose."
"Right now? Shouldn't we wait until it gets dark? I don't think attracting anyone else's attention with this thing would be a very good idea."
"I don't think there's much chance of that. Everyone seems to have abandoned Middleton today and flocked down to Farmer Peabody's Christmas tree farm. I can't imagine why. . . must be a party on or something. Which I note that I WASN'T INVITED TO!"
"Okay, and then what?" I asked, flinching.
"We can hide it in my garage. Then, we'll have to figure out a way to get you back home!"
-
It took us a while to escort the broken-down 626 back through the streets of Middleton and into the concealment of Drew's rustic garage, but, as Drew had predicted, the place had virtually become a ghost town since breakfast. I had an uneasy feeling about that, deep down, but, for the time being at least, it was something we could take full advantage of.
"Whoa, this is the most stylish looking car I've ever seen," Drew commented, once we had it safely in his garage, with the door bolted. "And to think, it can really travel through time! An idle dream no longer. . ."
"Unless of course you can't figure out a way to get it fixed!" I asserted. "Right now, it's about as effective a time machine as my jump-suit!"
"Well, I'll give it my best shot, Shego. First, I'll have to figure out how it works. Which won't be easy, looking at the state of things. Do you have any idea how exactly this device functions yourself?"
My brains suddenly started to hurt. "Well, in the year 2003 you did explain it very vaguely to me. . . something about time circuits. That's it! You turn on the time circuits and those three LCD clocks should display where you are, where you're going, and where you've just been. Time-wise I mean."
"Okay, then what?"
"You enter the time you want next using the keypad there. Then you just rev up the vehicle and go. Which would be easy, only I can't even get it to rev up any more. It's gone completely dead!"
"Maybe it's just out of power," Drew suggested. "Hmmm, that would be a start. . . have you any idea how much power a thing like this needs to get going?"
"Hey, you told me this one too! Come on, I know I stored it away in here somewhere. . erm. . . I do know it, I just need to think . . come on. . . I got it! I remember! 1.21 gigawatts!"
He looked blank. Then he screamed. He screamed and smacked his forehead with his fist, screamed and grabbed himself by a sleeve, squeezing tight, screamed and bolted out clean out of the garage, still screaming all the while.
"Hey, come back here!" I called after him as he darted back into his house.
"1.21 GIGAWATTS????? YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! OH, HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO CARELESS? HOW? HAVE I GONE COMPLETELY INSANE IN THE YEAR 2003 OR SOMETHING?"
"What's the problem?" I asked, skidding inside.
He was burying his face in a cushion, collapsing back on his battered couch. "1.21 gigawatts. . . oh man, what have I done? What have I done to this world?"
"WHAT?" I was starting to get pretty freaked out myself at this stage. "What *have* you done?"
"I don't know!" he sobbed. "All I know. . . is that it's just not possible to make that kind of power. It can't be done. I'm sorry, Shego, but you're stuck here."
"Tell me this is all just part of *your own* practical joke!" I growled.
"Hey, the year 1988 isn't so bad. You'd only have to wait another fifteen years before you got back to 2003. Then you could just pick up your life as you left off."
"Fifteen years? I can't wait that long! I'd be like 40 when the year 2003 finally roles around again, and you really expect me just to pick up my life as I left it off?"
"Hey, it could be a hell of a lot worse!" he countered. "You could have gone back fif-*ty* years! Then what would you have done?"
"Besides everything else I have a life back in the year 2003! I'm used to the ways of the early 21st century. I just couldn't get used to the late eighties, they're too. . . vibrant!"
"Well, what do expect me to do? I can't make that kind of power. . ."
"Come on, all it takes is a little plutonium."
"PLUTONIUM? Listen, future-girl, I'm sure that in the year 2003 plutonium is available in every corner drug store, but this is 1988, and I gotta tell you - it's pretty scarce right now! No, the only other thing in existence capable of generating 1.21 gigawatts would be a bolt of lightning, but, have you ever tried to capture a lightning bolt? That's the problem with lightning, you never know when and where it's gonna strike."
Heart beating fast, I dived my hand deep into my pocket once more.
"We do now!" I said, showing him the flier I'd picked up earlier.
