Post by Fiona McFly on Aug 31, 2018 2:36:21 GMT
Chapter II
“MAIDEN VOYAGE”
16 August 2058 + 1430 GMT
The skies were sunny, the temperatures were warm, and there was an aura of happiness amidst of flurry of activity outside a government-owned Washington,DC airfield hangar building. It was where we find the aging Fiona McFly, clad in her authentic “modern Western” attire of blue jeans, polo shirt, and a white Stetson, as she gazed her eyes upon a heavily-modified Terrafugia Transition street-legal “flying car,” which had been dubbed the Falcon and given a rustic look after the famous ship in the Star Wars saga.
Yet on this day, there was much work to be done.
Nikki Weaver, aged 54 and sporting a distincitve white labcoat, skipped to where Fiona was at and handed her a travel mug filled with piping hot coffee and sweet cream. Nikki had taken great pride in her work as a temoral mechanics specialist, a career in which led her to serving under Fiona when the latter was a Cabinet Secretary. Nikki’s most distinguishing feature, aside from her trademark horn-rimmed glasses, was that she sported an old-fashioned wind-up watch around her neck.
NIKKI WEAVER:
Good mornin’ Madame Secretary! The Falcon is ready for bare as you requested.
OLD FIONA:
Excellent! Where’s Bobby?
NIKKI:
I’ve absolutely no clue; all I know is that he was lookin’ forward to seein’ the Falcon pass its first test. Anyhow, let’s hop in and check out some of the cool features I’m sure you’ll like.
Nikki led her former employer into the driver’s seat of the two-person cockpit, and almosti nstantly, Fiona became impressed with its technological marvels and comforts that could be found in most vehicles of the period.
OLD FIONA:
This is amazing, like I’m in heaven or something!
NIKKI:
Wait ‘til you see the gadgets we put in this thing! Sirius-XM Ultra satellite radio, massaging bucket seats, driver and passenger climate control, HD-LED displays protected by fiberglass panels, and so much more. This, however, I’m very keen about and, to be honest, is the one feature you’ve been dying to see--the time core. To activate the time core’s main computer, you press this green button, and the vehicle will automatically switch to flight mode. Your temporal information will appear on the monitor.
A listing appears on the screen, each showing several colour-coded displays to indicate the destination, current location, and where the vehicle had previously traveled to--in green, yellow, and red respectively.
NIKKI:
You input your destination on this keyboard; for example, if you want to see good-ol’ Abe Lincoln deliver his Gettysburg Address…
Nikki entered in a series of instructions, and the monitor sprang to life by showing the date “19 NOV. 1863” under the Destination heading.
NIKKI:
...or watch Queen steal the show at Live Aid…
As the assistant typed, another date appeared on the destination display, this one showing “13 JULY 1985.”
NIKKI:
...or perhaps, you’d like be in the Rose Bowl as Leon Lett made his famous blooper in the Super Bowl!
With a grin on her face, Nikki entered in a final date--”31 JAN. 1993”--before resetting the Falcon back to its street mode.
NIKKI:
You see, everything lies in the palm of your hand! All you need is a little imagination, and you can go anywhere you want. When the core’s activated, remain at full throttle for ten seconds and you’ll see a flashing blue button just below the green one. Press that button...and ZING, you’re off--but not before ya wind up seein’ some serious shit!
Fiona laughed out loud as she took a sip from her coffee mug and placed it in the vehicle’s lone cupholder.
NIKKI:
Word of caution: the potential temporal displacement might cause you to experience a spike in positive G-forces and, thus, black out momentarily. Anyways...I have a couple more things for you. First, take this video camera with you so you can keep a record of your journey. Also…
After handing out the prescribed camcorder, the longtime assistant handed her old boss a lanyard which contained her “cover”driver’s licence, but more importantly, she also placed a briefcase onto the passenger seat that, when opened, revealed a pretty good chunk of money--40 wads of ten $100 bills.
NIKKI:
Forty thousand smackeroos. After all, ya gotta be prepared for all monetary possibilities! Doc Brown’s first rule of time travel, what can I say?!
OLD FIONA:
(chuckling)
Right. Your parents would have been very proud of you.
Nikki closed her eyes, remembering the times she spent growing up with her parents on the old Ridley Airfield near Fredericksburg, Texas. She grew up in a loving Baptist family, yet was quite curious of the ever-expanding world around her. The trouble she had was that nobdy would take the time to show her that “whole new world” that many people have dreamed about yet never experienced for themselves.
That was, until she met Fiona McFly, who would become a great mentor in her own life, which greatly enriched her career as a temporal scientist.
NIKKI:
Wherever you go...do take care of yourself. After all, you might be in another time but your biological clock is still ticking.
