November 7, 1967
5:00 PM PST

The phone rings, and Lorraine goes to answer it.

"Hello?" said Lorraine, as she picked up the receiver.

"Hi, Carol," said Lorraine. "How's everything?" She listens for a moment.

"Wow," said Lorraine. "That's a great idea. He's right here. I'll ask him." She turned to Marty. "Marty, this is Carol from the Hill Valley Reservation Society. She wants to know if you'd like to speak at the festival tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" said Marty, nervously. "Uh, I wouldn't know what to say."

"You could talk about your experiences as a draft resister," replied Lorraine.

"Well," said Marty. "There's not much to tell."

"Please, Marty," said Lorraine. "It would mean so much to us."

"I'm not so good at public speaking," explained Marty. "But I'll be happy to help out."

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Marty is now at a hippie pad painting a peace symbol. There are other hippies making signs. A radio in the background is playing "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane. The pad is decorated with blacklight posters and lava lamps.

"You bake the peels," Marty overheard a hippie girl say. "Then you scrape out the insides, roll it, and smoke it. And it's legal. They can't outlaw bananas." Marty chuckled to himself, as he knows that smoking banana peels can't get you high. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns around to see a guy with shoulder-length hair and a mustache.

"Hey man," said the guy. "Some friendly advice. Like, you're blowing it here." Marty didn't understand what he just said.

"You don't like my sign?" questioned Marty.

"Your hair, man," answered the long-haired guy. "You gotta let to go longer, get shaggier. And do a 'stache trip."

"What's that got to do with protesting the war?" Marty asked, confused.

"This ain't no protest, man," replied the long-haired guy with the mustache. "It's about chicks! They go apeshit for long hair. Make love, not war. You know what I mean?"

"I can dig it, man," said Marty. A freak who was smoking a joint got excited over a sign he just painted.

"Oh wow!" exclaimed the freak. "This is so heavy, like it just came to me, and seeing it here, it's like cosmic, you know? It's really gonna mess with people's heads." Marty looks at the sign. It says 'Power to the People.'

"Yeah, you're breaking some important ground with that," said Marty, sarcastically. A forty-ish woman walks in with a stack of flyers for the festival. The woman was Carol, the founder of the Hill Valley Preservation Society and the same church-group type woman who wants to save the clock tower.

"All right, people," Carol said, enthusiastically. "I need volunteers to distribute flyers and get the word out."

"I'll get some up around campus," said a girl wearing a black armband that said RIP Paul.

"I'll help her," said the guy with the mustache. The girl takes the flyers as she exits with the mustache guy.

"I get high from this," the girl said, after smelling the ink.

"I'll get some down on John F. Kennedy Drive," said Marty, as he takes some flyers.

"Heavy," said the joint-smoking freak. "Working for peace on a street named for a president brought down by a gun. Like, you must be a real symbolism freak, and I can grok that scene." That wasn't Marty's reason for going to John F. Kennedy Drive, but he nodded.

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Marty walks to Doc's garage and drops the flyers in the trash. He walks in to see Doc welding on a bench. Doc was so absorbed in his work that he didn't notice Marty come in. Marty looks around until he spots a counter with the letter from 1955 lying on top of it. Only two thirds of the letter was taped together. Marty hears a buzz. It's an early version of the dog food machine turning on. The dog food misses the dish.

"Aw, Jesus! That's disgusting!" muttered Marty. Doc's dog, Newton, runs through the doggie door, sees his lunch on the floor and barks. Doc stops working and looks up.

"All right, Newton," said Doc. "I'll take care of it." Then he sees Marty.

"Marty, I didn't hear you come in," said Doc.

"How are we doing here, Doc?" asked Marty.

"I've got it knocked, Marty," Doc said, scooping Newton's food and putting it in the dish. "The circuits are fried. The ones in this time machine are made in Japan, so it would not be easy to find ones that could replace them."

"Oh, man," said Marty. "This is heavy!"

"But," said Doc. "I came up with a plan. We hook up these trip wires to the car's battery and the flux capacitor so electricity from the battery can transfer to the flux capacitor."

"Doc," said Marty. "I just want to know one thing. Exactly how did you conceive this plan?"

"I took some LSD and it just came to me," replied Doc. Marty's mouth fell open as he never thought that Doc would ever do drugs, even in the 1960s.