Hesitating, he took it and began reading. Finally, the smile returned to his face. "Fifteen years ago, on 16th July, at precisely 10:04pm, the Middleton centre clock was struck by a bolt of lightning!" he proclaimed, scanning the words off the flier. "This is perfect, Shego! If we can harness that lightning bolt, in exactly one week's time we may just be able to return you to the year 2003. NEXT SATURDAY NIGHT WE'RE SENDING YOU BACK TO THE FUTURE!"
"Yay! That's cool! I can spend a week here in 1988, no trouble!"
"Oh yes. . ." he purred, rubbing his hands together. "I can't wait to get you down to my old college and present you to those three so-called 'friends' of mine - that would sure wipe the smiles off their faces, after they all laughed at me, when they see that I'm destined to create the world's first working time machine. . . oh, heck no! What was I thinking? You can't just go outside and live it up when you've travelled backwards in time! Anything you do can have an adverse effect on the time continuum. You can end up completely destroying the future as you knew it! In just hope you haven't been interacting with anyone else today, Shego!"
I jolted, and cast my mind back. "Well. . . inevitably. . . with a few people, maybe."
"Just a few?"
"Nothing really. I just terrified a farmer, ordered a cola, informed one fast food joint employee of his future, taunted a future geneticist and. . . saved Loraine McFly, future creator of Club Banana, from being run over. . . by her future husband, George McFly. . ."
Suddenly, I didn't like the way that last one sounded. Neither did Drew Lipksy.
"I assume she isn't known as 'McFly' right now?" he asked.
"I guess not, if they've yet to meet and get married. I don't know what her surname currently is. . ."
"And they haven't yet met?"
I thought back. "No, from what she was telling DNAmy in that diner, she hasn't yet had the guts to approach him. From what I saw, she's a serious wimp, that Loraine. . . no wonder she needed the help of the top business student to get Club Banana launched!"
"And, tell me, by any chance was that business student this same George McFly?" He was actually starting to look pretty worried.
"Yes. . ."
"Oh, that can't be good."
"What? They'll have other chances to meet, won't they?"
"Well, not having been there myself, and not having the benefit of hindsight on the years to come, unlike you, it's difficult to judge, but from what I can piece together. . . you just stopped them from ever meeting! For good! If you hadn't been there, Shego, then I imagine that this Lorraine *would* have been run down. . . and it was how she and this George McFly would have met. Complete dumb luck. Otherwise, this Lorraine was too cowardly to have approached him on her own. . . Club Banana? That sounds familiar. . . didn't you mention it earlier? Of course, show me that photograph again!"
I could feel my hand trembling as I removed it from my pocket and handed it over.
"Of course, this validates my theory!" he exclaimed, studying it. "The time continuum has been disrupted. . . the last time I saw this photo, half of one of your Club Banana 2000 jacket sleeves appeared to have been cut off. Now. . .just look for yourself."
I could feel my innards shaking as I made my way over and finally summoned the courage to take a glance. I gasped. "Hey, what the heck happened? An entire sleeve's just disappeared! It wasn't like that when I first had it taken - both sleeves were fully intact!" I paused. "It's like. . . like it's just been erased. . ."
"Bingo!" replied Drew. "You have any idea what you've just done? YOU JUST WIPED THIS CLUB BANANA LOGO CLEAN FROM EXISTENCE!"
"No way! See this jacket I'm wearing right now? It's Club Banana too. See, check out this logo on the inside of the collar! If all Club Banana items were being erased from the time continuum, surely this one would be disappearing too?"
"When did you buy that particular jacket?"
"It's the very latest."
"So, 2003?"
"Uh-huh."
"Things would obviously disappear in the order that they were made. This 2000 jacket would be the first to go. . . in time that one you're wearing, from 2003, would gradually begin to disappear too. . . there you have it. Things always seem to have a natural way of working out in life - unless of course, man, or, in this case, woman, finds the need to interfere! You know what this means, don't you? It means that the future you're about to return to has been completely disrupted! You could get back and find it twisted beyond recognition!"
"Because of the absence of one designer logo?" I asked.
