Willie's Redneck Time Machine

by John Luke Robertson

He nods. You can tell he’s still trying to figure out who you are, since that’s exactly what you’d do.

  INXS starts to play.

  “Man, I love these guys,” you tell him.

  “Yeah, so do I.”

  This is weird.

  You have the opportunity to tell yourself anything. But you’ve already said enough.

  “Oh, one more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “One day you’ll be able to rock a beard like this one. And don’t let anybody fool you—people fear the beards.”

  You both go back into the gym, where you find John Luke being cornered by another girl: Jill Baxter.

  A girl who was in love with you and started stalking you for a while.

  “Let’s go, John Luke.”

  “This is Willie Robertson,” Jill says in a hands-off-he’s-mine tone.

  “This is my son, whom I will kill for if necessary,” you say.

  It’s true—not that you’re going to harm her. But sometimes you just need to state the obvious to those who aren’t so smart.

  Jill gives you a snotty look, but she also appears to be terrified of you. She disappears in the crowd.

  “That girl was crazy,” John Luke said.

  “Sometimes the best thing you can do when a girl tells you she likes you is run. Run away as fast as you can.”

  So that’s what both of you do.

  Go here.

  1863

  “SIR,” YOU SAY, “it’s an honor and a privilege to meet you, but my idiot brother does not know what he’s doing.”

  General Stonewall Jackson stands in front of his horse while Jase shakes his head next to you.

  “You’re handing them the keys to the war,” Jase says.

  “Have you forgotten everything about the Civil War? Do I really need to explain why you can’t just kidnap Stonewall Jackson?” You change your tone before speaking to Jackson again. “We really don’t mean you any harm, sir.”

  The general does not look amused or impressed.

  Jase appears to have a few more things to share with him. “Maybe you’ll just want to be a little careful, especially when it comes to your—”

  “Jase. Shut up.”

  You’re about to drag Jase back to the time machine, but then you remember something.

  Korie’s birthday present.

  “Oh, sir, can I ask one favor?”

  Soon you’re pulling Jase back into the outhouse while the completely confused and confounded general stares at both of you.

  He’s just waiting to tell his men about us so they can take us away.

  But the time machine will be gone before that.

  Once the door closes, you swat Jase on the back of his head.

  “What’s that for?” he asks.

  “For being an idiot.”

  “I was trying to help General Stonewall Jackson.”

  “Don’t you know the first rule about time travel?” you ask.

  “Save Stonewall Jackson?”

  “You don’t go and try to kill Hitler.”

  Jase just shakes his head and puts his cap back on. “You got the wrong war.”

  “Avoid paradoxes.”

  Suddenly you hear knocking at the door.

  “Do you know how to get back?” you ask Jase.

  “There’s a way to program this thing, you know. The redheaded man told me. It’s right over here.”

  The knocking escalates to banging. They might be able to get through the door if you don’t escape soon.

  “Take us back home,” you command Jase.

  “But what about trying something else out?”

  “Home. Today. I still have to find John Luke.”

  Does Jase get you both back home in time for Korie’s birthday party? Go here.

  Does Jase decide to take you somewhere else? Go here.

  2319

  YOU STEP OUTSIDE.

  Really, do you need to be told the rest?

  Seriously—there’s an end-of-the-world sort of war going on outside your time machine, and you still step foot outside? Even after being warned?

  And sure enough, you last as long as it takes to read this page.

  These are your last words.

  “Oh, man, I—”

  Then . . .

  BOOM!

  POW!

  Ow!

  Oh no.

  And you’re back in the Duck Commander warehouse, your phone ringing on and on: “Oops! . . . I did it again.”

  THE TRAGIC END

  Start over.

  Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

  UNKNOWN YEAR

  YOU JOIN JASE at the controls, determined to find a way home. Next to the screen displaying the Duck and Buck choices, you notice a reset button. You press it before Jase can object, and the screen changes. Now it displays the numbers 1, 2, 3, and 4. You try to get the screen to show time and place options, but you eventually give up and ask Jase how to get there.

  “I don’t know what this screen does,” Jase says.

  He presses 4 on the screen.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Why not?”

  The shaking and spinning motion begins. You hang on to a chair that’s fixed in place while the machine continues to tremble for a few moments. Then it stops.

  “Oh, boy,” you say.

  “This is fun,” John Luke says.

  “I hope this is better than the Civil War,” you tell Jase.

  “There’s no way to know now that you overrode the system.”

  “I was just trying to send us home!”

  “Well, you get to go first.”

  “You know we’re both still dressed as Confederate soldiers,” you say.

  Jase nods. “There’s an intervention chamber in the back.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “You can explain your issue to the main computer, and many times it fixes the problem. In this case, we’ll say we need our old clothes back.”

  Sure enough, minutes later you’re wearing your old clothes once more. They appeared in a box at the back of the intervention chamber, just as Jase suggested they would.

