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A bright flash, the screeching of metal, somebody screaming (was that him?), weightlessness, the uncomfortable tug of a seatbelt locked tight, an empty passenger seat. A lightning bolt of fear leaves him struggling for air, heart pounding at a deafening volume. This isn’t right, this isn’t right. Something has gone horribly wrong.
Martin’s eyes flew open to the first rays of morning light. Fabric clung uncomfortably to his skin, damp with cold sweat. An uneasy feeling writhed in his gut, and for a second, he wasn’t sure where he was.
The disorientation faded and he recentered himself in his bedroom. Just a dream, he told himself; a terrifying, vivid dream, but a dream nonetheless.
A quick glance at the clock proved that it was too late to go back to sleep, even if he hadn't already felt too awake to try. Martin dragged himself out of bed and into a quick shower (Civil Ordinance 9-BA— All citizens must be free of grime and odor when exiting their domiciles) before getting into uniform for the day. Casual Friday— for a certain value of 'casual'. They could wear jeans, at least.
The discomfort remained with him through his morning routine. Something just felt wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe the nightmare had rattled him worse than he’d thought, but as he left the house, things only got worse. Martin found himself uncomfortably aware of the security cameras along the streets, even though he usually gave them no consideration at all.
He turned to enter the courthouse square, and he didn’t recognize the space at all. It was like there was a picture in his mind of what the area was supposed to look like, and reality didn’t match up. The courthouse was wrong, the shops were wrong, the statue was wrong, the people were wrong. Then he blinked, and it was the same as it had always been.
Martin froze at a sign advertising the Citizen Plus program. Citizen Plus gave him the willies, but that wasn't what had grabbed his attention. Instead he was entranced by the semi-obscured face of First Citizen Brown; something about it scratched at his thoughts, disturbing them without managing to break into consciousness, like a cat begging to be let inside.
An image of Citizen Brown popped into his head unbidden. His hair was a mess, in direct violation of the city grooming codes, his clothing was garish underneath a long lab coat, and he wore an almost-manic smile. He was ranting about something, his hands gesticulating wildly, although the words themselves were beyond Martin's reach. The scene had a distinct air of camaraderie and closeness, far too much for somebody that Martin had never directly met.
“Hey! Martin!”
Martin blinked and snapped his head in the direction of the voice to see his friend, Paul, half-jogging across the plaza.
Best friend. Paul was his best friend.
(...Was he?)
Martin greeted his best friend and mentally tried to shake himself free from whatever fugue state he’d found himself in. His morning plans had been to practice with their band, so the two of them set off in the direction of their drummer's house.
“Did you hear about the UFO crash?” Paul asked, wasting no time in jumping into the latest gossip.
At the mention of a crash, Martin stiffened, but he forced himself to relax. “A UFO? What happened?”
“Apparently, something crashed into the welcome sign outside the gate yesterday. Completely wrecked it. It’s crazy,” Paul said, leaning in and lowering his voice conspiratorily. “Jen—uh, one of my friends said that she saw it when she was doing community service. I hear that First Citizen Brown is investigating it personally.”
The aborted mention of Jennifer made Martin’s chest twist, but he tried to ignore it. “Really? That sounds kinda far-fetched to me. I mean, a space ship? In Hill Valley?”
“All UFO means is that it’s unidentified, it's flying, and it's an object.” Paul shrugged. “Could be anything. I heard it almost looked like a car, except it was made out of sheet metal and about twenty feet up in the air.”
“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. Citizen Brown will probably have a press release out by tomorrow and it’ll be an aircraft or something.”
“You have so much trust in the guy,” Paul said, and then glanced up at one of the cameras from the corner of his eye. He raised his voice performatively. “As should we all.”
Martin rolled his eyes. Why shouldn’t he trust Citizen Brown? He just wanted what was best for Hill Valley, and their city was sure a lot better than some of the other places he’d read about. Sure, some of the rules were strict, but they worked just fine as long as everyone followed them.
Martin and Paul joined up with Lee and Bobby in the garage.
Martin picked up his guitar, but the smooth wood felt strange in his hands. Something about the weight was wrong, or the shape. He couldn’t fathom why; it was the same old acoustic guitar he’d been practicing on since middle school.
