October 23rd, 2015.
9:30 A.M.
"Wake up. The time is now nine-thir-ty A.M.," came the voice of the computerized alarm clock in Marty Junior's room. The 17-year-old stirred a bit before groggily coming to.
"Wake up. The time is now-" the clock tried to continue before its owner reacted.
"Yeah, I'm up. Shut off, please," he said, now realizing the time. Oh no, the school hoverbus is gonna be there in five minutes. I think I gotta go.
His school bus arrived at 9:20 A.M. (conveniently right at the entrance to HillDale), but in typical McFly fashion, he had been late and slept through it. The 4-mile trip took 40 minutes because of all the detours to pick students up at different stops. He knew he'd better book it to make the city bus and not be late. He certainly didn't want 'Grandpa Strickland' to give him an even worse punishment than yesterday. However, nothing could stop him from quickly trying to comb his hair the old-fashioned way and trying to look good for any girls at school.
Running downstairs and into the kitchen, he took a dehydrated set of Pop-Tarts out of the cabinet, before putting them in the family's Black & Decker hydrator. "Umm, yeah, Level 1."
Within seconds, he was grabbing his breakfast on the go without even bothering to close the door. As he got a large Pepsi Perfect bottle from the refrigerator, his father came into the kitchen.
"Hey, son. Late for the bus again, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess they couldn't wait long enough," the teen said, sarcastically.
Sometimes, the older Marty would get frustrated with his son's smart-aleck comments, but buried beneath the depressed, grumpy man he appeared to always be, he still found it funny as he would've when he, himself, was 17.
"You're really a smart-ass sometimes, ya know that? But, it kinda reminds me of David Lee Roth's sense of humor," he said, knowing that one of the few personal things he had in common with his son was both of their love for the 1980's. I guess it's not hard to see why. This is basically a futurized 80's anyway. I'd have thought this was too heavy if I ever time travelled here from 1985.
"Oh yeah. Now I-I just gotta get a girlfriend, so I can say I wish they could be California Girls. Ya know?"
"Yeah, yeah, it'll happen someday. You're a good-lookin' guy, you just gotta be calm and cool about it like I was. Anyway, maybe you can still get to school. I'd drive ya, but I do a couple job interviews on the videophone soon, and Marlene already left for work," he said, before slightly sarcastically adding in, "After her ten-hour date. When does the next city bus get here?"
"9:37 or something. Time is going faster than Big Ben on the Scenery Channel," he said, another lame, nonsensical (and backfired) attempt at a joke.
"Alright, you better haul ass! I was always late too, but you better not make Grandpa Strickland pissed! See ya after school," said his dad, looking around, still bitter and depressed.
"Oh yeah, later," MJ said, running out the front door.
The street on this neighborhood was busier than the time traveling 1985 Marty Sr. and Doc (which didn't happen in 2015 Marty Sr.'s history) had seen. People were getting in their hover cars, and a few into old-fashioned vehicles, bound for work. In the future, school and work both started later and ended earlier, usually. In MJ's haste, he accidentally tripped over a pile of garbage packed up near a dumpster off to the side of the little sub-street.
"Ahh, stupid bags and boxes," he muttered loudly, even kicking one of the old crates into the body of the dumpster, much to the amusement of a few neighbors. He continued running off and turned left out of the main entrance of his large townhouse complex.
The bus stop was half a mile away, down the four-lane suburban road. Unlike in 1985, when it was mostly an empty field across the street, the space was now occupied with a large shopping center with a slamball court, an indoor miniature golf course, and even a few nightclubs. At this hour, it wasn't that busy, but many shops were open 24 hours.
Too bad I can't go in there instead of going to school, he thought, increasing his speed. With most cars flying over him, he simply ran in the middle of the old-fashioned road, since the bus stop would eventually be on the opposite side of the street than the one facing his house. He also had the awful habit of looking down or all around him when he walked, instead of right in front of him. As a result, he failed to notice an oncoming car honking their horn.
"Yo, kid! Get out of the street!" yelled the male driver with no reaction. "What's your problem, maxhole!?"
Still paying it only the slightest gander of attention, MJ had no idea that comment was directed at him before the car skidded to a stop. Yelling an "Aaah" for a second, the clumsy teen made a move his father might've done at a younger age; he jumped on the hood and over the roof of the antique circa-1992 Ford Escort before running off the other side.
As he ran, he yelled back, "Why, why don't you just get a hover-conversion, bojo?"
Now, in even more of a hurry to get to the school bus on time, he crossed over to the sidewalk and increased his speed. Unlike his father, though, he wasn't in that good athletic or physical shape for his age. As the distance increased to around a quarter-mile from home, he began to visibly tire out, his too-large jacket sleeves flapping wildly in the wind, as he started huffing and puffing.
Reaching to a small button near the bottom of one of the front sides of his jacket, MJ tried the auto-adjust.
"A-ttempt-ing to size ad-just," said the computerized voice as MJ kept pushing it and fiddling with it, even trying to roll the sleeves up by hand.
