I never asked for this. Not any of it. I didn't ask for my life, but it's the only one I have. Only now, I'm a police officer. Well, I was, back in my own time, but now I am again, only this time as Chief of Precinct Three.
But, as you might have noticed, this is 1839, not 2019. That's a bit of an issue in my mind. I've been trying to get home for months. No luck, seeing as I don't have plutonium. Yes, plutonium. I want to build myself a flux capacitor.
A flux capacitor? Isn't that what Mousy McFly used in Back To The Fur-ture? Yes, it is. I watched those movies when I was a kit, and I thought they were hilarious. I imagined sending myself back in time, maybe helping my dad's business and keeping it from going bankrupt. I thought it was wonderful, and I was oh, so disappointed when my mother told me that such a thing was impossible.
But no, Jack told me. They are real, he knew the wolf who had invented them. They had been inspired by the movie, so the way they worked was exactly like the movie, eighty-eight mile-per-hour activation and plutonium power and all.
To get me out of here, it's going to take some math. E=mc2, that's the equation. Jack figured out that it will take 1.21 gigawatts of power to get us going, and we have neither plutonium nor the time to go find it. I know how to build a crude battery that'll hold about as much energy as an AA, so forget that equation.
1.21 gigawatts, and I think that the waterfall nearby should help. Zootopia was just experiencing its first widespread usage of electric power, and they built crude generators by the river at the bottom of the falls.
Judy loves to share random facts with me, and one of those facts was that those generators produced six volts a second, and half that power was diverted back to the station. At that rate, the station will produce nine watts a second. 1.21 gigawatts / (9 * just over thirty-one million seconds a year)...at that rate, it'll take me thirty-five years to get out of here, and that's not including the time it will take to produce the batteries.
There has to be a better way to do this….
November 30, 1929
"Mom?"
"Yes, Luke?"
"Can rabbits fly?"
"No, why….?"
"Apparently Jack thought he could. Looks like he got pretty close, too. Look."
I did, and here's what I saw:
The following is from an archived copy of the Zootopia Daily Sun, November 10, 1839
Savanna Central, Zootopia
Caroline Wilde, Reporter
A reporter, when on the job, attempts to remain as professional as possible. However, when a rabbit with a pair of wings strapped to its arms jumps off of a five-story building, it's certainly difficult.
Witness accounts all describe a white rabbit with black markings shouting "2019, here I come!" then jumping off the building. He flew for about three seconds, then fell straight down, landing directly on his face. A doctor was called and came to inspect the victim, who was discovered alive but in a critical condition. The victim, whose name is not yet known, is currently in treatment at Johns Hoppkins.
"He's one crazy rabbit, I'll give him that. Ambitious, too. I admire his efforts, I really do, I'd just like to see him get back alive, you know?"
"I do too, Judy. How's the planning going?"
"Well, I don't know what we're going to do for an explosive, but I've found enough sheet steel to start forming, only there's a bit of a problem- we don't have a form or forge."
"Let's worry about that in a little bit. As for an explosive, baking soda and vinegar will do, right?"
"Just where are we going to get those?"
"I was hoping we'd get to do a little cooking."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Tenderpaw Scout, remember? Always be prepared. That, and Nick robbed a wine shop. He was hoping to get around to drinking the stuff, but with a miniature armageddon going on, he never got the chance."
A little lightbulb went off inside my head. "And fermented wine is vinegar! Clever, clever fox!"
"I got it from you, Mom."
"Aww, thanks," I said, blushing.
"Mom, can you not gush like that? You're embarrassing me!"
"One more question. Where did you get the baking soda?"
"You know, it's a bit of a funny story."
"Do tell, Luke. I've all the time in the world."
"Well, for my fourth grade science fair, I built a baking soda volcano…"
December 11, 2016
1955 Cypress Grove Lane
6:30 AM
"Dad? Hey, Dad?"
"Zzzz….wha? What is it?"
"DAD! Wake! Up!"
"I'm up! I'm up! Don't shoot!"
"Dad, my science fair project is due tomorrow! Mrs. Shorttail is going to kill me it I don't turn anything in!"
"So, Luke, since you're so wound up about this, I take it you're worried."
"Well, why wouldn't I be? I'll flunk, I know it!"
"No, you won't, Luke, calm down. What do you want to make?"
"A baking soda volcano! What else?"
"So what's the problem?"
"Take a guess, Dad."
"You don't have anything done. Why not?"
"We're out of baking soda! That's the most important part!"
"I'll go get some, alright?"
~20 Minutes Later~
"Is this enough baking soda?"
"Dad, goodness gracious, did you buy the store's whole supply?"
"Why, yes, yes I did. I bought a few gallons of vinegar too."
"So anyways, Judy, we had enough baking soda and vinegar for several hundred volcanoes. Dad wanted to test out a few- in the kitchen, of course. The foam flooded the sink and poured all over the floor, but when I finally got everything all right, I was so happy. Then, when I took it to school, my teacher gave me a 100. I was the happiest little kit. Then, when I got home, Dad dropped a bomb on me- we were going to lose our house. The happiest fox kit was then the saddest fox kit, and he only got sadder when they had to go live on the streets.
