August 30, 1985
Three-year-old Evan Treborn looks at the flashing images on the Sony color television in the living room. "Transformers. Robots in Disguise," sings the tune as he sees the television show TransFormers, which is based on a toy line by Hasbro, which was licensed from the Japanese toy company Takara - not that a three-year-old boy would know such things.
Evan hears the door open, and he sees his daddy, towering over him. He is slightly confused, as his dad never came home when the Transformers were on TV.
"Hi there," says Jason. "Watching TV again?"
"Yes, Daddy," replies his son.
"Don't watch too much; it's only storytelling."
"Jason," says Andrea, carrying a load of clothes washed by the Kenmore washing machine in the garage. "You're home early."
"So? Why wouldn't I want to be home with you and Evan?"
"Well, mister, you're usually home late, never early."
"I work hard, babe," replies the twenty-five-year-old as he loosens his blue necktie. "But I'm taking a break for the weekend. How about the three of us have a nice little picnic in the park. You could use a break from housework, and Evan needs to be outside. Can't spend all of his time reading or watching TV."
Oooooooooooooo
August 12, 1987
The backyard behind the house in Harrison, New York is decorated with all sorts of decorations – balloons and banners. Wrapped gifts lie in a corner. A few children gather in the living room, along with some adults."I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For" by U2 can be heard playing on a boombox.
Andrea Treborn is here accompanying her five-year-old son, Evan. She takes a a glimpse of a chubby boy; he is Lenny Kagan, celebrating his fifth birthday.
"And how are you doing, Andrea?" asks Mrs. Kagan, Lenny's mother; she is a woman in her mid thirties.
"Great," replies Andrea.
"And your husband?"
"He's working late…again."
"It is too bad. He won't be meeting the Millers."
"Oh, they're the ones who moved their stuff here in that Ryder truck."
"Yes."
Andrea looks and sees a man and woman accompanied by two children, a boy and girl.
"Go on Evan," she says to her son. "Introduce yourself."
He approaches the girl and shakes her hand. She leans over and kisses him on the cheek. His face turning as red as a boiled Maine lobster, Evan rushes to hug his mother's leg.
"Don't go all the way, Kayleigh," says the man, appearing to be in his early thirties. "You're too young." He approaches Andrea. "George Miller. These are my kids, Tommy and Kayleigh."
"Andrea Treborn," she replies. "Evan is my son."
"And his father? Is he…."
"He works at American Pride Financial in White Plains; he has to work late today."
"Too bad, Mrs. Treborn. We're having a barbecue. Good old fashioned hamburgers."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Maybe you can meet my husband Jason later."
Oooooooooooooo
June 7, 1988
The wooden door opens, and a bespectacled man in his early twenties, wearing a white shirt, brown slacks, and a blue necktie enters the office.
"Hi there, Mr. Treborn" says the young man. "I guess I'm here to start interning."
"Welcome to your first day at work, Schnaufer," replies Jason. "Have a seat."
"Yes, sir."
Bob Schnaufer is a student from the same university Jason had graduated from. He applied for an internship at the White Plains branch of American Pride Financial Services. Jason chose him after reviewing thirty applicants, interviewing six of them. Bob Schnaufer impressed him the most. He had excellent insight on the securities markets – not as good as Jason's, of course – but a lot better than most people in the company. The branch manager offered the internship to Schnaufer at Jason's request.
Then again, I wouldn't really know if the kid could relive parts of his life by looking at a picture.
"You won't find things boring here, Schnaufer," says Jason. "You'll learn a lot from me, just as I learned from Mr. Bright here." He hands Schnaufer a sheet of paper which had been lying on the steel desk. "Here's a to-do list. So do it."
"Uh, yessir," says Schnaufer before leaving the office.
Jason steps out of his private office a few minutes later, approaching the coffee maker.
"Treborn," says branch manager Mr. Bright. "Have any news analyses lately?"
"I compiled a report on short-term market trends for the next couple of months," replies Jason. "I can print them out and give the report to you."
"Then do it right away," says Bright. "You know, Treborn, you are an amazing fellow. I mean, you were right to have us shift our assets to bonds and precious metals back in October of last year, before the market went down."
"It takes very detailed analysis, sir," says Jason. "The prices were too high for the earnings of those companies, and…well I guess I'll have to go get my report from that."
"That's history, Treborn. How about what's gonna happen this summer?"
Jason goes to the Apple Macintosh SE at his desk, printing out the report on an ImageWriter II printer.