Stupid thing! How hard can it be to roll up? Mom coulda helped me with it too. I guess I should've asked.
Before long, came the answer. "Size ad-just-ing fea-ture, bro-ken."
The teen let out a disappointed moan before hearing something else in the distance that caught his attention.
"Bus Line 303 to downtown Hill Valley boarding from HillDale stop. Eastbound 303, now boarding. Time is now 9:37 A.M."
MJ heard the automated computerized voice operating in all public transportation vehicles in his time. The current stop would be announced twice, either to alert passengers of the location stop, or to people boarding at the last minute. The latter applied to MJ. Having been distracted by his jacket, he failed to even notice this until it was just about too late. The bus was still in its lowered position, letting passengers on and off. He saw the doors start to close and the vehicle heading vertically toward the skyway.
"Hey hey hey! You, st-st-stop that bus! I-I gotta get, umm, on it!" he shouted in a nervous stutter, running again in the most awkward, disheveled way possible. "Stop the bus, bojo!" he begged, now within earshot of the driver, but it was too late. His one ticket to possibly getting to school on time was shot as the vehicle ascended into the sky.
With a very little amount of cars on the ground, MJ ran to a suburban 1980's era house and frantically knocked on the door.
"Hey! Umm, anybody in there?" he said, continuing to knock as if he were banging on a set of bongo drums. "Open up, open up, please!"
A somewhat elderly man of about 75 opened the door reluctantly. "Hey, kid. Something the matter? What's all that knockin' about? The wife and I were just waking up."
"Yeah, a little. I just missed the stupid hover bus 'cause they were two minutes early," he said, fibbing. "And I-I just wanna know if you can get me downtown. I gotta get to school by 10."
"You woke me up for that? Kid, I thought this was an emergency or something!"
Beginning to have his grandpa's former self take over, he started to wimp out before being able to utter, "Sorry, but I just really have to get to school. If I don't, this mean old man; I mean, old like older than you; he's gonna discipline me and I can't be late. I only got twenty minutes."
"So, you'll walk in during 2nd period and get a detention. Ain't that what teenagers still get these days? Even in my day I skipped school a bit. Bein' half-an-hour late by taking the next bus won't kill you."
"I-I guess it won't. Umm, well, thanks," he said, walking off confused.
Despite the old guy seeming relatively nice compared to how he could've been, as well as offering unlikely advice, he did think about that for a minute. I never stayed home from school before, not unless I pretended to be stuffed-up ("sick") when I was little. Strickland is gonna give me even more detention, and I can't make dad turn on the Atrocity Channel again. No matter what that old man said, I can't zink off ("skip school") today.
And so began the 12-minute wait that seemed to never end.
…..
10:15 A.M.
"Route 303, east. Now landing, Hill Valley High School. Route 303, now landing," came the computer voice as the bus descended towards the ground on the Landing For Busses Only line.
Before it was even finished landing, MJ said, "Door, open," and was about to jump a good eight feet or so to the ground as it was.
"Whoa, whoa, where do you think you're goin', fella? You can't be tranked enough to jump down that distance," the bus driver logically asked.
By this time, it was only about four feet off the ground, so he made the jump. "Sorry. Late for school!" the teen said, dashing off toward the front steps of the building. He barreled into a large student by accident.
"Whoops, sorry, I-I swear I really didn't mean it. You see, I was just-" is all he managed to get out before he was stopped in his tracks by fear. In front of him was one of the school bullies, 17-year-old Barf Tannen. He was Biff Jr.'s son and the cousin of Griff. Regardless of relation, he didn't differ from his family tree much. This wasn't a guy to mess with, although he was pretty tame compared to Griff.
"You just ran into the wrong guy this morning, McFly! Since you're in a hurry, this one is free, but if you schiffy up ("get out of line") again, you'll be sorry. Especially after causin' Griff to get framed!"
It was hard enough having one Tannen as a bully, but two would be enough to make anyone snap after awhile. He could only pray Griff would be arrested long enough to at least cause him to relax a little. He lost count of how many times he'd been tempted to make fun of the bully's first name, but pretty much the whole school knew better than to do that.
"Um, sorry, Barf. Can I make it up to you or something? Buy ya a Pepsi Free after school," MJ weakly offered.
"I was gonna steal yours at lunch anyway. Look, just don't be a lobo today and stay outta my face, and you'll be fine," Barf said, walking away slowly.
MJ resumed the speed of his running, nearly hitting himself on the double glass doors before thumbing the plate, which slid them open. As he ran clumsily through the updated and redecorated large school hallway, he was heading for his first class: math. He hoped he could slip in while everyone was engrossed in their work, though more than likely, he knew he'd just get a tardy. As he turned to make a right, now heading down the main hallway on the lower floor, he heard that all too familiar aged voice behind him.
"A little late this morning, aren't we, McFly?"
There's no way out of this now. But, I guess I'll try. The teen visibly got a bit nervous.
"Yes, Grandpa, I-I mean, Mr. Strickland. I'm really sorry. You know I really didn't mean it, I didn't. The bus just, umm, had a flat tire," he managed to utter cowardly, his mind still on the 1980's and old cars to an extent.
