Chapter Four

Thursday, June 7, 2001
5:55 P.M.
Hill Valley, California

The object, it turned out, was indeed a comet, if a rather distant and unremarkable one. It received the designation P/2001 L3 and would eventually be known as Comet Clayton. It would reach perihelion, the position closest to the sun, in seventy-nine days.

The occasion called for a celebration—specifically, the opening of a bottle of vintage 1811 Veuve Clicquot, bottled during the appearance of a major comet. Despite its chronological age, the bottle was only around a decade old, thanks to time travel (Doc having purchased it in 1820's France just for the occasion). Even Jules and Verne were allowed a sip—which neither of them liked at all.

Doc had invited everyone he knew. Marty and Jennifer were able to attend, along with their kids, Marly, 4, and Jimmy, 3. Sam Powell was at Princeton getting his PhD and Cindy Cox was at Sacramento State, but using Powell's time machine both were able to attend.

"So, uh, Doc," Marty said, "Congratulations on the Russian deal. I guess you're gonna be really rich now, huh?"

"100 million dollars," Doc said, "Frankly, I have no idea what I'd do with all that money. I can send Jules and Verne to the most expensive college in the world and have ninety-nine percent left over."

"You could always do charity work, like Bill Gates," Marty said.

"Clara's talked about that."

"So," Marty said, "Any chance of getting my own time machine?"

For several years now, Marty had been, for lack of a better word, pestering Doc for his own time machine. Marty would feel better, he said, knowing he could see the future on his own.

"Well," Doc said, "I think I'll have the time this summer. With Sam's assistance, I could build a new DeLorean for you over the course of summer."

"Great, Doc," Marty said. "Cause I miss it, you know? I can't believe I haven't time traveled since that 'incident' with Sam back in '96."

Doc smiled, "Well, you could have a chance soon enough."

"Oh? Where you going, Doc?"

"1590. One of Clara's relatives tracked us down and convinced me to take him there to do some research."

"Holy shit, Doc!" Marty set down his champagne glass, "Are you telling me you're being blackmailed?"

"Not at all!" Doc said, "His name's Jim Door, and he's a genealogist." Briefly, Doc explained the situation to Marty.

"Jesus, Doc," Marty said, "I thought you took care of the issue of the records lying around."

"I placed forged birth certificates—forged in the far future, undetectable by modern methods—for Clara, Jules and Verne. I never removed the originals."

"So this guy found the originals," Marty concluded, "Are you sure he's legit?"

"As certain as I can be. What are you thinking?"

"Well," Marty thought for a moment, "What if he's trying to get to the time machines? What if he knocks you out once you're in the air and goes back and, I dunno, kills the president?"

"I think Clara and I have a good read on the man," Doc said, frowning.

"I dunno, Doc," Marty said, "This makes me feel nervous."

"I guess you could accompany us. Watch our backs, that sort of thing," Doc said. "You just complained about not time traveling in five years."

Marty grinned, "That'd be great, Doc! So, when do I meet this guy?"

Doc checked one of his watches, "He was supposed to be here, actually. He was with Clara when she discovered the comet. I can't imagine why…"

The doorbell rang throughout the house.

"I'll answer it!" Doc said, running to the door.

Jim Door was at the door.

"Sorry I'm so late," Door said, "I overslept."

"Overslept?" Doc asked.

Door nodded as Doc closed the door, "I stayed up all night watching that tape on accents and practicing. Here." Door then said in an almost perfect British accent, "The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain."

Doc smiled. "Wonderful. Listen, I'd like you to meet Marty."

"Marty McFly," Marty said, holding out his hand. They shook.

"So you're the first, uh…" Door hesitated.

"World's first time traveler, yeah."

"I was thinking Marty would come along with us," Doc said.

Door shrugged, "Can he do a British accent?"

"What?" Marty asked.

"He'd be there just to watch the time machine," Doc said to Door.

Door shrugged again, "Fine by me. You're the one in charge, Emmett."

Doc smiled, "Well, in that case, we leave tomorrow."