Ooooooooooo
October 15, 1988
It is Saturday evening at the Treborn home. Earlier that day, Jason and Andrea took Evan to visit his grandparents Chris and Lucinda in Connecticut, and then to see a movie, Daffy Duck's Quackbusters. They have just finished their evening dinner of pot roast and asparagus in their dining room, which was remodeled a few months ago with a checkerboard pattern tiled floor.
"Listen, Andrea," says Jason. "I have something to show you."
"What kind of surprise is it?" asks Andrea. "I thought you wanted to watch the game."
"Let's go to the bedroom."
And so the two of them go into the master bedroom, which has a blue carpet installed just two months ago. Andrea starts to unbutton her blouse.
"Wait," she says. "Shouldn't we lock the door? We can't have Evan going in."
Jason takes a Polaroid camera.
"You're gonna take pictures of us?"
"You will take a picture of me," says Jason.
Andrea takes the camera and takes the picture. The photograph comes out of the slot of the camera, accompanied by a whine.
"Now what?" she asks.
Jason takes a sheet of paper from his study, writing a message. He then seals the envelope, handing it to his wife.
"What's this about?" asks Andrea. She looks at the envelope, which reads, Do Not Open Until the End of Game 1 of the World Series. "We're gonna watch the World Series? Are the Yankess playing?"
"L.A. Dodgers vs. Oakland Athletics," replies Jason. "We are going to watch it."
"What is in this envelope?"
"Information. You won't believe me unless you open it once the game is over."
And so just before the game is to start, Jason turns on the Sony color television and tunes in to NBC, which broadcasts the World Series. The pre-game festivities go on at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles, California. Vin Scully and Joe Garagiola comment on the events.
Just as the first pitch is about to be thrown, Jason suddenly looks around, looking confused.
"Something wrong?" asks Andrea.
"Oh, we're watching the game," replies Jason. "This will be fun."
Oooooooooooooo
The ball flies right towards home plate. Jose Canseco swings the bat. The next image shows the ball flying, flying, going out of the field.
Jason looks as the Oakland Athletics score a grand slam – four extra runs.
Ooooooooooooo
It is the bottom of the ninth - Athletics 4, Dodgers 3. Dennis Eckersley is pitching for the Athletics now. Only one of the Dodgers – Mike Davis – is on base.
"Now batting for the Dodgers, number 23, Kirk Gibson."
Kirk Gibson approaches the home plate. Murmurs could be heard among the spectators at Dodger Stadium this evening.
Pitches are thrown, with Gibson missing them.
"The count is now 3 and 2."
Jason looks towards his son, who is now awake.
"Even if he hits, he's gonna be thrown out unless he scores a home run," says Andrea.
"I know," replies Jason, looking intently at the TV screen.
Eckersley pitches the ball, and Gibson swings. A snap is heard, generated by a bat hitting a ninety-three-mile-per-hour fastball. Immediately, the outfielders run to catch the ball and deliver Game 1 to the Oakland Athletics. As the ball goes in the direction of right field, the right fielder runs, his glove extended.
The ball clears right field and goes into the bleachers.
"Holy shit!" shouts Jason, dumbfounded at what had just happened. Even with the volume of the TV at medium, the roars from the crowd can clearly be heard.
Andrea too looks at what Kirk Gibson had just did, despite his injury.
"Andrea," says Jason, "remember what I told you?"
"Yes," she says,. She takes the envelope with the instructions written on it. She opens it, taking out the paper inside.
1988 World Series
Game 1 Results
Athletics 4
Dodgers 5
Kirk Gibson scores a winning home run, bottom of the ninth, on a 3-2 count.
Andrea is even more surprised at what was written on the paper.
"How..how did you know?" she asks.
"I didn't know," says Jason. "I'm just as surprised as you."
"Come on. How could you know that Kirk Gibson was gonna hit the winning home run?"
Jason walks to the bedroom. He sees a Polaroid photograph of himself on the nightstand.
"What are you doing?" asks Andrea.
"Just watch."
Jason looks intently into the photograph, and then he looks around, a little dazed.
"Your nose!" exclaims Andrea, seeing a trickle of blood coming from her husband's nose.
"It seems to be a side effect," replies Jason, wiping the blood with a handkerchief. "I knew the results when I wrote that message because I saw the game already. You see, by looking at a photograph, I can relive that moment of my life."
"You…you can't be serious!"
"That is why I had to show you, why I wrote that message and sealed it. There's no other explanation."
Andrea looks at the message, predicting the results of Game 1 of the 1988 World Series. "How are you able to do this?"
"I'm not sure exactly," says Jason. "All I know is that if I look deep enough into a photograph, I could relive parts of my life."