"Hey, it's impossible to estimate just how much balance that logo gave to the society you knew. You'd be amazed at the damage that one small mistake could do - just imagine it, these two kids never met, Club Banana was never created, result - kids of the future are deprived of the designer clothing they crave and lust for, without this need satisfied, they become bored and irritated, and start to become more aware of each other's inner flaws. A whole new generation grows up, no doubt, confused, frustrated and paranoid, unable to trust another individual who comes within ten feet from them, even worse still, exploited by corporations who want to cash in on their misery by feeding them again and again the idea that their neighbour is their deadliest enemy, by means of selling products for offence and protection. In the end, this world-wide lack of trust gets really bitter. Someone turns on another someone. It all starts out small, but believe me, it gets bigger and bigger with every second that passes, until all-out war is declared - everybody against everybody, and I'm not pulling any punches! You could get back to 2003 to find that civilisation has completely fallen, and you're one of the very few left! Of course, that's just an extreme example, but I'm sure you get my drift."
Once more, I found that I could barely stand up straight. The world was beginning to blur all over again. It had never occurred to me just how important these designer logos could be. Why hadn't I thought of that before? It wasn't just about looking good and staying ahead of everyone else. It was about civilisation. "Oh, geez, this is so. . . heavy!"
"Weight has nothing to do with it, Shego!" Drew asserted. "You only have one option here. If you want to return to a future world worth living in, you're going to have to sort this one out yourself. Somehow, you've got to fix it so that wimp Loraine still goes on to initiate this Club Banana logo! And you have until the 16th of June to put everything right, without disrupting the time continuum further. . . you just broke the time barrier, Shego, and now you've only got one week to get it fixed!"
* * *
*Thanks for reading. I appreciate your interest. Chapter Four will be on the way shortly, though I have a busy week ahead, so don't expect it to come quite as quickly as I brought you Chapter Three after adding Chapter Two. Later.*
On with Chapter Three:
* * *
It took me a while before I was actually able to locate and flush him out. I roamed round and round 1988 Middleton for hours on end, having ripped the relevant page from the nearest phone book, still sweating with every major difference I saw along the way. I suppose the biggest plus point to being stuck there in the year 1988 was that I could now walk freely round the outside world without fear of any one recognising me from a wanted poster. Considering that the last time I'd experienced this exact year I'd just been a little kid entirely unaware of my destiny as a sidekick to a supervillain, things were as yet predating my turning to the dark side. As I thought about that, I began to wonder if things were currently any different for Dr Drakken, or 'Drew Lipsky' as he seemed to be known as in this day and age. Well, I was going to have to explain myself whether he liked it or not. After about five hours of desperate searching and always taking the wrong turn, I finally arrived at the street and house in which, according to the phone directory at least, my future partner in crime could be found.
It wasn't exactly the prettiest of houses I'd ever seen. In fact, it looked like a total dump, with windows boarded up, cracks in the decaying walls and paint stripped roughly from the door. At first glance, it was pretty hard to imagine that anyone in the right mind would be living there at all, but. . . I suppose this was the future Dr Drakken.
I knocked on the door. Within seconds it opened, and I was standing face to face with a young man who, in spite of the presence of specs, and lack of blue skin, scarred face and wild-eyed glare, there was no mistaking as the younger Dr Drakken. Looking him over, I noticed that he had a large purple bruise on his forehead, which had been plastered over rather clumsily.
I breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi. . . Dr Drakken?"
"Dr Drakken? No, the name's Drew Lipsky, and just what are you doing here? I haven't had any visitors for months. . . no, WAIT! Don't say a word, just come on in!"
"But. . ."
"Not a word, okay! Just come in and keep your mouth shut!" he said, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me rather forcibly in.
The interior of his housing wasn't that much more welcoming than the outside, somewhat devoid of all but the most rudimentary of furniture, and stripped of much of the wallpaper and carpeting. He hauled me into a room containing a large bulk of mind-boggling contraptions, where there sat a small orange cat with its scruffy head wired up to a strange device embroidered with switches and flashing lights.
"Good news, Oliver!" Drew Lipsky proclaimed. "I found another test subject to try this thing out on - a human this time!"
"Test subject?" I stammered, as he removed the wiring from the cat's head and allowed it to slink away down the corridor.
"Here, put this on your head!" he ordered, tossing them to me.
"What? Hey, no way!"
"Please, it's purely in the interests of scientific progress!" he insisted.