OLD FIONA:
I will...and I’ll be back in time for the next poker game!
NIKKI:
You’d better be, Cat Lady! We’re all set to go!
Nikki smiled, closing the passenger side cockpit door and allowing Fiona to take a couple of practice laps around the tarmac in the Transition’s street-legal “car mode.” She giggled as she hugged the turns at a pretty decent rate of speed, a moment very reminiscent of the go-kart races she used to participate in when she was a child. It felt it was only yesterday that she had won the famous Fredericksburg kart race in 1994 at the young age of 12, when everything seemed so pure and innocent.
Yet like all happy moments, this one would be short-lived.
A convoy of black unmarked police cars stopped in front of the Falcon turned onto Runway 47-A. Fiona sighed, shaking her head as she watched a group of heavily-armed FBI officials streamed out from the side of the hangar building, sporting the initials “FBI-TCI Unit” on their uniforms.
OLD FIONA:
Not now, dammit! Why now?!
Indeed, she pondered why the Temporal Crime Investigations Unit would be present at such a big occasion in her life, but her thoughts turned to pure rage upon hearing an all-too-familiar voice coming from the Falcon’s CB-radio system--Bobby Gilmore, son of late ex-President James Gilmore.
BOBBY GILMORE:
(voice on radio)
This is Bobby. I’m sorry Madame Secretary, but...I had to call the Feds last night. I can’t let you risk your life and break the Outatime Act over something you should have done years ago!
Fiona's face turned bright red as she picked up the radio's microphone and answered the hail.
OLD FIONA:
(snarling)
I trusted you for six years, Robert Jefferson Gilmore. How could you be a fucking snitch…!?!
BOBBY:
(voice on radio)
I...I had to do what was best for you. I had to do what I thought was the right thing! You must understand…I care about you very deeply! You’ve been a loving mentor to me ever since I was a child! You helped me and my father after Mom died in the war! Don’t throw that away...
From her vantage point in the cockpit, Fiona watched as Tommy Grawn--a descendant of Lindsey Grawn--got behind a megaphone and spoke into it.
MR. TOMMY GRAWN:
(voice on megaphone)
Secretary McFly, this is Mr. Tommy Grawn with the FBI’s Temporal Crime Investigations Unit. You are not authorised to fly this aircraft at this time, and I must ask you to exit peacefully.
Fiona gritted her teeth as she pressed the green button, activating the time core and switching the craft to its flight mode.
BOBBY:
(voice on radio)
Do as he says, Missus McFly! I don’t want to see you get hurt or killed! Please...get out of the car so we can talk it over, okay?! Let someone else…
In the elderly woman’s mind, that "let someone else..." bit was the last straw.
She had had enough.
It hurt her psyche in knowing that she had spent the past few decades of her life giving up her dreams and ambitions in favour of serving those who didn’t respect her wishes and only cared for themselves. She languished behind a desk as others had taken advantage of her, seizing her concepts and ideas and using them as their own.
Fiona McFly, a once-proud, once-cheerful woman, was not going to take it any longer. With tears in her eyes, she got back on the radio, took a deep breath, and laid into her former colleague with everything she could muster.
OLD FIONA:
Bobby...I’ve never been able to take the initiative in anything I’ve done in me life since I retired from wrestling. I’ve always led from behind with zero ambitions whatsoever--and look where it’s got this country! It’s STILL divided contrary to the mainstream media reports, people are still killing each other wholesale even after the war, and for WHAT!?! This is NOT the life I wanted to live, and I’ll be FUCKED in the fucking arse if somebody else finishes the work I started thirty-five years ago!
Her lips quivered, her body trembling with hatred and angst as she spoke.
OLD FIONA:
People like YOU took the ideas and concepts I had put so much of me own energy behind and utilised them as their own without giving me so much as a fucking shred of credit! When I wanted to actually finish what I start, I’m often left feeling connived into letting “somebody else” get ahead simply ‘cos you think i’m too emotionally unstable after, what, experiencing nothing but war for the past seventy-plus years of me own existence, and I’m NOT going to stand for that! I swear to Christ, James and Yulia--your parents--would have NEVER, EVER tolerated that kind of behaviour from anyone such as yourself, and they were still alive today...
Fiona stopped before having a complete mental breakdown and slammed the radio’s receiver down as Mr. Grawn’s voice permeated through the megaphone in a more terse tone than his previous warning.
MR. GRAWN:
(voice on megaphone)
Missus McFly, this is your LAST chance! Get out of the vehicle or we will open fire! You have ten seconds to comply!
The old woman didn’t need a single second to make a decision. It was either start her life over from scratch or waste away in perpetual servitude forever and ever.
Defy the authorities for one final time….
