Author disclaimer: I do not own Meet the Robinsons, but you can never tell what will happen in the future hehe.

Thanks for hanging in there guys :) and Have a Merry Christmas, Happy holidays, and a wonderful New year.


Chapter 6:

"And that's how I got here." Wilbur finishes recounting. "In a nutshell…basically."

Of course, he had left out the parts where he cried. There were just things too sad and embarrassing to tell your best friend…who technically in the future would become your father…who dies.

"You're not mad at me, are you Lewis?" He probes.

"Mad…why should I be mad?" Lewis whispers. "I mean, I only just found out that I die a horrible death…"

"So…you are mad at me?"

"Well, Wilbur. As you would put it…that is an excellent question." He stands and walks away.

"Lewis! Lewis! You gotta believe me! I want to change this as much as you do." Wilbur runs after him.

"Come on! Talk to me! I'm your friend, Lewis!"

Lewis stops, turns around, and puts his hand up to stop him. "Wilbur...just please... leave me alone."

And he slams the door shut.

"I'm so sorry."Wilbur punches the wall. He leans against the door, the fatigue finally catching up with him. "Please Lewis, don't be mad at me."

"Having a fight eh?" He didn't notice Bud coming down the hallway. Bud talks to Wilbur with the fake face drawn on the back of his head.

"I'm sorry if we were loud grandpa," he says, until he realizes what he had just said. "Oh whoops."

"Oh hehehe! I'm not that old yet!" Bud turns around and gives the boy his hand. "Come on. Let's just leave Cornelius to stew. He'll come out when he's ready."

Wilbur looks back at the door. This really wasn't how he had imagined things would go.

"So what d'ya want for dinner? My wife cooks a mean spaghetti and meatballs!"

"That would be fine, sir. I'm actually not that hungry right now."

"Ah, don't let it get you down kiddo. It's a very long ways to the kitchen. If you want, you can tell me what this is all about, and hopefully ole Bud here can help!"

"I don't think you can."

"Well then, just give me the gist of it, and let me decide if I can handle it or not," he states as he strokes his chin.

"I…well…he asked me a question…and I don't think he liked the answer."

"Well, then why so gloomy about that? If you told him the truth, then it's up to him whether he takes it badly or not."

"I know…I just…I didn't want to ruin our friendship…"

"Oh, poppycock! Don't underestimate our Cornelius! He has a good set of gray matter between those shoulders of his." Bud opens the door to the kitchen. "You'll see. Just give him time. And besides...I can see that he values your friendship more than anything else."

"I guess you're right…" Wilbur thinks about it for a few more seconds. "Yeah! You're absolutely right! Thanks grandpa!"

"Oh heeheehee! Grandpa! Well now, that does have a nice ring to it." He turns to call to his wife. "Lucille! I think Wilbur just got hungry for some of that spaghetti o' yours?"


Lewis could not sleep that night. No matter which way he turned, there were no comfortable positions. That and the fact that all he could think about was his impending doom in thirty years time.

"I definitely thought I was going to grow old with Franny, at least," he says calmly. "…I'm actually taking this pretty well."

He takes a deep breath, until his lungs are full and it starts to hurt, then exhales, "Oh, who am I kidding? I'm not taking this well at all!"

Lewis gets up and punches his pillows. "Stupid Wilbur! Why'd he have to come back and tell me? Grrr!"

When letting out all the aggression he felt stops being satisfying, he throws his pillows away and goes back to laying down and staring at the ceiling.

"Okay! Think Robinson think! What do I know? I'm going to die. In thirty years, I will send Wilbur back to warn me that I'm going to die. Um…I guess that's it really…No…that means Cornelius is expecting something from me. But if Cornelius was warned too, why did we still die?" The question hangs in the air. There is something that he hasn't thought of yet. Why would Cornelius, the greatest scientific mind of his age, not just invent something to save himself?

"There's something there. I can feel it. It's on the tip of my tongue. Gah! It's not coming out!" He rolls around on the bed for a while, clutching his head, willing for some spark of innovation to come to him. He stops, exhausted, as nothing enters his brain.

Well, nothing except the thought of Wilbur.

Beside all the panic Cornelius currently feels is the growing guilt whenever he thinks about the older boy.

He was only trying to help you.

"I know! I know!" He taps his hand against his head in reprimand. "I shouldn't have treated him like that."

Then apologize!

"Why should I?" And Lewis realizes he is actually being stubborn to the voice in his head.

"At least…Wilbur took my death really well."