The latest song they’d been working on was a slow, melodic folk song, but when it came time for Martin to sing, the words were boring and trite to his ears. The whole thing just sounded bad. He stopped after only a few lines.
The rest of the band stared at him.
“What’s the deal, man? We were sounding great. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you play that good before,” Lee said.
“It doesn’t sound right. It's kinda... boring.” An idea popped up in Martin’s head and before he could think better of it, the words came out of his mouth. “How’d you guys feel about trying some rock n’ roll for a change?”
“Rock?” Paul snorted. “You want to do rock? Where’s this coming from?”
“He’s probably missing that girl.” Bobby rolled his eyes. “Wants to go all bad-boy for her.”
Paul glared at Bobby, who met his gaze. “Am I wrong?" Bonny said, "You’ve been off since you fell for that delinquent. Let’s just stick to what we’re good at. I’m not overhauling our set because Citizen Martin’s got a crush.”
Martin’s cheeks burned. It wasn’t about Jennifer— was it? He hadn’t been actively considering her, at least. Yes, he missed her, and it didn’t feel great for Bobby to be throwing her rejection in his face, but he wasn't just trying to put on a front; he genuinely wanted something different. The noise, the pure experimentation that rock n' roll encouraged… it had never seemed particularly appealing before, but today it had his interest.
“C’mon, Bobby. Give him a break,” Lee said.
“It’s fine.” Martin put down the guitar. “I’ve got to get going anyway. I have to, um, work on college applications.”
It was a transparent excuse, but Martin didn’t really care. He left the garage. The guys were great, but they weren't who he was wanting to see. He wished he could talk to… to… to somebody. About how he was feeling, about Jennifer, about how strange everything seemed this morning. Somebody who could give him a bit of advice free of judgement.
He felt like he ought to have somebody like that in his life, like maybe he did, but whenever he tried to picture that person, their face dissolved like sugar into hot water.
Halfway across town, Martin noticed that something was being towed into the delivery port at the back of the courthouse. From the distance, he could only see a bunch of sheet metal. Was this the alleged UFO?
He got closer to investigate, ending up just across the street. A river of scenes rushed through his head with dizzying intensity.
The car barreled towards them. Marty instinctively went to dodge, but a hand grabbed his sleeve, causing him to still. “Watch this, watch this!”—
Marty watched a younger Doc work on the car, hemming and hawing with interest at the machine’s parts—
Gravity pulled down on Marty’s gut like a roller coaster as the machine lifted off into the air—
They barreled down the track, almost to the ravine—
“Stop the car! This could be disastrous—”
Martin gasped, involuntarily taking a step back. Where did all that come from? It seemed so real, like he could smell the engine oil and dust, feel the wind whipping through his hair. He'd never had a particularly active imagination; certainly not this active.
He was going insane. This was it. He was beginning a slow, painful decline from functioning member of society to useless madman, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Before he could spiral too far, Martin noticed a figure staring at him from over by the car. With a chill, he recognized it as First Citizen Brown. Their eyes met from afar. Martin felt a paradoxical urge to run over there and spill everything that had been haunting him over the day. Maybe Brown knew what was going on, and he could help. If anyone did, it'd be him.
Or maybe he would be thrown into the Citizen Plus program, or worse.
Martin broke eye contact and hurried down the street.
When he was most of the way home, Martin noticed a quiet jingle-jangle noise echoing his footsteps. He turned to look and was greeted by a shaggy brown mop of fur, trotting a few paces behind him. Immediately, that made him nervous— if anyone thought the dog was his, then he’d be in for a violation of ordinance 357-K. He hadn’t gotten a demerit before, and he wasn't trying to break that streak any time soon.
“Shoo!” Martin tried to wave the dog away, but the creature just looked up at him with intelligent eyes and continued towards him. “Go on!”
The dog stopped at his feet and sat down, staring at Martin with a leisurely tail wag. He couldn’t deny the thing was pretty cute, even if he knew that their association risked getting him in a world of trouble. Martin glanced at the nearest squawk box, just down the road. He should call an officer, right? The dog ought to be returned to the kennel, however it had gotten out in the first place.
