“That never—”
“Oh yes, it did,” he interrupts. “And it changed the course of everything. Everything.”
You stare at the busted time machine.
“What’d you do?” you ask.
“For one thing, I helped get legislation in place to make duck hunting illegal.”
“You what?”
Henry nods. He looks seriously sorta crazy.
“That’s right. No more duck hunting. Ever. And you know what happened then? That meant no more Duck Commander. It opened up room for my franchise.”
“Let me guess . . . Squirrel & Girls.”
“Yes. And we’re bigger than anything Duck Commander did. We have our own movies. That’s right. Full length. With special effects. Forget books about time travel. We filmed scenes with space travel.”
“I’m getting out of here,” you say.
“Oh no.”
Now he’s pointing a mysterious object at you. Something that resembles a lollipop.
“This is a blowgun. The round top contains a synthetic blast that could kill you instantly.”
You laugh. “This is ridiculous.”
“I mean it!” he screams. “Now I order you to get into the second stall over there.”
“What for?”
“You’ll see.”
“Look, Henry, whatever you might—”
“Now!” he screams as he waves the lollipop-like thing at your head.
“Okay, fine.”
You start to enter one of the bathroom stalls.
“The second one!”
You step inside and wait.
“Can I come out?”
You keep waiting. You don’t hear anything.
“Henry?”
You decide to slowly open the door.
When you do, blue skies surround you, with similarly colored water below. You see hills in every direction.
Then you spot a field of ducks. Hundreds, maybe thousands of ducks.
You don’t know this now, but you’re in a place called Kendahari, which is a small town in Malaysia. Five people live here. Now there are six.
You never learn the year because you can’t speak the language. All you know is that this place protects ducks. They love ducks. They’re pets.
Here in Kendahari, you have to live alongside ducks for the rest of your life. And you can never harm them nor eat them nor anger them.
You will forever be haunted by ducks. Thanks to Henry Billowby and your time travel machine.
You knew you shouldn’t have gone inside it.
You find yourself wishing you could go back, right to the moment before you spotted the time machine, when you were innocent and busy and didn’t even know time travel was possible.
Funny thing about wishes, however.
Sometimes they come true.
THE END
Start over.
Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
TODAY
YOU AND JOHN LUKE watch as Si attempts to guide his parachute down toward your backyard. He does a terrible job and ends up stuck in a tree. You send John Luke up there to cut him down.
Once Si has his feet back on earth, you ask him what’s going on. He’s got some kind of weird astronaut outfit on.
“There’s been a space-time continuum problem,” Si says. “You have to go back to the future.”
You and John Luke stare at each other.
“Si, what are you talking about?”
“You want to know what I’m talking about? Look, I’m tired. I just survived an alien in my spaceship, a computer taking over my craft, a flight around the moon, and destroying the evil Dismal One. And that’s all before I learned the future of the world depends on you getting in that time machine and setting it to the year 2319.”
Si’s not the only one who is tired. “Look, Si, seriously—I don’t think we should use that time machine again anytime soon. I barely managed to get John Luke back.”
He yanks the front of your shirt and pulls you to him. His eyes get big behind his glasses.
“It’s the fate of all mankind in your hands. The fate of the world.”
“Dad—it’s the fate of all mankind.”
“Be quiet, John Luke,” you say.
You see Jep and his family entering your house for Korie’s birthday party.
You really don’t want to get back in that time machine.
Do you decide to go to the party and ignore Si’s warning? Go here.
Do you get in the time machine by yourself and set it for the year 2319? Go here.
A LONG, LONG TIME AGO
YOU RETURN TO THE TIME MACHINE and end up face-to-face with the old guy in the robe again.
“Good choice,” he says.
“Am I supposed to leave?”
“You can’t leave. You must go out and fulfill your mission.”
“My mission?”
He nods. “Yes. To go and build the great bridge over the River Kwai.” Then he stops for a moment. “No, no, I’m sorry. That is not this story.”
You’re very confused now. “Do you know where my son is? Or my brother? Or my uncle? Or my father?”
“Did your whole family get lost?” he asks—or jokes. You can’t tell which is which with him.
“Seems that way.”
“You, my big bearded brother, are going to head out there into the brave unknown.”
You point to the open door. “You mean the place I just came from? The place where I met you?”
“Yes, yes. Just—it sounds better that way.”
“Okay.”
The old man presses a button on the wall. Underneath it, a panel drops open, revealing a table with three different items on it. “One of these things will help you in your journey.” He picks up the first one. “You have a personal flotation device right here.”
“That’s a life jacket,” you say.
“It’s a personal flotation device. The second is a distress pull cord.”
You shake your head. “A what? That’s like Batman’s gun. It’s a grappling-hook gun.”
He chooses to ignore you. “The third is a chainsaw.”
“Oh, you’re not going to call it a metal teeth-cruncher thing?” you joke.