I don't think so.

"I know! I know I'm right! Gah! I hate being right…better go and apologize then."


The dim lights of the laboratory were still on.

"Guess he's still awake." Lewis climbs the stairs and finds the boy already on the make shift bed, sleeping on his side. "Geez, wasting electricity in this day and age...sigh...at least he cleaned up that mess earlier."

The blankets lay on the floor. "No wonder he's shivering."

He picks them up and notices Wilbur clutching the photo to his chest. Tears roll down his face as he cries in his sleep.

Lewis drapes the blanket over him.

"Dad?" Wilbur opens his eyes, and still groggy, he sees the outline of golden hair against the light.

"Go back to sleep. You were just having a bad dream."

"Oh, it's you Lewis." It hurt the inventor to hear the disappointment in that voice.

"Just get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

"Don't leave okay? I don't want to be alone."

"I won't. I'll be right here looking after you."

"That's good…" He digs deeper into the blankets, a smile on his face.

Lewis switches the lights off and uses the lamp on his desk. He opens his notebook and begins to think.

So let me stop focusing about myself for a moment…there was a reason I sent Wilbur back. I mean, even if I were to die, I would never send my son back just to save myself…right? Did Cornelius succumb to using the time machine to alter the past? I don't know. I won't know until that time comes. So don't worry about it now!

What do I know? About anything. Everything. Take into account time traveling. This is physics and science and reality. There are rules. No! Laws that must be followed. The first law of time travel must be…that I cannot be negated by anything in the future before I build the time machines. If I were to disappear, time travel would not be possible thus negating my own death. I mean this is just conjecture so I could be wrong…

The second law…would be that the reason for the use of the time machine cannot be negated…is that it? I think I got it…if I never die, Wilbur does not go back into the past to try and save me, negating the fact that he warns me of an impending murder. And I die anyway...Focus on the problem now! Don't think about that until later.

The third law…time travel seems to be the only way to change the past…but is it really? Too many paradoxes are created. What if…I think of the whole of human history as one book. With a beginning and an end. Wait…time travel. Let me go back to the first law. When Wilbur took me to the future, I disappeared from my timeline. I jumped thirty years in the book…but why…why didn't the future disappear then?

The scratching of his pen stops. He dreads writing down what he thinks next.

The future didn't disappear…because Wilbur had brought me back to the exact time I had left. But the universe should be able to tell the difference right? If I were taken out of my timeline, the future should be different from my point of view…It would be as if I hadn't been there…but then the time machines would disappear since I disappear from my timeline. If I went back, then the future will have changed to how it would normally have been. My point of view should differ depending on where I am in time.

Are there more of me then? Two possibilities arise. Either, there are multiple dimensions for each branching timeline, sustained by its own Cornelius and we travel between these dimensions…or if I go back to the book analogy…there is a Cornelius in every page sustaining it...

He lets the thought sink in.

Maybe…maybe the story has already been finished. And time travel, all of this…are just events in that story. What if…we are all just characters in the plot? Maybe there is no way to change it…this was meant to happen…

He closes his notes. "No…I can't think like that…I have to find a way."

"Cuckle-doo-doo-doo!" A rooster cries out.

Wait…there aren't any roosters around here!

"Took you long enough!" Wilbur says, clearly annoyed. "You've been in a daze since I woke up."

To Lewis' surprise, the sun was already halfway to its peak. "What time is it?"

"Around ten. You skipped breakfast, and I've actually been talking to you for the past two hours."

"Talking?"

"Yea! Though, you didn't really say anything back. I thought you were just ignoring me or something." Wilbur crosses his arms. "I was apologizing for a whole hour until I realized you were in one of your trances."

"Apologize? For what?"

"You know...for the..." Lewis smiles at him, and Wilbur smiles back, taking the hint.

"So! Now that one problem has been solved, have you figured out how we're going solve problem number 2, executing operation Save the Nerd?"

"Hmm…" Lewis leers at him with a cold expression. "Callously calling your father a nerd to his face. If I survive all this, I will not forgive you so easily."

That look. His father's look that always made him want to run. Wilbur tries to swallow but his mouth seems to have dried up. He did not like that conspiring look on his face.

"Okay, okay! I'm sorry…but have you thought of a way out of this?"

"That is an excellent question!"

"Stop stealing my line! It's trademarked! This is infringement!" Wilbur waves his arms in the air to emphasize his aggravation.

"I'm starving." Lewis turns, not even seeming to listen to what the other boy was saying.