Martin leaned down and scratched the dog’s neck, who leaned into the touch, and his fingers found a simple leather collar. He inspected the tag attached to it. EINSTEIN, it said, with a small engraving of an atom just below.
“Einstein, huh?” Martin said, and the dog thumped its tail on the concrete. “It suits you.”
There was a phone number on the back, and Martin wondered who would be stupid enough to put that on something so egregiously against city ordinances. Still, the animal tugged at his heartstrings, resonating to ease the wrongness that had settled in his chest. In startling clarity, he pictured the dog at the end of a leash that he was holding, sniffing the pole of a street sign that, as far as Martin could remember, didn’t exist. Maybe if he could get home without being busted, he could call the dog’s owner and they could get him back. It was risky, but Martin couldn’t bring himself to turn Einstein in. Not if there was somebody that loved him.
Martin glanced upward. There were fewer cameras in the residential areas, so if he was sneaky, he could make it home without being spotted.
“C’mon, boy.”
Martin hoisted the dog in through his window. He'd worried that Einstein wouldn't be comfortable being lifted, but he needn't have; the dog was surprisingly pliant. Heavy, but pliant.
Pulling himself through the window, Martin watched Einstein sniff around the corners of the room. Martin could count the number of dogs he'd seen on one hand, and none of them were scruffy mutts like this. One could apply for a permit to keep a dog, as long as it was kept well-groomed, well-trained, and out of public, but the list of acceptable breeds was short, and most of them were half Einstein’s size. Yet somehow, Martin felt like he'd seen him before.
Martin sat on the bed and grabbed the phone's handset to dial the number on Einstein’s battered silver tag. Immediately, a voice stated that the number was out of service. The phone hadn't even rung.
His gut twisted. Now what? He couldn’t keep Einstein in his room for long, and he didn’t want to doom the dog to spending the rest of his life in the kennel. He supposed that maybe he could call Dave or Linda, and they might come pick Einstein up, take him to a shelter in a nearby city where he could get adopted by a family. But, even assuming he convinced one of them, he’d have to get Einstein past the gates, which were the most closely monitored parts of the city.
Einstein jumped up on the bed and laid down next to Martin, prodding his hand with a cold nose. Martin rubbed the dog’s head and fell back into his pillows. He just needed time to think…
“Doc?” Marty returned the key to its place under the mat and entered the garage. Doc was fiddling with a piece of wiring, crouched down next to the amp. He gaped at the size of the thing— it was enormous! Marty had no idea Doc was going to take it this far, but he certainly wasn't complaining.
“Good morning, Marty! I’ve made great progress on your amplifier.” Doc wiped off his hands on his pants and stood back to inspect his work. “It should be ready in time for your next gig.”
“We don’t have any gigs,” Marty said.
“But you will soon!” Doc looked at him with that glimmer in his eye, like he saw everything that Marty was and everything he could be, and he could barely contain his pride. “I guarantee it. You’re still trying out for the school dance next week, correct?”
“Yeah— or well, I mean…” Marty trailed off. “I dunno, I want to, but what if they don’t like us?”
“Don’t worry about that right now, Marty. You’re an extremely talented young man, and you’ve done a great deal of practice. If they don’t like you, that’s a reflection on them, not you.” Doc came over and rested a hand on Marty’s shoulder. “It’s like I always tell you—”
“I can do anything if I put my mind to it. I know, Doc.” Marty grinned up at his friend. “Thanks.”
Marty and Jennifer ran down the street, tears in their eyes from laughter.
“Did you see his face?” Jennifer asked. “Biff didn’t know what hit him!”
“And hopefully he never will! If my old man finds out I egged Biff Tannen, he’ll— well, he won’t do anything, but my mom will kill me.” The two of them slowed down as they approached the park, cutting off the path to head into the trees. “Assuming Biff doesn’t do it first.”
“Oh, come on, Marty, he didn’t see us.” Jennifer stopped to lean her back against a tree, her breathing heavy from the exertion.
“Jennifer Parker, you’re going to be the death of me.” Marty stopped in front of her, also trying to catch his breath. He rested one hand on the tree over Jennifer’s shoulder. For a second, the two stared at each other, eyes shining and warm, adrenaline and dopamine fizzing through their veins.