  “Now we don’t stand out as much,” you say.

  John Luke looks at both of you and laughs.

  “What?” you ask.

  “Come on,” Jase says. “You get out first.”

  You stare at them. “Who knows what story this might drop us into.”

  Then you step through the doorway.

  Go to “Double Vision” . . . in Jase & the Deadliest Hunt.

  2319

  “THAT HIT ON THE HEAD made me forget my vital link and quadrant,” you say. “My brain feels foggy.”

  “How did you get to the fields?”

  “The fields. Oh yes, those. I just . . . I don’t know. It’s hazy.”

  “You should have been killed sneaking past the security barriers.”

  Your brain really is a bit foggy, and now you’re being forced to make up a story.

  “I’m not a threat,” you say. “I just—I’m not sure how I got to the fields, but I was—I wasn’t going after anyone.”

  “You had a system 5, class 20 high-velocity batter shatter in your possession. How did you get one of those?”

  “You call that rifle a batter shatter?” You can’t help but laugh, and the woman doesn’t seem to like your laughing.

  “I got it for a birthday present,” you say.

  “I know of people like you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re one of them. The rebels. The ones battling against the system.”

  Finally you start to understand. “Yes, I get it.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen the movies. This is a dystopian society. But that’s okay. I’m fine with dystopia. Totally fine.”

  “Do you even know what that means?”

  You nod. “Yeah. It’s like—a genre, right? The bad government—I mean, the on
e that some people think is bad. But I’m sure it’s good.”

  The woman slides out what looks to be some kind of CD and puts it in her palm. It begins to hover, and she speaks into it.

  “This is a priority level 7 case with a threat level of 0 percent. Subject with mental impairment and a loss of the CDG component.”

  You look around the confined room you’re in.

  Priority level 7?

  Zero percent chance of being a threat?

  Mental impairment?

  Loss of the CDG component? Whatever that means.

  “What is CDG again?”

  The woman smiles. “That’s funny. I do like your humor. It’s a lost art, I believe.”

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  “You will be let go. You’re obviously not a rebel soldier. We will clean you up and then process you before leaving.”

  “Cleaning up” means they shave you. All of you. Your beard. Your head. Your body.

  You had more hair when you were born.

  You feel naked even after they give you the loose white pants and white shirt to wear. You feel like you’re in a kung fu movie.

  Then they put you out in the elements—on some crowded street that’s dark and rainy and resembles the set of Blade Runner.

  You have absolutely no idea how to get back to the time machine.

  You walk down a couple of blocks, your odd plastic shoes feeling wrong against your bare feet. The raindrops on your bald head make you cold.

  As you are about to turn down another street, a figure in a recessed doorway grabs you. Before you strike back at the assailant, you see the glasses.

  It’s Si.

  “Is that you, Willie?”

  “Yeah. Of course it is! What are you talking about?”

  “It’s just been a while since—well, since I’ve seen your face. And your head.”

  You have to touch your face before remembering you’re as smooth as a newborn baby.

  “Quick, we don’t have much time,” Uncle Si tells you. “We must do something, but you’re not going to like it.”

  You notice Uncle Si is in black-and-gray battle gear, including a black military cap with a red fist logo. He’s carrying a gun on his hip and looks tanned and tough.

  “What’s happened to you? Where have you been, Uncle Si?”

  “I’m leading a revolution, man. It’s the sixties once again, and I’m John Lennon! I’m just looking for Yoko.”

  It might be the future, but Uncle Si is still crazy.

  “Look, no time to talk,” he says. “I gotta open up your skull.” He pulls out what appears to be a pen from his belt.

  “What is that?” you ask.

  “They call it a Split Pea. It opens your skull and takes out the implants they’ve stuck in your brain.”

  He presses on it, and two long metal spikes come out of the end, then snap a foot apart.

  “And you want to stick that thing . . . in my head?”

  “Yes. Right now. Hurry.”

  Do you allow Uncle Si to crack open your skull with the Split Pea? Go here.

  Do you say no but agree to join Uncle Si, whatever he’s doing? Go here.

  A LONG, LONG TIME AGO

  WHEN THE MACHINE touches down with a jolt, you step out and feel the hot sun beating down on you. At least you know John Luke, Jase, and Si weren’t pranking you. The question now is where the time machine brought you and whether your family members are around here somewhere too. This must be a faraway place. It doesn’t look anything like West Monroe. Or even like America, for that matter.

  You call out for Phil several times, but he’s not around. For all you know, he could be in a totally different year. You couldn’t find a time machine instruction manual inside and had no idea how to direct the machine.

  You appear to be in a desert of some kind, walking on a dirt road that looks frequently traveled, but not by cars. You only see footprints and animal prints, from horses and other creatures you can’t determine.

  Maybe this is a different continent or something.

