The Fate of Marty McFly

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Marty slammed on his 4x4's brakes as Doc Brown ran into the driveway just as Marty pulled out of the garage. Leaning his head out the window, Marty shouted, "What're you doing, Doc? You're gonna get yourself killed!"

"Marty!" cried Doc. "Come with me! It's a matter of life or death!"

He looked at his girlfriend Jennifer in the passenger seat with a sheepish smile. "Sometimes I help him with... stuff." Marty climbed down from the truck's cab. "What is it, Doc?"

"Remember the DeLorean? I need to take you on a trip."

"Aw, Doc, I'm taking Jennifer up to the lake. It's gonna be romantic."

"I'll have you back in ten minutes," Doc said. He leaned around Marty and waved at Jennifer. "I'll have him back to you in ten minutes!"

One 88 mph trip later, Doc and Marty stood looking at a landscape: pastoral and natural, but from the floating city in the distance, obviously a distant future. After some time spent in silent awe, Marty said, "What're we doing here, Doc?" Not getting an answer, he turned to see Doc Brown back behind the wheel of the time machine.

"This is a utopia, Marty! No one goes hungry, people live 200 years, everyone gets to pursue their passions! Enjoy it, Marty! You'll fit right in!" Marty's response went unheard for the 15 seconds the DeLorean took to reach hit 88.

Back in 1985, Doc Brown watched through binoculars as Marty McFly arrived from 1955, stuck in the new timeline he'd created, in which a Marty McFly-shaped hole had just been made. It wouldn't do for there to be two of them.

Marty looked at the Toyota 4x4 with wonder in his eyes. He turned with a grin when he heard Jennifer say, "How about a ride, mister?"

Coin of Truth

in

Ka-clunk, chunk!

Farrah dug her change out of the coin return. "You sure you don't want anything?" She held out the handful of change.

"Nah," Ollie said. He leaned against the wall in his artfully ripped jean jacket and spiky blond hair with the smile that still made her bite her lip like it had two years ago. She almost lost herself in the way he looked at her as she pulled her handful of coins back, but one of the coins caught her eye. She looked closer.

"Biden... Impeached? Look at this dollar coin. It says Biden was impeached this year."

"He wasn't."

"I know he wasn't." She turned the coin over in her hand. "But this says it like it's celebrating something, and has this year in big letters."

"That's crazy." Ollie pulled out his phone while Farrah took a photo. "Hey, look at this. People are seeing these all over the country. Search for hashtag Biden impeached." They both focused on their phones for a full minute.

Farrah looked up, despair written on her face. "I guess it's true."

In a faraway office in Washington, DC, the Director of the US Mint steepled his fingers and smiled.

The Danger of Cats

in

Afterward, we lay in bed looking at each other's bodies. She traced a finger down a thin scar on my forearm. "What's this from?"

"Cat," I said, and we laughed. We'd both professed a feline affinity during our intense flirtation in the hotel pool. "He really didn't want to be picked up just then."

"This one?" She stroked a two-inch line on the back of my hand, along the meaty part between the finger and thumb.

"Also a cat." We laughed, but she stopped sooner. "I can't even remember which one."

"What about this?" She sounded uncertain as she touched a long scar just above my hip.

"Cat." This time she didn't laugh, and neither did I. The feeling in the bed had changed.

"This?" She touched my shoulder.

"Cat."

"This?"

"Cat."

"I... noticed your scars in the pool—"

"I noticed yours, too."

"—and I thought we'd have more in common."

"More than cats, you mean?"

"More like..." She bit her lip and turned away.

"Hey, it's okay. Here, what's this one from?" I pointed at a round, puckered scar under her breast, the sort movies told me came from bullets.

She looked at me with hope and doubt. "Cat?"