...or give herself and her ambitions up for all-time.
Choosing the former, she entered a new set of data into the computer as Mr. Grawn counted down slowly. The screens around her lit up all around as she took a deep breath in resigned determination. Eventually, the display on the monitor read something like this:
DESTINATION: 22 AUG. 2018 + 2330 GMT + Fredericksburg, TX, USA
CURRENT: 16 AUG. 2058 + 1435 GMT + Washington, DC. USA
PREVIOUS:
Her right hand eased onto the throttle stick as the Feds opened fire, looking like the Keystone Kops as each bullet missed their marks by a lot. Lead whizzed by all around her as Fiona pushed the stick forward, and the once-former prototype Terrafugia Transition sped forward down Runway 47-A much to the shock and awe of those who were witnessing the sight before them; the vehicle eased off the asphalt, its landing wheels going up as Fiona pulled back on the pilot’s wheel.
The Falcon was airborne.
Turning towards the southwest, she flew over the stunned assembly of labcoats and FBI officials, keeping the vehicle at full throttle for the prescribed amount of time until a blue light began flashing off and on. Fiona clasped her hands in a silent prayer before nodding her head, knowing what had to be done next.
It was now…or never.
The time for mental debate was over.
OLD FIONA:
Time’s…up!
It was time to take action.
The aging woman pressed the flashing button and closed her eyes. There was a slight lurch as the aircraft flew faster and faster, its speed reaching numbers that were off the scale. A series of flashing bolts, like electrical arcs from a lightning storm, buzzed around the Falcon as it shuddered and shook violently. Yet Old Fiona never saw any of it happen.
Just as Nikki warned, the spike of Gs had knocked her unconscious--with only voices from those closest to her, living or deceased, ringing in her head:
OLD FIONA:
(voice; in Texan drawl)
I’ve come here to take you on the road...to a championship!
2018 FIONA:
(voice)
Look, I just want to live me fucking life in peace…
OLD FIONA:
(voice, in Texan drawl)
You ain’t never gonna have ‘peace’ unless ya look yer foes in the eye and tell ‘em to go fuck themselves. Or ain’t you got the gumption no more...!?!
SARAH DAWKINS:
(voice)
C’mon Missus McFly...don’t ya wanna stand up to the bullies as ya helped ME do!?!
WILLIAM MCFLY:
(voice)
You are special, you are loved...Dada loves you...be strong…
JAMES GILMORE:
(voice)
Once ya start the road, dudette, ya gotta finish it and let no one else get in front of you...
JACK GAITHER:
(voice)
I love ya darlin’...ya gotta learn to let go of the past…
OLD FIONA:
(voice, in Texan drawl)
‘Bout time I was honest with myself...with you...
2018 FIONA:
(voice, crying)
...I see him every day, every morning when I wake up, every night when I go to sleep...I cannot live like that anymore...
OLD FIONA:
(voice, in Texan drawl)
You are a beacon of light, you have the power...it’s within YOU! Now, don’t ya waste it like I did...let it out of your soul!
Old Fiona would eventually begin hearing the sounds of a cheering crowd, the rumbles of thunder, and what could be best described as a plane flying overhead.
Then, there was silence. Pure, unadulterated silence.
It remained to be seen whether or not the experiment was a success.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
“MAIDEN VOYAGE”
16 August 2058 + 1430 GMT
The skies were sunny, the temperatures were warm, and there was an aura of happiness amidst of flurry of activity outside a government-owned Washington,DC airfield hangar building. It was where we find the aging Fiona McFly, clad in her authentic “modern Western” attire of blue jeans, polo shirt, and a white Stetson, as she gazed her eyes upon a heavily-modified Terrafugia Transition street-legal “flying car,” which had been dubbed the Falcon and given a rustic look after the famous ship in the Star Wars saga.
Yet on this day, there was much work to be done.
Nikki Weaver, aged 54 and sporting a distincitve white labcoat, skipped to where Fiona was at and handed her a travel mug filled with piping hot coffee and sweet cream. Nikki had taken great pride in her work as a temoral mechanics specialist, a career in which led her to serving under Fiona when the latter was a Cabinet Secretary. Nikki’s most distinguishing feature, aside from her trademark horn-rimmed glasses, was that she sported an old-fashioned wind-up watch around her neck.
NIKKI WEAVER:
Good mornin’ Madame Secretary! The Falcon is ready for bare as you requested.
OLD FIONA:
Excellent! Where’s Bobby?
NIKKI:
I’ve absolutely no clue; all I know is that he was lookin’ forward to seein’ the Falcon pass its first test. Anyhow, let’s hop in and check out some of the cool features I’m sure you’ll like.