Marty leaned in. Jennifer gave him a sly smile, and returned the favor. Their lips met for the first time, and all was right in the world.
Martin was awakened by a cacophony of banging and barking and somebody shouting his name. He jolted up in bed, his heart pounding, and for the second time that day it took him too long to recognize his own room. Einstein was standing over him, barking at the door with hackles raised.
“Jeez! Does he have a dog?” An unfamiliar voice said from the other side of the door.
“He shouldn’t! Martin would never; he’s a good kid.” That was his father. “I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding—”
The door opened, and a police officer stepped into the room. His gaze landed on Martin and Einstein, who continued his deep woofing. Martin could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he was getting ready to lunge, so he grabbed the dog’s collar to hold him back. Einstein settled down to a growl.
“Martin?” His dad peeked in the room. “Why do you have an animal in here?”
“Never mind that,” the officer said, eyeing Einstein warily. “We can sort out the demerits later. I’m on direct orders from First Citizen Brown. Citizen Martin McFly, you’re coming with me.”
“Citizen Brown?” Martin asked, his brain still struggling to parse the chaos that roused him from his nap. “What does Citizen Brown want with me?”
Einstein was muzzled and thrown in the back of the police car. Martin gave him an apologetic look as he circled around the electric vehicle to the passenger seat. He wasn’t being detained, at least; the officer had made that much clear, although he didn’t elaborate on why he was summoned by Citizen Brown in the first place. Martin couldn’t wrap his head around it. Citizen Brown was a busy man; the wait to get a meeting with him was years long. What could be so important about Martin that Brown needed to see him immediately?
He knows you’re going crazy, Martin thought, despite his best efforts to repress it. How on Earth would he know that? He couldn’t know about the dreams, the feelings, the visions. Citizen Brown had eyes everywhere, but he couldn’t see into Martin’s head.
Could he?
They pulled into the courthouse’s garage, and another person arrived to cart Einstein off to the kennel. Einstein pulled towards Martin, not wanting to leave the car, and Martin’s heart twisted in sympathy. He didn’t want to see Einstein go, either. Somehow, the unfamiliar canine felt more right than everything else that Martin had seen that day.
The officer guided Martin through long, empty halls and up a staircase until they arrived at a large, wooden door. He gave a ‘go in’ gesture.
Martin pushed open the heavy door, peeking inside. His palms sweat, and his teeth met the inside of his mouth. The room was dark, with few lights except for what was beaming in through the sheer clock face along the back wall. Stacks of TVs sat on either side of it.
“Come in, Citizen,” Citizen Brown’s voice called out. He stood from his chair, facing the clock. “Martin McFly, age 18. Resident of sector L. Father George, Mother Lorraine. President of the Junior Brown Brigade. Recipient of a full-ride scholarship to Strickland College. Winner of the Courthouse Challenge Deportment Award. Zero demerits… until today, when you were found in the company of an unsanctioned canine.”
Martin stopped in front of the desk. Citizen Brown turned towards him, and Martin was struck by how wrong he looked. He wasn’t supposed to look like that, all clean-cut and corporate, frown lines engraved canyon-deep into his skin.
Doc fell to the ground, lab coat swishing around him, spasming with the force of the bullets hitting his chest. Gunfire echoed in Marty’s ears, and he felt a yell tear itself out of his chest without conscious thought. His heart pounded rapidly and with such strength that he felt it would explode. The barrel of the gun turned on him.
Reality snapped back into place, and Martin found himself in the middle of a series of hurried steps backwards. From the look on Citizen Brown’s face, he wasn’t the only one unsettled— the man was pale, mouth slightly open in fright, his eyes bugging out from his head.
“What did you see?” Citizen Brown demanded, quietly at first, near whispering, and then he raised his voice. “Marty, what did you see?”
Marty?
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Martin stuttered, forcing his breathing under control. “I just, um, I’m just nervous, that’s all. To see you. Since we’ve never met before, and you're...”
The lie felt bitter coming off his tongue.
"Right," Citizen Brown said, giving him a skeptical look, and gestured for him to sit.
“So, uh, why am I here, then?” Martin settled into a chair in front of the desk, and Citizen Brown followed suit on the other side.