"When did this start happening?"
"I had these flashbacks back when I was a kid. I didn't know what it really was. When I was sixteen, I decided to experiment, wondering if there were more to these flashbacks. I went back to my tenth birthday, put a note in a jar, and buried it under the back porch. When it ended, I went to the back porch and dug up the note."
"How did you know it didn't happen like that anyway?"
"The note had the present date written on it. Anyway, I started using these flashbacks more often, leaving notes for myself. Initially I left myself sports scores to win at gambling, and then I left myself investment tips. That's why I'm so successful in my field. My fortune was built on this ability."
Andrea sits on the bed. "This, this is a lot to take in."
"Everything will be fine," says Jason.
"You can take others with you?"
"I can only go alone." He wraps his arm around his wife's waists. "Everything is going to be fine. I have an edge on the future."
"What about taking me out next week?"
"We have to make babysitting arrangements for Evan, but I'm sure we can work something out."
"Did you know that from a note from the future?"
"Some things should be left to surprise."
Ooooooooooooooo
March 31, 1989
"Okay, okaywhat now?" asks Andrea as she looks at the carburetor of the 1987 Toyota Celica parked in the garage.
She turns and sees Evan and a cocker spaniel puppy, Crockett. Her son, who had turned seven a few weeks ago, hands her a 5/16" wrench.
"We're gonna be late again," says Evan.
"When did you care about getting to school on time?" asks his thirty-three-year-old mother.
"We're putting up pictures for Parents' Night," he replies. He watches his mother turn the bolt. "Righty-tighty, lefty-lucy."
"Thanks," replies Andrea. "Don't worry Evan, you'll have plenty of time." She looks at the carburetor, annoyed that it is not set. "Darn it!"
"Um, can dad come this time?" asks Evan.
They hear the engine of a 1983 Lincoln Continental start.
"You know the answer to that," says Andrea.
"Can't he just take time off or something?"
"We've been through this a hundred times. He works hard at this job to put food on the table and get you nice clothes and us this nice house. You won't believe all the things he goes through to do so."
"But Lenny said his dad was coming…and Tommy and Kayleigh's dad."
"Here, Ev," she says, handing him the wrench. "Finish this up for me."
Andrea removes the overalls to reveal a blouse and blue jeans.
"All the dads are gonna be there," says Evan, screwing together the carburetor.
"I get the point. But I'm not so bad, am I?"
"No."
"Good. Because I've been waiting to see your art projects all week and I'd feel terrible if all you thought about was your father not being there."
Evan hands the wrench back to Andrea. "Done. Try it."
Andrea sits in the driver's seat and starts the Celica. "You're amazing, kiddo."
Just like your father. What the fuck do they talk about in those stupid meetings, anyway?
Oooooooooooo
Why the fuck did I even go to this stupid meeting anyway?
Jason Treborn sits inside the huge meeting room located at American Pride's headquarters on the 96th floor of Building One of the World Trade Center in Manhattan. The Brooklyn Bridge is visible from this high up. Some loud-mouth executive clearly in love with his own voice drones on and on and on. Several other employees of American Pride stare blankly at him.
I wonder what Andrea and Evan are doing?
Oooooooooooo
April 7, 1989
"Thanks, George," says Jason, speaking on the phone. "We really appreciate you watching Evan. He won't be much trouble….Great, we'll see you soon."
"So we can drop him off there?" asks Andrea.
"Yeah. Finally we can see a grown-up movie. Like Cyborg or Troop Beverly Hills. God but I was getting tired of seeing those dumbed-down kiddie movies."
Evan finishes up a bowl of Post Lucky Charms cereal, feeding some of them to Crockett.
Minutes later, a black Lincoln Continental stops right next to the home of George Miller, with "Never Gonna Give You Up" by Rick Astley playing on the radio. Mr. Miller comes out of the house and approaches the car, opening the passenger door.
"Hey Jason, Andrea," he says. "Hey little man," Miller says to Evan.
"Here, George," says Jason, handing Miller a piece of paper even as Evan gets out. "My pager number. If there's any emergencies."
"Whaddaya kidding?" asks George, laughing. "We're going to have a great time today, right Evan?"
"Uh, what will you be doing?" asks Andrea.
"Making movies. Amateur movies."
"You know, George," says Jason, "one of my hobbies is home movies and photography. Gotta take a break from investment research, you know. Just the other day…"
"Jason, I think we should go," interrupts Andrea.
"Okay, dear. George, we should trade movies or something sometime." Jason puts the Continental into gear, and drives off.