"You expect me just to attach these wires to my head? After they were hooked up to *that* cat?"
"What's the problem? Are you allergic to cat hair?"
"Well, no, but. . ."
"Then what's the trouble?" he asked, producing an even more elaborate mass of wire and metal and holding it down on his own head, wincing slightly as it contacted his bruise.
"LOOK! I'm not putting any of this on! I only came here because I. . ."
"Sshhh! I don't want to hear anything more about you! Just out that wiring on your head, and I. . . I will make scientific history by reading your thoughts!"
I wasn't in the mood for arguing with him. I was still majorly stressed just trying to figure out how exactly I was I going to explain myself to him. Oh hey there, Drew, I've just popped over from the year 2003 in a time machine invented by the megalomanic supervillain you're gonna turn out to be in the future, and guess what? I'm officially stranded here in the 1980s and need you to think of a way I can get back. Even in my head it sounded daft.
Sighing, I put the headgear on.
"Okay! Now, complete silence, if you please, while this device processes your innermost mind. . . hmmm, let's see, I'm getting something. . . you've. . . you've come here from a great distance!"
"Yes!" I exclaimed. "As a matter of fact. . . "
"No, don't tell me! Alright. . . you want me to buy a subscription to the Saturday Evening Post!"
"No. . ."
"Hmmm. . . alright, alright - I guess it takes time to really get going. . . okay. . . I'm onto something. . ."
I could see he was looking me over now, eyes fixed on my gloved hands and the very obvious outline of my clawed fingernails within.
"Your fingernails. . . they're so. . . barbed! Wait, that's it! You're scruffy, pale-looking and your nails are over-grown. . . you want me to make a donation to the deprived part of Middleton that can't even afford its own manicure!"
"No, no, no!" I growled, clawing the wiring from my head. "That's not it at all! Listen, Drew Lipksy, I'm from the future, okay? I came here in a time machine that *you* invented, and now I need *your* help to get back to the year 2003!"
He stared, bewildered. Then he just smiled, all of a sudden, half-gasping. "Great Scott! You're from the future. . . you know what this means, don't you?"
"No. What?"
"IT MEANS THIS STUPID THING DOESN'T WORK!!!!!" he roared, tearing off his own headgear in fury and giving it several good kicks. "For crying out, loud, what am I doing wrong? I'm certain I could read Oliver's mind perfectly. . . maybe it's only been wired to tune into the feline brain. . . I'll have to check this out!"
"Yeah, well, getting back to my problem here, Lipsky, I seriously need your help! You were the only one over in my time who knew how that time machine works!"
"Time machine? I haven't built a time machine in my life. . ."
"No, you haven't built a time machine at *this* stage of your life. The future you - he'll build a time machine and somehow or other I'll wind up going back fifteen years and end up back here with the current you!"
"You really expect me to believe that you're from the year 2003?" he asked, his face merging into a familiar glare, as he gathered together his headgear. "What do you take me for? The way I see it, one of two things is going on here, girl - either you're crazy, and you just busted your way out of the nearest asylum, or, quite simply, you're just another one of those futile jerks who finds the need to come and laugh at me just because I happen to be a genius and because they hate the notion of someone being smarter than they are! And let me tell you, if you happen to fall into the latter category, that, in spite of your cruel jokes, I *am* a genius, and one day THE ENTIRE WORLD WILL BE FORCED TO RECOGNISE IT!!!"
Oh yeah, this was the future Drakken alright.
"Okay, then Lipsky!" I said, feeling into my jacket pocket, and pulling out my credit card holder. "I'll prove it to you. Look at my ID! See the date of birth? If I was born in *that* year, I wouldn't be this old now then, would I? And look - check out this photo taken of me a couple of years ago in my time. The jacket I'm wearing clearly says 'Club Banana 2000'! They made that line to tie in with the new millennium - which is still twelve years away now! See?"
He snatched up the photo and studied it for a few moments, then stuffed it back into my hand. "Proves nothing! Cheap, mediocre fake photography. . . couldn't even transfer the entire jacket in the developing lab - half of one of the sleeves is missing!"
I didn't take the bait and pocketed it once more with out looking. "Come on, I'm being serious here! You'd better start believing me, Lipsky, or. . ."