A wrinkle formed between Brown’s eyebrows. “I'm afraid it's complicated. Yesterday, a very unusual vehicle collided with the Hill Valley welcome sign at the south gate. The machine was badly damaged, but enough remained intact for me to ascertain its purpose.”
“Okay, but why me? I didn’t have anything to do with that, I swear!” Martin said.
“I believe you; my intention in summoning you was not to levy accusations. You see, the implications of this discovery are potentially world-shattering, yet I find myself unwilling to share the information with anyone, even my beloved wife, Edna. I felt on an instinctual level that this was information that must not be shared. That was, of course, until I saw you earlier this day.”
“Me?”
Citizen Brown nodded. “It’s just as unusual to me, believe me, but I felt absolutely certain that I had to speak to you about this. It seems preposterous to feel more trust towards an unfamiliar teenager than my life partner of fifty years, but nonetheless it is the truth.”
Martin was aware he should be concerned by this notion, or even a bit creeped out, but somehow it made sense. After the initial rush of adrenaline faded, he had relaxed in Citizen Brown’s presence. It felt comfortable. Familiar.
“So what is it?” Martin said, leaning forwards in his chair.
“It is, and I am aware how this may sound, a time machine.” Citizen Brown steepled his fingers, watching Martin’s reaction intently.
“A time machine? I dunno, Doc, that sounds a bit… outlandish.”
“I understand that, however—” Brown froze mid-sentence. “What did you just call me?”
“What?” Martin hadn’t thought he'd called Brown anything; he certainly hadn't intended to. He tried to recall the shape of his last words, but nothing stood out. “I didn’t think I— at least I didn’t mean to— I hope I didn’t offend you, uh... sir.”
Citizen Brown got a funny look on his face. “I’m not offended. You called me ‘Doc’. Not the kind of thing you call a person you hardly know, let alone somebody who is unequivocally not a doctor.”
Why had he called him that? The moniker fit him perfectly, but it seemed to come out of nowhere.
“I don’t know, sir. It just slipped out, I guess. I’m sorry.”
“Stop calling me ‘sir’.” Brown said, shifting uncomfortably. “I’d much rather you call me ‘doc’ than ‘sir’. Now, I have to ask you, and I implore that you tell me the truth: are you having odd dreams? Memories that cannot be? A feeling that all is not right with the world?”
Martin considered for a moment that this could be a trap. He was still at risk of being sent to Citizen Plus, and as much as he trusted Citizen Brown (and had even before things went topsy-turvy), that program gave him the creeps. But surely if that was the case, his questions wouldn’t be so specific?
He nodded.
“Can you tell me more?
Martin took a deep breath. “I keep seeing Hill Valley, but everything is different. It’s a little bit rougher and less regimented. There aren’t as many civil ordinances. The people are different, too. You, me, my parents… Jennifer. In particular, you’re like some sort of mad scientist. And you built…”
“A time machine. Yes. And I lived out of my garage, didn't I? I’m married to a different woman? I went to the future and the Old West, and you followed me there?”
Brown’s words sparked more memories, not quite as all consuming as the visions he’d had earlier. More like he was recalling moments from his own life, in this lifetime. “Yes, yes! That’s all true!”
“Absolutely fascinating. Something must have happened to change that— I think I remember you, now, in the 1930s. Before I met Edna… I think that was you, at least. But here, I never made the time machine, and that means— Great Scott!” Brown jumped up, his eyes wide. “This timeline isn’t stable! Marty, we have to do something!”
“What do you mean?” Martin asked, joining him on his feet.
Brown came around the desk and grabbed Marty by the shoulders. “This timeline wouldn’t exist without the time machine, but since I didn’t make the time machine, it’s going to create a paradox! All of space-time could collapse in on itself, destroying the entire universe!”
Martin gaped. “The whole universe? Doc, can you stop it?”
“If we act fast, I believe it can be done, but not without considerable personal sacrifice. Still, we have no other choice. We have to go back and stop this timeline from ever happening!” Brown rushed towards the doors. “C’mon! We have to fix the time machine!”
The two of them ran down the halls, footsteps echoing through the quiet building. Despite the looming threat, Marty couldn’t help but feel that this, chasing after Doc to fix a problem they had ostensibly caused in the first place, was right.