Back to the Future Part II (9 page)

Well, Fred guessed, he was glad they found the car again. The taxi driver had thought the old guy in the back was going to have a heart attack when he had stopped the cab outside Hilldale. Fred didn t really like to go into this kind of neighbourhood, especially after dark. But. with a choice of getting a fare, or having a dead guy in his back seat, Fred had decided to make an exception in this case, and had taken the cab into Hilldale.

Luckly for the old guy's continuing health, the DeLorean hadn't gotten very far ahead. Fred pulled up next to it as the old guy shouted 'You can let me off here!'

Fred noticed that the kid had disappeared. Maybe the teenager had really been doing something to his shoes after all.

The taxi driver glanced at the meter.

‘That’ll be 174.40.’

The parrot on his shoulder squawked. ‘174.50!’

Fred glanced back at the meter. Priscilla was right.

‘Oh yeah,’ he amended. ‘174.50. And I’d be careful in this neighbourhood, old timer.’

But the old guy didn’t want to listen. He hastily pressed his thumb to the payment plate, then scrambled from the cab. He moved with amazing speed for somebody his age as he hobbled with the aid of his cane toward the DeLorean, a silver bag clutched in his free hand.

He walked straight to the car, opened the door, and climbed inside.

What was the old guy doing? Was that his car? Fred decided he didn’t want to know. He turned the cab around and headed out of Hilldale.

Priscilla squawked chidingly in his ear. and Fred had to agree.

After all this time, why hadn’t he learned to listen to his parrot?

He wished his wife would get home. She 
knew
 Marty’s mother and father were going to be here tonight, but she was still off on one of her little errands. Nump! If both their teenaged children could get home in time for the grandparents, was it too much to ask for their mother to show up, too?

In the meantime, Marty’s mother was bustling around the food processors, getting everything ready for dinner. Grandma Lorraine always took over like this whenever Jennifer wasn’t here, which seemed to happen far too often recently. Where, Marty wondered, had he and Jennifer gone wrong?

Grandma Lorraine stuck one of those expandable pizzas in the Hydrator - a real four-incher! That was one thing you could say about Marty McFly Senior’s parents: They weren’t cheap.

so I thought,’ she continued cheerily as she distributed the plates, ‘it would be nice if we threw a little party for him.’

The Hydrator beeped. His mother bustled happily back to the machine, pulling the now fifteen-inch pizza free. And she was nice enough not to mention that it had taken the Hydrator a full twelve-second cycle to finish their dinner - Marty wished he could afford one of those new six-second models.

But. as nice as his mother was, there were still a few things that she just couldn't be realistic about. Like this party she kept going on about.

'Mom.' Marty Senior replied patiently 'before we throw a party for Uncle Joey, let's see if he makes parole.'

'
Fumble!’ Junior screamed. The readout on his glasses read ESPN-Ch 211-D. He must be watching the Spacers/Bears game.

Grandma Lorraine brought the steaming pizza to the table.

'George.’ she added gently, ‘rotate your axis, please. It’s not good for your digestion to eat while you’re inverted.’

Marty’s father obediently pushed a button by his wrist. The ortho rig whirred into action, turning him sideways.

'I can’t believe it!' Junior yelled.

It must be a good game. The Bears were finally showing the rest of the IFL that they were no longer has-beens. They were having their best season in almost thirty years! Marty Senior half-wished he could watch the game himself.

Grandma Lorraine sat down at the table. The pizza looked great. They d have a real family dinner for a change, Marty thought, even though Jennifer 
still
 wasn't home.

Pass the kelp tea. please.' Marty asked his daughter.

Marlene pouted behind her own set of vidglasses. No. she whined. 'I don’t want to, so nump off!’

Take him out of the game! ’ Junior pounded his fists on 
the table.

'Marlene!' Grandma Lorraine reprimanded sharply. ‘Don’t talk to your father like that!’

‘Grandma!’ Marlene barked, pointing at the word and number display on her vidglasses. ‘I’m on the phone, OK?’ Marty’s daughter looked away, long-suffering, as if no teenager should ever have to put up with this sort of thing.

Somebody’s beeper started to chatter as red lights went off on both of the kid’s vidglasses. Marty looked down at the flashing light in his pocket.