"Alright then, future-girl, tell me this - who's President of the United States in the year 2003?"
"George Bush."
"Ha! You mean that hack who's trying to run next year? Like he'll ever make it into the White House in a billion years, let alone fifteen. . . the least you could have done is come up with a more convincing background story!"
"No, that's George Bush Snr! I mean George Bush Jnr! And besides. . ."
"Listen, I don't need this! I've got enough problems as it is without you ranting on at me! I think I've had my fill of practical jokes for today, wouldn't you, so, if you'll excuse me, I have work to be doing!" Clutching his headgear and a collection of tools, he made for the corridor without looking back, bustling out a back door and heading for the rustic garage in his pitiful back yard.
"Hey, come back! You can't just walk out on me like this! I need your help here!" I shrieked, spurting after him.
He slammed the shed door hard, bolting it for good measure.
"LISTEN TO ME!" I could have easily activated the rays in my gloves and torn the door down in a flash, but I couldn't risk alienating him further. He was tough enough as it was. "I'M NOT LYING!" I felt like banging my head against the door in frustration, when it came to me. "I REALLY AM FROM THE FUTURE! I know how you got that bruise on your head - you told me! You were hanging up your clock above your toilet, when you slipped and banged your head on the toilet seat, and then you suddenly got the idea for. . . oh, what's that stupid device?. . . the flux capacitor! That's it!"
A few silent seconds. Then, the door finally reopened, and he stepped out, looking much whiter than before.
-
"Okay! It's should be right over there! Pull over!" I ordered, as we neared the billboard sign I'd passed earlier.
Drew Lipsky did just so, steering his car to the side of the road, at which I leapt out and raced round to the other side of the notice, to find, much to my relief, the 626 still present and all in one piece.
Drew followed, as soon as he got the chance. "Is this it, Shego? Where's the flux capacitor?"
"Right there inside the vehicle. Along with everything else. This is it - the time machine that brought me here into the past."
"My present," he corrected, opening the car door. "Wow! I don't believe it - the flux capacitor, exactly as I envisioned it! Look!" He reached into his pocket and tore out a very tattered but nonetheless fully legible rough biro drawing on a piece of toilet paper. A sketch of the very same device. "It works! Can you believe it? I actually go on to invent something that works! This is incredible! I always knew I was a genius, but. . . this is just too brilliant!"
"Yeah, it sure is. Okay, Drew, now I've brought you here, what are we going to do now?"
"We'll have to find some way of sneaking this thing back to my house, I suppose."
"Right now? Shouldn't we wait until it gets dark? I don't think attracting anyone else's attention with this thing would be a very good idea."
"I don't think there's much chance of that. Everyone seems to have abandoned Middleton today and flocked down to Farmer Peabody's Christmas tree farm. I can't imagine why. . . must be a party on or something. Which I note that I WASN'T INVITED TO!"
"Okay, and then what?" I asked, flinching.
"We can hide it in my garage. Then, we'll have to figure out a way to get you back home!"
-
It took us a while to escort the broken-down 626 back through the streets of Middleton and into the concealment of Drew's rustic garage, but, as Drew had predicted, the place had virtually become a ghost town since breakfast. I had an uneasy feeling about that, deep down, but, for the time being at least, it was something we could take full advantage of.
"Whoa, this is the most stylish looking car I've ever seen," Drew commented, once we had it safely in his garage, with the door bolted. "And to think, it can really travel through time! An idle dream no longer. . ."
"Unless of course you can't figure out a way to get it fixed!" I asserted. "Right now, it's about as effective a time machine as my jump-suit!"
"Well, I'll give it my best shot, Shego. First, I'll have to figure out how it works. Which won't be easy, looking at the state of things. Do you have any idea how exactly this device functions yourself?"
My brains suddenly started to hurt. "Well, in the year 2003 you did explain it very vaguely to me. . . something about time circuits. That's it! You turn on the time circuits and those three LCD clocks should display where you are, where you're going, and where you've just been. Time-wise I mean."
"Okay, then what?"
"You enter the time you want next using the keypad there. Then you just rev up the vehicle and go. Which would be easy, only I can't even get it to rev up any more. It's gone completely dead!"