The old man doesn’t laugh.
It’s time to choose.
“So either I have to float on water somewhere, climb up a castle, or cut down a tree?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Choose, and choose now.”
Do you pick the life jacket? Go here.
Do you pick the grappling-hook gun? Go here.
Do you pick the chainsaw? Go here.
2038
SO YOU DECIDE TO GET IN THE CAR with John Luke (which requires a little bit of time since the car is both low and tiny) and allow him to drive away. You look at him while you’re coasting through a parking lot.
“This is really weird,” you say.
“I understand.”
His voice sounds so . . . adult.
“What are you doing now?” you ask him.
“I’m a professor teaching at Louisiana State.”
You can’t help but laugh. “How’d that happen?”
“I went to college and studied and became a professor.”
“And what about the family business?”
John Luke shakes his head. “There is no more business. You and Mom decided to open a fitness and yoga place.”
“What?”
He doesn’t look like he’s joking. He turns and gets on a road that resembles I-20. But it’s different because the road seems to vanish ahead.
“All interstates are underground now,” John Luke says as you enter a tunnel. “They need less maintenance, and it helps with all the pollution.”
“Okay. What’s the yoga place called?”
“Body by WillKore.”
Something is definitely wrong with this future. You’re just not sure why.
“Uh, Professor John Lu
ke? Are you married?”
“Yep.”
“Kids?”
“Have three of them.”
“How did you meet your wife?” you ask.
“Remember the thing—well, of course you remember it. Twitter? I actually found this girl who was a super-big fan of mine on Twitter. She turned out to be a sweet girl who loves the Lord and is a wonderful soul.”
“You found her on Twitter?”
He nods.
Again, you know something is really not right with the universe.
The car enters sunlight again.
“Are we heading back home?”
“Oh no. I can’t do that to you. I’m driving back to the other machine. To set things right.”
Some of the scenery looks exactly the same as it did—well, back in the present. Then you’re underground on another highway.
“Tell me about the rest of the family,” you say, curious but almost afraid to ask.
“Let’s see,” John Luke says, clearing his throat. “Jase became a professional golfer.”
“What?”
“Yes. Won the Masters twice. Uncle Al took his family and moved to New York City to start up a ministry. It’s currently the only active church in the city. And Uncle Jep . . . he’s doing his thing.”
“What happened?”
“He, uh—after he went on Dancing with the Stars, the whole music thing opened up for him. He’s got some of the bestselling albums of all time now.”
You start laughing and almost can’t stop. This is all pure insanity.
The fried pickles went to my head.
“What sort of albums did he do?”
“Disco. Which, well, you know. Disco went out in the seventies. But actually it came back about five years ago—when Jep brought it back. The album you and Jase sang on with him was the biggest seller. You were like the Bee Gees, except—well, you’re the J-Robs.”
Before you can ask about the rest of the family, John Luke exits the new underground highway thing and heads down a country road.
“Taking me to another outhouse?” you ask John Luke.
He shakes his head. “No. But I am taking you to another time machine.”
You look at his goatee. “You finally grew some facial hair, huh?”
“Yes. But my wife wanted me to keep the dimple showing. It was a big campaign on Twitter—#keepthedimple.” John Luke doesn’t laugh like he thinks this is funny or ridiculous.
“Whatever happened to Twitter?”
He sighs. “There was like a whole war and everything. It got ugly.”
“A war. Like a media war or something?”
“No. Like a literal war. Anyway, long story. There’s not enough time.”
He slows down at a small, winding street off the dirt road you’re on. Then he turns and drives for about five minutes before arriving at an old wooden barn.
“Is that the time machine?” you ask.
“No. They can’t get them that big.”
“So, John Luke.” You have to ask before leaving this weird and wacky world. “Are you happy? Now? In your life?”
He nods. “Yeah. Got a great family. God has been good to us. Can’t complain.”
This is good to hear. Despite all the strangeness.
You both walk into the barn, and after the lights go on, you discover the driver’s seat from a car.
“You just sit down there and it transports you to wherever you think of going,” John Luke says.
For a moment you consider all the places you’d like to go. But then you realize you have to go back to the moment you made the mistake of deciding to get the po’boy sandwich at Duck Diner.
“Anywhere I want to go? I just have to think about it?”
John Luke nods. You can’t help noticing how tall he is now.
“Man, you really grew, didn’t you?” you say.
“It’s funny seeing you in a beard, Dad. You haven’t had one in years.”
“I don’t think I was meant to be a yoga instructor,” you say.
“I don’t either. A lot of things have seemed weird. I think—I don’t know. I think you might be able to help by going back in time.”
You look at the car seat and think you recognize it.
“Is that from your Jeep?”
John Luke nods. “Yep. I kept it for nostalgia.”
“Or did you eventually crash it, and that was the only piece left?”
“Well . . .”