It was his beeper.

‘Dad!’ Junior and Marlene yelled together. Telephone! It’s Needles!’

Marty stood up and flipped off his signal. Suddenly his throat was very dry. He felt like everybody at the dinner table was watching him - even the kids behind their vidglasses. If this call was what he thought it was, he’d need a little privacy.

‘I’ll take it in the den.’ He walked from the room, sliding the door closed behind him.

He paused a minute as he passed the mirror to straighten his ties and make sure his hair was combed. This was a serious decision he had to make. It might change his whole future - for the better, Marty hoped. Maybe he could make things up to Jennifer, give her all those things she should have gotten. If only this deal were a little more straightforward - Marty stopped himself with a final check in the mirror. When Needles talked with him on the vidphone, he wanted to look his best.

He walked quickly in front of the video screen.

What was that? He blinked, and shook his head.

For a second there, he thought he had seen somethine out of the corner of his eye. In fact, he could have sworn that Jennifer had been peeking around the edge of the bathroom door. He was so nervous, he must be imagining things.

He picked up the remote control and banished the art channel painting to the corner of the screen.

Needles smiled his gap-toothed grin as his head and shoulders filled the rest of the video display and his identification code flashed on: NEEDLES, DOUGLAS J. ADDRESS: 88 ORIOLE RD. A6TB-94. That was his home address; not that Needles was ever home. From the row of vidmemos behind him, Marty could tell the other man was still at his station at work. Sometimes Marty wondered if Needles ever left the office.

‘Hey, the Big M!’ Needles began boisterously. ’How’s it hangin’, McFly?’

‘Hey, Needles,' Marty replied, trying not to sound nervous.

Needles didn't seem to notice. Instead, he launched quickly into exactly what Marty had to do if their little plan was going to work. Somehow, whenever Needles explained this sort of thing - in all the years they had known each other, ever since high school -it always sounded so easy.

So what do you say, Marty?' he finished breezily, once more flashing the grin that had gotten Needles to a position in the organization that Marty could never hope to reach.

Marty opened his mouth, but no noise came out. Despite all the things he wanted, he was having a real hard time saying yes.

'I - he managed at last. ‘Uh - '

'McFly!' Needles insisted. ‘What are you afraid of? If this things works, it'll solve all your financial problems.'

'And if it doesn't work, I could get fired!' Marty retorted, finding his voice at last. There was one thing his co-worker forgot to mention, something Marty had to get out in the open. ‘It’s 
illegal.
 Needles.’

Marty had another thought. Needles was calling from the office. Everybody knew the way their boss was with personal calls!

What if “the Jits” is monitoring?’ Marty asked, his voice suddenly hushed.

Needles looked Marty straight in the screen.

‘ “The Jits” will never find out. Come on, just stick your card in the slot and I’ll handle it. Unless you want everyone in the division to think you’re’- Needles paused ominously -‘chicken.’

Chicken?

The screen suddenly appeared to turn red before Marty’s eyes. Blood rushed in his ears; his heart jack-hammered in his chest.

Chicken?

He spat out the words from between clenched teeth:

‘Nobody calls me chicken!'

Needles nodded curtly, his grin even broader than before.

‘All right,’ he said to Marty. ‘Prove it.’

That was it! He’d show Needles. He’d show Jennifer and his kids and his parents and everybody who ever thought he was a failure. He’d show everybody! He whipped out his wallet and pulled free his card.

‘Here,’ he almost shouted, plugging his card into the slot in his brief-case as the lights along the side flashed his personal code. ‘Scan it! I’m in.’

Needles did just that. Marty heard a quick series of electronic tones as his bar codes were recorded on the deal. Thanks. McFly,’ Needles said, the easy grin once again in place. ‘See you at the plant tomorrow.'

Needles cut the connection. The screen went blank.

Marty took a deep breath. Well, that was that. He hadn’t really meant to go along - there were all these complications that the rest of the guys had sort of ignored. But Needles had called him chicken - nobody called him chicken! - and he was in.

His card had been scanned and put on record. There was no turning back - and maybe Needles was right -maybe his future road was paved with gold.