"Maybe it's just out of power," Drew suggested. "Hmmm, that would be a start. . . have you any idea how much power a thing like this needs to get going?"
"Hey, you told me this one too! Come on, I know I stored it away in here somewhere. . erm. . . I do know it, I just need to think . . come on. . . I got it! I remember! 1.21 gigawatts!"
He looked blank. Then he screamed. He screamed and smacked his forehead with his fist, screamed and grabbed himself by a sleeve, squeezing tight, screamed and bolted out clean out of the garage, still screaming all the while.
"Hey, come back here!" I called after him as he darted back into his house.
"1.21 GIGAWATTS????? YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS! OH, HOW COULD I HAVE BEEN SO CARELESS? HOW? HAVE I GONE COMPLETELY INSANE IN THE YEAR 2003 OR SOMETHING?"
"What's the problem?" I asked, skidding inside.
He was burying his face in a cushion, collapsing back on his battered couch. "1.21 gigawatts. . . oh man, what have I done? What have I done to this world?"
"WHAT?" I was starting to get pretty freaked out myself at this stage. "What *have* you done?"
"I don't know!" he sobbed. "All I know. . . is that it's just not possible to make that kind of power. It can't be done. I'm sorry, Shego, but you're stuck here."
"Tell me this is all just part of *your own* practical joke!" I growled.
"Hey, the year 1988 isn't so bad. You'd only have to wait another fifteen years before you got back to 2003. Then you could just pick up your life as you left off."
"Fifteen years? I can't wait that long! I'd be like 40 when the year 2003 finally roles around again, and you really expect me just to pick up my life as I left it off?"
"Hey, it could be a hell of a lot worse!" he countered. "You could have gone back fif-*ty* years! Then what would you have done?"
"Besides everything else I have a life back in the year 2003! I'm used to the ways of the early 21st century. I just couldn't get used to the late eighties, they're too. . . vibrant!"
"Well, what do expect me to do? I can't make that kind of power. . ."
"Come on, all it takes is a little plutonium."
"PLUTONIUM? Listen, future-girl, I'm sure that in the year 2003 plutonium is available in every corner drug store, but this is 1988, and I gotta tell you - it's pretty scarce right now! No, the only other thing in existence capable of generating 1.21 gigawatts would be a bolt of lightning, but, have you ever tried to capture a lightning bolt? That's the problem with lightning, you never know when and where it's gonna strike."
Heart beating fast, I dived my hand deep into my pocket once more.
"We do now!" I said, showing him the flier I'd picked up earlier.
Hesitating, he took it and began reading. Finally, the smile returned to his face. "Fifteen years ago, on 16th July, at precisely 10:04pm, the Middleton centre clock was struck by a bolt of lightning!" he proclaimed, scanning the words off the flier. "This is perfect, Shego! If we can harness that lightning bolt, in exactly one week's time we may just be able to return you to the year 2003. NEXT SATURDAY NIGHT WE'RE SENDING YOU BACK TO THE FUTURE!"
"Yay! That's cool! I can spend a week here in 1988, no trouble!"
"Oh yes. . ." he purred, rubbing his hands together. "I can't wait to get you down to my old college and present you to those three so-called 'friends' of mine - that would sure wipe the smiles off their faces, after they all laughed at me, when they see that I'm destined to create the world's first working time machine. . . oh, heck no! What was I thinking? You can't just go outside and live it up when you've travelled backwards in time! Anything you do can have an adverse effect on the time continuum. You can end up completely destroying the future as you knew it! In just hope you haven't been interacting with anyone else today, Shego!"
I jolted, and cast my mind back. "Well. . . inevitably. . . with a few people, maybe."
"Just a few?"
"Nothing really. I just terrified a farmer, ordered a cola, informed one fast food joint employee of his future, taunted a future geneticist and. . . saved Loraine McFly, future creator of Club Banana, from being run over. . . by her future husband, George McFly. . ."
Suddenly, I didn't like the way that last one sounded. Neither did Drew Lipksy.
"I assume she isn't known as 'McFly' right now?" he asked.
"I guess not, if they've yet to meet and get married. I don't know what her surname currently is. . ."
"And they haven't yet met?"