"Dad has a master's degree in criminal justice, but no one would hire him, not even the local courts. I guess they didn't want a fox as a judge. Everything began to change, however, when he stumbled into his best friend again on the streets- as a Precinct One cop, no less. When we visited you every week, you told Dad you were working on a degree, but he had no idea you were planning to become a cop."
"How could I not have? It's been my dream for as long as I can remember." Then I reached up to my cheek, where Gideon's claws had scarred me- there was nothing.
How...Oh, great. Let me guess- in Luke's version of history, Gideon never scratched me. That was really what convinced me to become a cop, I guess, that prejudiced attitude of his just drove me further.
But how would that change in the timeline affect mine? I may have had new memories, but there's never been any physical changes.
"I bet you just forgot. Anyways, back on the baking soda topic- as soon as Dad told me we were losing our house, I ran inside and grabbed a box of baking soda and some vinegar- somewhat as a memento, I suppose. I carried them with me everywhere, but I never used them. I suppose now's the time, though."
"Just where are we going to set this up?
"Head to the basement, Mom, there's more than enough room down there."
November 17, 1839
Zootopia General Hospital
Hospital care in the twenty-first century is vastly superior to that of the nineteenth, that much is obvious. My plans were already off the rails when Jack decided to go flying. So now, instead of getting back home, to 2019, to Luke and Judy, I'm stuck here, caring for a buck without enough brains to check the wind before he jumped.
The doctors say he'll live, but with ten broken ribs, as well as both arms and legs broken, they say he could be here for months. They're doing all they can, and they have him somewhat stable. I can just hope he pulls through. As for the return to my own time, I'll see what I can do about commandeering a train. That'll be... difficult, to say the least. I can only hope that they'll get to me, even if I can't get to them.
In unrelated news, I have a new case.
December 1, 1929
"For goodness' sake, Nick, would you quit messing up the past?"
"How is cursing at him going to help anyone? Especially if he can't hear you?"
"It helps me feel better. And I wasn't cursing, Luke."
"Whatever. Can we find ourselves some actual beds? I'm getting sick of sleeping on cold marble. It makes my tail cramp up."
"Can we solve the predicament we're in first before we worry about sleeping on beds?"
"Fi-," I began, but a pounding on the door cut me off.
"Attention any and all occupants! This is the ZGB! Open the doors immediately, or we'll open them for you!"
I turned to Luke and said, "Hey, Luke? You have that system all set up?"
"Y-yes...why?" he asked.
"We're going to need it, stat!"
"We're coming in!"
"Run, Luke, run!"
We ran to the basement, making sure to leave a trail of debris as we went. We ran down the stairs, reaching our contraption barely ten seconds before our pursuers did. I slammed the capsule's door shut and latched it, just as a wolf reached us.
"You in there! Come out, or we'll shoot!"
"I don't think so!"
Over the last month, Luke and I had been salvaging scrap steel to build ourselves a quasi-rocket. We had been hoping to use it to escape 1929, but it looked like we were going to use it to escape our deaths first.
"Luke, how do you launch this thing?" I screamed.
"Like this!" he said, stomping on a pad beneath his feet. I felt the ground beneath us begin to shake, then I was knocked to the floor.
"We couldn't have had enough baking soda or vinegar, can we?"
"We didn't."
"Then how the heck? Whoa, whoa, whoa!"
"This party's going through the roof! Wha-hoo!"
"Luke! What is this thing flying on?"
Crunch!
"Well, there goes the ceiling." Then came another sickening crunch. "And the roof."
"Luke, you still haven't told me. What are we flying on?"
"Vinegar and sawdust."
"You're crazy, you know that?"
"Yes, and I also know that we're getting out of the city!"
"Just how high are we?"
"I don't know, and I don't think that I want to right about now."
"Let's just hope we hit escape velocity."
"I'm just hoping we don't die."
But what goes up must come down. In a freefall, in our case.
"Why can't things just be easy for a change?"
"Because that's not life. Speaking of that, I have a feeling ours are about to end. Can I have a hug, Mom?"
"Yes, Luke. Yes, you can." I reached out to grab him in my arms, then came a sickening, ear-splitting crack, then blackness.
19XX, Location Unknown
"You suppose they're alright, John?"
"We'll see, Marian. We'll see in the morning."
"How on Earth did they get that thing to fly? It has to be heavier than a ton."
"A better question would be how they got it into a tree."
"I think that might be self-explanatory, John."
"Mama! Papa! A rocket!"
"I know, Nicky. Just hang out inside, okay?"
"But I want to see it!"
"Nicholas Wilde, get back inside this instant!"
"Call the police about this, would you, John?"
'I'll call them right now."
"Hello, police? I'm calling to report an incident…"
"Please give us a description, as well as your address."
"There's a rocket in my backyard."
"Your address?"
"1955 Cypress Grove Lane."
"We'll be there soon, sir. Just stay calm and stay on the the line."