He pressed the remote, flipping the art channel so that it once again filled the screen. Marty felt exhausted. All he wanted to do now was get back into the other room and finish his dinner.

He turned away from the video screen.

‘McFly!’ a voice rumbled behind him.

It was the last voice in the world Marty wanted to hear. This had to be coincidence. Didn’t it?

He turned back to the screen and the full-sized image of his glowering boss.

‘Mr Fujitsu, sir!’ Marty did his best to smile. Good evening, sir!’

The boss stared at Marty for a moment; the large man was seething silently. Maybe it was the formal dress kimono that his boss liked to wear in the evenings, but whenever Fujitsu got like this, he always reminded Marty of a meditating Samurai warrior just before he went on a killing rampage.

Marty realised his throat had gone dry all over again.

'McFly,’ Fujitsu said slowly and all-too-clearly, ‘I was monitoring that scan you just interfaced. You're terminated!’

No! His boss couldn't mean that!

‘Terminated?’ Marty protested. ‘But sir! It wasn't my idea! Needles was behind it!’ Surely, his boss could see the truth in that.

‘And you co-operated,’ Fujitsu continued, unswayed by Marty's argument. ‘It was illegal, and you knew it.’ The boss’s voice was growing quieter. It was always worse when an angry Fujitsu got quiet. Marty could almost feel that samurai sword slicing through his future.

‘You’re fired, McFly,’ Fujitsu concluded calmly. ‘Goodbye.’

Fired? Just like that?

‘But sir -’ Marty began rapidly. It wasn’t his fault. There had to be some way to get the boss to see that. Needles had called Marty chicken! 
Nobody
 called Marty chicken!

‘McFly!’ Fujitsu cut him off abruptly. ‘Read my fax!’ The boss's face disappeared from the screen, replaced by a piece of company stationery, addressed to Marty McFly Senior. Besides the address, and Fujitsu's signature on the bottom, there were only two words on that piece of paper:

YOU'RE FIRED!

Fired?

Marty could hear the soft whir of the fax unit on the other side of the den as it printed out the facsimile copy of the message on the screen.

And Fujitsu was gone. He had broken the connection - the art channel once again filled the screen.

Marty could almost feel the sword in his heart. His future was over.

* * *

Jennifer jumped as a machine whirred by her elbow.

She glanced over at the piece of paper the machine spat out, a piece of paper filled mostly with two very large words:

YOU’RE FIRED!

Jennifer picked up the sheet of paper. This must be the ‘fax' that the muscular Japanese fellow had been talking about on the TV screen. And it printed this paper in the bathroom? Jennifer wondered if there were machines like this in every room of the house.

‘Jennifer!’

She jumped all over again as the voice whispered her name behind her. She crumpled the paper and thrust it in her pocket, whirling around to see who had called her.

There, looking in the bathroom window, was Doc Brown!

Doc Brown? Jennifer had never been so happy to see a scientist in her entire life!

‘Go out the front door!' Doc Brown whispered urgently. ‘I’ll meet you there!’

Jennifer frowned, her happiness once again drowned in a sea of confusion. Out the front door? But, how could she get out the front door?

‘It won’t open!’ she complained. ‘There’s no doorknob!’

Doc nodded as if it was only now that he understood.

Press your thumb to the plate!’ he explained.

Oh. Jennifer remembered that funny looking plate at the side of the front door. So that’s how it worked.

But that meant she could finally get out ot here.

Jennifer nodded to Doc. She stepped across the bathroom and looked out through the door she had entered. There was no one in either of the rooms she could see. She pushed opened the bathroom door and crept as quietly as she could toward the front door.

She heard Grandma Lorraine loudly complaining behind her:

‘Marty, what’s the meaning of this fax?’

‘Believe me. Mom, it wasn’t my fault,' Marty Senior explained, a slight whine to his voice. ‘I just always seem to get a raw deal on everything!’

At least, Jennifer hoped, if the family was busy arguing, they wouldn’t even look her way as she snuck out of the house. Now. all she had to do was find the - what had Doc Brown called it? - oh yeah, the thumb plate.

There, next to the front door, was another fax machine, with another paper saying ‘YOU’RE FIRED!’ Jennifer realised they really did have these machines all over the house. And right beyond the machine was the metal plate she was looking for.