I thought back. "No, from what she was telling DNAmy in that diner, she hasn't yet had the guts to approach him. From what I saw, she's a serious wimp, that Loraine. . . no wonder she needed the help of the top business student to get Club Banana launched!"
"And, tell me, by any chance was that business student this same George McFly?" He was actually starting to look pretty worried.
"Yes. . ."
"Oh, that can't be good."
"What? They'll have other chances to meet, won't they?"
"Well, not having been there myself, and not having the benefit of hindsight on the years to come, unlike you, it's difficult to judge, but from what I can piece together. . . you just stopped them from ever meeting! For good! If you hadn't been there, Shego, then I imagine that this Lorraine *would* have been run down. . . and it was how she and this George McFly would have met. Complete dumb luck. Otherwise, this Lorraine was too cowardly to have approached him on her own. . . Club Banana? That sounds familiar. . . didn't you mention it earlier? Of course, show me that photograph again!"
I could feel my hand trembling as I removed it from my pocket and handed it over.
"Of course, this validates my theory!" he exclaimed, studying it. "The time continuum has been disrupted. . . the last time I saw this photo, half of one of your Club Banana 2000 jacket sleeves appeared to have been cut off. Now. . .just look for yourself."
I could feel my innards shaking as I made my way over and finally summoned the courage to take a glance. I gasped. "Hey, what the heck happened? An entire sleeve's just disappeared! It wasn't like that when I first had it taken - both sleeves were fully intact!" I paused. "It's like. . . like it's just been erased. . ."
"Bingo!" replied Drew. "You have any idea what you've just done? YOU JUST WIPED THIS CLUB BANANA LOGO CLEAN FROM EXISTENCE!"
"No way! See this jacket I'm wearing right now? It's Club Banana too. See, check out this logo on the inside of the collar! If all Club Banana items were being erased from the time continuum, surely this one would be disappearing too?"
"When did you buy that particular jacket?"
"It's the very latest."
"So, 2003?"
"Uh-huh."
"Things would obviously disappear in the order that they were made. This 2000 jacket would be the first to go. . . in time that one you're wearing, from 2003, would gradually begin to disappear too. . . there you have it. Things always seem to have a natural way of working out in life - unless of course, man, or, in this case, woman, finds the need to interfere! You know what this means, don't you? It means that the future you're about to return to has been completely disrupted! You could get back and find it twisted beyond recognition!"
"Because of the absence of one designer logo?" I asked.
"Hey, it's impossible to estimate just how much balance that logo gave to the society you knew. You'd be amazed at the damage that one small mistake could do - just imagine it, these two kids never met, Club Banana was never created, result - kids of the future are deprived of the designer clothing they crave and lust for, without this need satisfied, they become bored and irritated, and start to become more aware of each other's inner flaws. A whole new generation grows up, no doubt, confused, frustrated and paranoid, unable to trust another individual who comes within ten feet from them, even worse still, exploited by corporations who want to cash in on their misery by feeding them again and again the idea that their neighbour is their deadliest enemy, by means of selling products for offence and protection. In the end, this world-wide lack of trust gets really bitter. Someone turns on another someone. It all starts out small, but believe me, it gets bigger and bigger with every second that passes, until all-out war is declared - everybody against everybody, and I'm not pulling any punches! You could get back to 2003 to find that civilisation has completely fallen, and you're one of the very few left! Of course, that's just an extreme example, but I'm sure you get my drift."
Once more, I found that I could barely stand up straight. The world was beginning to blur all over again. It had never occurred to me just how important these designer logos could be. Why hadn't I thought of that before? It wasn't just about looking good and staying ahead of everyone else. It was about civilisation. "Oh, geez, this is so. . . heavy!"
"Weight has nothing to do with it, Shego!" Drew asserted. "You only have one option here. If you want to return to a future world worth living in, you're going to have to sort this one out yourself. Somehow, you've got to fix it so that wimp Loraine still goes on to initiate this Club Banana logo! And you have until the 16th of June to put everything right, without disrupting the time continuum further. . . you just broke the time barrier, Shego, and now you've only got one week to get it fixed!"
* * *
*Thanks for reading. I appreciate your interest. Chapter Four will be on the way shortly, though I have a busy week ahead, so don't expect it to come quite as quickly as I brought you Chapter Three after adding Chapter Two. Later.*