The disciplinarian knew something was up, as his own voice began to elude some sarcasm.
"And, where were you taking an old-styled bus that drove on the ground? Despite the slacker I know you are, even you are smart enough to know this entire school district has been using hoverbusses since the smog-and-exhaustion law was passed in 2008. A vehicle of that size using ground travel is either for emergencies or if the skyway is currently filled. And I highly doubt it was occupied at 10:00 in the morning, young man!"
MJ remembered what the friendly old man had told him, and did his best to stay with it. "I swear, Mr. Strickland, it was true. I took a city bus. Plus I thought rush hour is still going on now too."
"I might be able to believe the first part. But, there's almost no chance it would get a flat tire and be fixed this soon. I know the bus from your house leaves approximately 9:30 AM. Face it, sssslacker! Your story simply does not add up. I know all the ins and outs from your old man. If he was a student, I'd still give him detention if I could!" the bald, only slightly wrinkled large man continued.
"And I thought you would've learned from spending an hour in my office yesterday. Apparently not. Here's your 3rd tardy fingerprint in a row, McFly," he said, taking out a computerized fingerprinting kit, applying it to the teen. "Now, you had better promptly show up in your first morning class."
"Y-yes, sir" the teen said, still cowardly, walking away in a sloppy manner. He had so much to worry about right now, it seemed, that the hoverboard incident was almost pushed out of his mind.
…..
12:00 P.M.
Marty McFly Sr. walked up to the medium-sized ranch house near the Lone Pine Mall which Jules Brown was renting. He was a little apprehensive about going against his good old friend's wishes by asking to borrow a time machine, but he also had to think about every failure he seemed to have: His family wasn't even that close to him anymore, he was currently unemployed, not to mention thirty years of mixed memories was driving him nuts!
Knocking on the front door, Marty remembered the two young men had just gotten an intercom, as was so prevalent in this time.
Pushing it in, he called again, "Yo, Jules! You there? It's Marty!"
Before long, a voice came back, "Marty! What's happenin', dude? Just thumb the door, it's unlocked. Come on in," called the young man, before the static cut it off.
Sure enough it worked. Stepping inside the house, the middle-aged man looked around. It had been awhile since he was here, and not everything was matching up to memory. The living room was filled-up with electronics, leaving a limited room for furniture. It was mostly "party" stuff, such as TV's, all kinds of tape and DVD machines, modern boomboxes, and the like, mixed with inventions no unlike the young man's father often had in his lab.
This worried Marty for a moment. With this mess, can this guy really give me a working time machine?
Before long, the voice of the intercom, greeted his longtime older friend. "Hey, what's up? Sure has been awhile since you last came over to the place. How do ya like all this?" he asked, gesturing to all the cool stuff in his living room, most notably the new virtual reality gaming system, the Playstation 9.
"Oh yeah, looks far out. Junior only has as far as the PS 7, and he's got a lot to learn with that thing still," he said, slightly interested, but trying not to show he was impatient. "Hey, sorry to be all sudden, but I really have to talk to ask ya about something."
"Shoot," Jules said enthusiastically.
Breathing a deep sigh, he said, "Alright. Do you still have a time machine lying around here?"
"Uhh, yeah, dad entrusted me to take care of that DeLorean. He stopped using it around the time he met mom in 1988 and had me. Dad had that car reworked back in 2004. He last time traveled in it on September 30th. In tons of senses, it's only 11 years old. It's basically got all new parts from then," he said rather quickly before stopping to ask. "Just wonderin' though, why'd you wanna use it now? I've been tempted too, but I'm too paranoid I'd do something to screw things up."
"It's a long story. I told your dad about it last night, but, I'll get right to the point. My life sucks, ya know? I just got fired from my job because of some jerk I've known since middle school. I just wanna get the timeline back to where it was, like the 2015 where I wouldn't have gone to the 50's."
"Well, dad believes in something he's always telling me about, called the Self-Preservation Effect of the timeline, like the same kind of things happening on the same days in a new reality. Knowing that, what if you were gonna get fired yesterday night in the original timeline? How would all this change that?"
Marty had to admit, that was yet another new way of looking at it. "You might be right, but even if that me was fired, my life would still be a little better 'cause I couldn't have that goddamn accident. My old man's car got wrecked, so I'm sure I wouldn't have even been driving around Hilldale that Sunday. This Self-Preservation isn't going to get down to every remote detail, is it? Doc said it was more historical events and newspaper printings, stuff like that.
"I guess you could try it. Me, being close enough to be part of the natural timeline, won't even know if you change it. We'll all turn into our alternate reality selves, so it'll have always been that way to us. That's some freaked-out stuff, huh?" Jules said to Marty's surprise and almost laugher. He had to admit it was pretty contradictory to hear deep scientific talk mixed in with teenage-like slang.
"You're tellin' me," Marty said, trying to keep a straight face.
"Well, anyway, I'm gonna have to give it a little few tests first, to make sure everything is running smoothly. I haven't even driven it as a car for a few months.