You give your son a hug and decide to get in the driver’s seat. But one thing before you leave.
“Okay, I just gotta ask—” you begin to say.
“Sadie started an orphanage in the Dominican Republic. Rebecca’s fashion line is now worldwide. Will is a big-time music producer who helped with Jep’s albums. And Bella is a famous chef. She cooks for a restaurant on Mars.”
You nod. “These all seem totally believable.”
With a smile and a handshake for John Luke, you take a seat. You focus on the moment you chose to go to Duck Diner instead of getting in the outhouse right away, and the driver’s seat begins to spin.
Maybe you’re not ready to face this future just yet.
THE END
Start over.
Read “The Morning Fog: A Note from John Luke Robertson.”
1990
YOU HAVE THIS CRAZY IDEA. So crazy it’s going to be crazy awesome.
You’re going to give these students something they’ll never forget. They won’t be ready for it. It’ll be like they get hit by a tsunami of groovy love.
You head for the DJ at the back of the gym. “Hey, buddy. I’m wondering if I can play a song.”
The DJ looks sleepy-eyed and pretty laid-back. You could probably ask him anything and he’d say, “Yeah, sure, whatever.”
You pull your iPhone out of your pocket and try to see if the DJ has anything to hook it up with.
But it’s 1990, and things weren’t so simple back then. You can’t just find a plug-in and play music from your phone.
“What’s that thing?” the DJ asks.
“This? It’s my phone.”
The guy shrugs. He seems quite out of it.
“I’m from the future,” you tell him.
“Me too,” he says.
You laugh. Then he pulls out something that resembles a Post-it note. He turns it on with a tap.
“What is that?”
“My communicator. Phones eventually go obsolete.” The hippie-looking dude is not smiling.
“Are you for real?” you ask him.
“Are you?”
“So would you be able to hook my phone up so I could play a song?”
The DJ just nods.
Cool. “Okay, here. This is the song I want to play.”
The DJ looks at your phone. “Whoa. I don’t know, man.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if the world is ready for this.”
“They better be ready, ’cause I’m gonna bring the boom.”
Hippie DJ just stares at you. He obviously doesn’t get your joke. Whatever.
When the music stops, you go to the middle of the floor carrying a microphone the DJ gave you.
“Good evening, everyone. How’s everybody doing?”
Nobody says a word. They’re all looking at you, wondering why the music is off, wondering who in the world you are.
“Listen, Principal Zachary told me I could introduce a song to you.” You use the principal’s name ’cause you know for a fact he’s not here. You remember he skipped this prom when he got sick right beforehand, but no one realized this until afterward. You figured you better mention his name so one of the teachers or chaperones doesn’t escort you out of here. “But I’m gonna need some help. You guys interested in learning a dance?”
Two kids say yes, but the rest of the room is quiet.
“Okay, come on—I swear you’re gonna love this song.” You peer into the cluster of students. “Is John Luke in the building? John Luke, yo
u here?”
You see John Luke come out of the crowd.
“You gotta help me, okay?” you whisper to him.
“Help you do what? We gotta get out of here.”
You return the mike to your mouth. “Okay, boys and girls. I’m going to introduce you to a song you’re gonna love.”
You motion for Hippie DJ to start the music. The zany electronic beat begins.
“‘Oppa Gangnam Style,’” Psy starts to sing. The stream of Korean lyrics continues. You can tell everybody in the room is completely perplexed and wondering what’s going on. They’ve obviously never heard K-pop—Korean pop—before.
“Here you go. Watch me now,” you shout as you start doing the moves.
For the first minute, nobody is dancing. But you and John Luke keep showing everybody how it’s done, and a few brave souls start trying. Then more. Then you have a whole wave of kids trying out the motions. John Luke rejoins the crowd as the steps catch on.
“Come on; let’s go!” you shout as the chorus nears and the signature moves begin.
You make the motions of riding a horse. Soon the whole room is doing the same thing.
“You’re getting it. That’s right.”
You glance toward John Luke and see Korie dancing at his side. Dancing as if she knows him.
Uh-oh.
John Luke is staring at you like, Dad, let’s get out of here.
You just laugh and make the lasso motion again.
As the song nears its end, you decide to get a little fancy with your footwork, hoping to move around John Luke and Korie. But your boots get tangled and you trip and fall.
You don’t just fall. You fall hard.
Hard enough to black out.
When you awake, you’re in a hospital bed. You can feel the bandages on your head and the IV in your arm. You feel woozy, and all you can hear are the whirring sounds of “Gangnam Style.” The door opens, and you expect John Luke to enter the room. Maybe he’ll be able to help you get out of here. But instead a man in a black suit comes in and shuts the door behind him. He comes and sits right by you.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Robertson?”
“Fine,” you say. “And it’s Willie.”
“Having fun at high school proms?” the man in the suit asks.
Willie's Redneck Time Machine Page 9
