[Author's Note: The previous chapter was written in September 2020. Then I got stuck and only figured out how to continue this story the other day, in February 2025. For absolutely no historical reason, viral pandemics are no longer top of mind.]
Shortly after he gave his terms to the Cullens, Marty went home.
When he woke up the next morning, something felt off. His mattress was a size larger, a full instead of a twin, with an oak frame. Wasn't this Dave's bed? And his threadbare dresser had been replaced by the slightly less threadbare one from Linda's room. Why?
Suddenly awake, he used the hall bathroom. He tried to examine it for change but realized that he'd never paid much attention to it in the first place. His razor and other toiletries were the usual brands. Was his toothbrush a different color? Or had he just worn out the last one, replaced it with another one from the multipack, and forgotten that he had done so? He couldn't remember.
He found his parents hunched over a paper on the dining table.
"Maybe we should take Biff's offer," George said. "These taxes are insane."
"Can we just hold out until Marty graduates?" Lorraine responded. "He's been in the same school district his whole life."
"What taxes?" Marty asked.
"Property taxes," George answered.
"I thought Prop 13 kept those taxes down," Marty responded.
Both of his parents looked at him with confusion. Lorraine asked, "What's Prop 13?"
"It's the first politics I remember," Marty said. "And you and Dad canvassed our neighbors to vote for it. You were so happy when it won. It limits how much California can tax your house."
"The prop 13 on the 1978 ballot?" George said. "That one lost. The only thing your mother and I campaigned for and won was the school levy."
"And even if they did tax our house, that's not worth much," Lorraine added. "It's just a small house from the fifties."
"Then what are they taxing?"
"The land, Marty, the land!"
Marty read the paper. It was a tax assessment. At the bottom, its total was what he thought their house was worth. But it was tallied differently, being the total of "land" and "improvements". Most of the total came from the land.
"What does this mean?" Marty asked.
"Well, the land is the land," George explained. "And the improvements are everything on top of it - this house, that garden shed in the backyard, anything we built on the land. They don't tax the improvements at all. But the land? Fifty percent!"
"It's five times the rate we used to pay, when house and land were bundled together and the property tax was based on that," Lorraine added.
"What changed?" Marty asked, with the dread of a new timeline.
"Prop 69," Lorraine said. "You don't remember that? Well, I guess you were too young. After Prop 13 failed, the next ballot had Prop 69. It promised to keep housing prices low, and it wouldn't tax houses at all."
"And it didn't tax houses because it taxed the land," Marty concluded.
"Damn shifty politicians!" George exclaimed. "We might have to move because we can't afford these taxes. And then Biff will buy this land and use it for another apartment complex. Because that's the only way you can afford the taxes on this land, by piling condos on top of each other."
"Where will we move?" Marty asked.
"The nearest houses with taxes that we can afford are three towns over. If we wanted to stay in Hill Valley, we'd have to take one of those new apartments by town square."
"An apartment? I don't want to share a bedroom with my brother and sister!" Marty exclaimed.
"Why would you do that?" Lorraine asked.
"Because they live with us," Marty said. As the words left his mouth, he realized that he wasn't entirely confident of that. He hadn't seen Dave and Linda this morning, only their furniture - in the wrong room! Were they alive? Did they even exist?
"No, they don't," Lorraine corrected him. "Are you okay?"
"Then where are they?" Marty asked.
"San Jose and San Diego."
"They could afford to move out and buy homes of their own?"
"Of course," Lorraine said. "Why wouldn't they?"