"You hear me Cornelius Robinson?" He yells at the blond. "Come back here!"


"Okay so we've gotta come up with a plan," Wilbur says as he opens the door.

They arrive in the deserted kitchen. The table already cleaned before Lucille and Bud left for work.

"First, we eat." Lewis opens the cupboard and grabs the box of cereal inside.

"Don't you have any sense of urgency here?"

"Wilbur, I think thirty years is enough time to worry about it. But right now…breakfast. I'm starving." And as if to accentuate it, his stomach growls.

Wilbur concedes. He taps his foot nervously as he watches the other boy eat.

"Why don't you eat something too? The way you're looking at me right now, I get the feeling that you want to attack me."

"No, I'm good." He stares a bit more, concentrating at that bowl of cereal, and with his eyes, tries to will the other boy to eat it faster .

"Fine," Lewis sighs. "Suit yourself then…but I'm going to take my time and enjoy my food."

Wilbur attempts to control his impatience…by groaning every six seconds. In the meantime, Lewis enjoys the spectacle, aggravating the other boy by chewing as slowly as humanly possible.

To Wilbur, centuries go by before the last flake is swallowed. He grabs the bowl from Lewis' hand and washes it himself. "Now! Can we go and talk strategy here?"

"Okay, let's go to the time machine then." Lewis decides gravely. "It's time to go back."

"Finally!"

Wilbur asks questions as he leads him to the empty field behind the house. Lewis just looks forward and grunts an assent every once in a while.

"Here we are!" The time machine appears in tiny blocks of color as the camouflage wears off. Wilbur gets on the ship. Looking at Lewis, the boy does not seem to have the intention of coming with him at all. He slowly understands and asks hesitantly, "Why aren't you getting on?"

"'Cause…you're the only one that's going back."

"What? But we haven't done anything?"

"From now on, it's going to depend on me. There is no 'we' here." He looks at his son, unwavering.

"But…"

Lewis shakes his head. "Whatever happens will happen Wilbur. It's your job to see this through."

"I…I don't want you to die." Wilbur's eyes begin to burn inside his skull.

"…Wilbur," Lewis smiles as he calls his name. "There are just some things that are meant to be. Even if you saved me, I will have to eventually die someday."

Wilbur did not want to hear him, as he says, "No one can run from death."

"Dad…" His voice was breaking. "I'm worried. What if your plan doesn't work? What if…"

"Don't worry about me Wilbur…" Wilbur could see the determination now set on his face. "I will do my best to get through this. I promise, you won't have to grow up without me."

The word promise sends a chill down Wilbur's spine. The man had broken enough of them already. "Please, let me help you. I'm sure we can figure something out!"

"Wilbur, I'm your father, remember? I'm asking you nicely here. Do as I say, and go back...please."

"No! I'm not going to leave until you explain yourself to me!"

Lewis closes his eyes,thinking deeply, then says, "Machine over ride. My name is Cornelius Robinson."

The time machine closes its hatch, and Wilbur tries desperately to open it again to no avail. "Lewis? Lewis! What have you done?"

"Neat huh? I decided to install an over ride at this precise moment, and it comes true. I am starting to figure out the laws of space and time."

"Lewis! Open the door now!"

"Sorry Wilbur. But you have to go back."

Wilbur bangs against the window, crying at how helpless he feels at that moment. "Please don't do this! I want to help you! I came all this way..."

"Machine…return to Robinson house…time coordinate 11182038." The time machine lifts off the ground and stows away its landing mechanism.

"Lewis! Promise me! You must promise to tell me in the future! 3:45 in the afternoon! Remember that!"

"As long as you promise that even if I die, you will continue to live your life."

"I promise!"

"Wilbur…I know it's hard for you right now. But one day, things will get better." He could barely hear the blond against the roar of the engine. "Remember. Don't look back. Keep moving forward."

At those words, the machine jets into the sky, and the time bubble emerges. As Lewis looks on, it pops, the machine returning to the future. Only silence remains. Wilbur's frantic pleas keep echoing in his head, however. He knows he should not have made that promise, but there was no point in regretting that decision now.

"See ya later, pal."


Author's note: I never knew how hard it was to create a paradox in space and time haha. Props and massive respect to those who can.

This story is actually starting to get me down, and contrary to what I write, I'm usually always happy (Not a negative Norton hmm!). But you know to change direction, you gotta take it slowly by degrees. So hang in there. If the angle of entry is correct, there might be a rainbow after all this downpour.