  Just then, a figure in a long black robe approaches you. He’s wearing a hood, and you wonder if it’s Phil. But when he pulls off the hood, you recognize him instantly.

  “Hey, aren’t you O—?”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” the old man with white hair and a beard says. “We don’t want to cause any issues.”

  It’s totally him. Or someone who looks like him.

  “What issues?” you ask.

  “Licensing issues.”

  You shake your head, not understanding. “Am I on a movie set?”

  “No. Please. Listen to me now. You were meant to meet someone in the time machine, someone who would have explained the most important element of time travel—the level 34-B bicode. But he didn’t arrive on schedule, so you have no way of knowing.” The man takes a deep breath. “The bicode ensures that you can’t die in other places and times. Anything can happen . . . but if you die, you’ll just find yourself back where you started.”

  “Oh . . . uh, that’s great.” But you don’t plan to die anytime soon, for fake or for real. You glance around and finally get where you are. “Is this the planet of Tat—?”

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts. “Please. You must choose right this instant. Will you go back to your time machine or won’t you?”

  You consider it for a minute.

  “What is your decision?”

  “Will you tell me where to go?” you ask.

  He nods.

  If you choose to go back to the time machine, go here.

  And if you decide to stay out here where something bad is obviously going to happen, go here.

  “That’s certainly a difficult choice.”

  2319

  HOW CAN YOU NOT STAY and help Si fight this war? Maybe you’ll be gone for a few weeks, maybe longer. But this is for a noble cause. People’s lives are in danger. The future is in your hands.

  A week into the war, you lose your left arm. Yes, this is a horrible thing. But it’s the future, so they simply give you a new arm. And the cool thing is that this arm is stronger and better than your old one. It can pulverize rocks while at the same time allowing you to watch a movie on your palm.

  This is the start of the fog.

  The fog begins to seep inside your thoughts.

  Every now and then, you have dreams or nightmares of circuitry and wiring and computer data. You hear strange computerized voices that remind you of Siri. You don’t feel so right with your body.

  Perhaps it’s being in the future. Perhaps it’s your synthetic arm.

  Then you lose your leg in battle and the same thing happens.

  Then you lose an ear and they give you a new one.

  Little by little, you start becoming one of them. A machine.

  And little by little, the person you once were goes away.

  The day comes when you win the war. But it’s been years. Uncle Si has been in an institution ever since losing the Tupperware cups his mother sent him when he was in Vietnam. You’ve forgotten where you’re from and how you got here. You don’t feel like yourself at all. And that’s because half of you really isn’t you.

  You live out the rest of your life in the future. Cyborg Willie: half machine.

  And then, one day, when you finally take your last breath—and you utter a barely heard quack before dying—you’re blasted into the past.

  You find yourself back in West Monroe, back in the present day, back as your former self, back at Duck Commander.

  And when the Britney Spears ringtone comes on, you’ve never been more joyful to hear that sweet, precious, beautiful song—“Oops! . . . I Did It Again.” ’Cause it means you’re back. And all your body parts are your parts.

  THE END

  Start over.

  Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”

  1990

  YES, YOU SHOULD BE LOOKING for John Luke in order to get out of here.
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  Yes, they’ve started playing “Girl You Know It’s True” by Milli Vanilli, and you really feel like dancing just a little bit. A girl jumps up and down right next to you, saying how much she loves this song.

  “They’re not really the ones who sing it,” you tell her. “Just so you know.”

  She has no idea what you’re talking about. No big deal.

  You wonder if the time machine that brought you here is still in the hallway.

  But you know you have to do this. There’s no way you can’t.

  You see one of the football players you used to be on the team with. Jack is a senior who played wide receiver. He’s a good guy, and you can’t remember who he took to prom. But it doesn’t matter.

  You remember who he ends up marrying.

  “Jack,” you call out above the music. “How ya doin’?”

  The guy looks perplexed that you’re talking to him.

  “You want to earn a hundred bucks?”

  A hundred dollars is good money, but back in 1990 it was quite a bit of cash.

  “Sure.”

  “I want you to dance with Samantha Price.”

  A lot of guys would say no, but you remember Jack as someone who turns out to be a very good businessman. He’s also not a very prideful guy, which helps in a situation like this.

  “You want me to dance with Samantha?”

  “Yeah. For a hundred bucks.”

  “Thought she was dating Rick,” he says.

  “Rick broke up with her.”

  “How do you know all this?” Jack asks.

  Yeah, it does seem sorta weird, this older dude nobody recognizes who knows all these details about the students.

  “I’m a friend of the family.”

  “What family?”

  “Just a family. Will you do it or not?”

  Jack looks at the dance floor, then glances at Samantha. “Okay. I guess.”

  “First slow song.”

  “My date isn’t going to like it.”

  “Split the money with her,” you say. “Go spend it on her.”