Nikki led her former employer into the driver’s seat of the two-person cockpit, and almosti nstantly, Fiona became impressed with its technological marvels and comforts that could be found in most vehicles of the period.
OLD FIONA:
This is amazing, like I’m in heaven or something!
NIKKI:
Wait ‘til you see the gadgets we put in this thing! Sirius-XM Ultra satellite radio, massaging bucket seats, driver and passenger climate control, HD-LED displays protected by fiberglass panels, and so much more. This, however, I’m very keen about and, to be honest, is the one feature you’ve been dying to see--the time core. To activate the time core’s main computer, you press this green button, and the vehicle will automatically switch to flight mode. Your temporal information will appear on the monitor.
A listing appears on the screen, each showing several colour-coded displays to indicate the destination, current location, and where the vehicle had previously traveled to--in green, yellow, and red respectively.
NIKKI:
You input your destination on this keyboard; for example, if you want to see good-ol’ Abe Lincoln deliver his Gettysburg Address…
Nikki entered in a series of instructions, and the monitor sprang to life by showing the date “19 NOV. 1863” under the Destination heading.
NIKKI:
...or watch Queen steal the show at Live Aid…
As the assistant typed, another date appeared on the destination display, this one showing “13 JULY 1985.”
NIKKI:
...or perhaps, you’d like be in the Rose Bowl as Leon Lett made his famous blooper in the Super Bowl!
With a grin on her face, Nikki entered in a final date--”31 JAN. 1993”--before resetting the Falcon back to its street mode.
NIKKI:
You see, everything lies in the palm of your hand! All you need is a little imagination, and you can go anywhere you want. When the core’s activated, remain at full throttle for ten seconds and you’ll see a flashing blue button just below the green one. Press that button...and ZING, you’re off--but not before ya wind up seein’ some serious shit!
Fiona laughed out loud as she took a sip from her coffee mug and placed it in the vehicle’s lone cupholder.
NIKKI:
Word of caution: the potential temporal displacement might cause you to experience a spike in positive G-forces and, thus, black out momentarily. Anyways...I have a couple more things for you. First, take this video camera with you so you can keep a record of your journey. Also…
After handing out the prescribed camcorder, the longtime assistant handed her old boss a lanyard which contained her “cover”driver’s licence, but more importantly, she also placed a briefcase onto the passenger seat that, when opened, revealed a pretty good chunk of money--40 wads of ten $100 bills.
NIKKI:
Forty thousand smackeroos. After all, ya gotta be prepared for all monetary possibilities! Doc Brown’s first rule of time travel, what can I say?!
OLD FIONA:
(chuckling)
Right. Your parents would have been very proud of you.
Nikki closed her eyes, remembering the times she spent growing up with her parents on the old Ridley Airfield near Fredericksburg, Texas. She grew up in a loving Baptist family, yet was quite curious of the ever-expanding world around her. The trouble she had was that nobdy would take the time to show her that “whole new world” that many people have dreamed about yet never experienced for themselves.
That was, until she met Fiona McFly, who would become a great mentor in her own life, which greatly enriched her career as a temporal scientist.
NIKKI:
Wherever you go...do take care of yourself. After all, you might be in another time but your biological clock is still ticking.
OLD FIONA:
I will...and I’ll be back in time for the next poker game!
NIKKI:
You’d better be, Cat Lady! We’re all set to go!
Nikki smiled, closing the passenger side cockpit door and allowing Fiona to take a couple of practice laps around the tarmac in the Transition’s street-legal “car mode.” She giggled as she hugged the turns at a pretty decent rate of speed, a moment very reminiscent of the go-kart races she used to participate in when she was a child. It felt it was only yesterday that she had won the famous Fredericksburg kart race in 1994 at the young age of 12, when everything seemed so pure and innocent.
Yet like all happy moments, this one would be short-lived.
A convoy of black unmarked police cars stopped in front of the Falcon turned onto Runway 47-A. Fiona sighed, shaking her head as she watched a group of heavily-armed FBI officials streamed out from the side of the hangar building, sporting the initials “FBI-TCI Unit” on their uniforms.
OLD FIONA:
Not now, dammit! Why now?!
Indeed, she pondered why the Temporal Crime Investigations Unit would be present at such a big occasion in her life, but her thoughts turned to pure rage upon hearing an all-too-familiar voice coming from the Falcon’s CB-radio system--Bobby Gilmore, son of late ex-President James Gilmore.
BOBBY GILMORE:
(voice on radio)
This is Bobby. I’m sorry Madame Secretary, but...I had to call the Feds last night. I can’t let you risk your life and break the Outatime Act over something you should have done years ago!
Fiona's face turned bright red as she picked up the radio's microphone and answered the hail.
OLD FIONA:
(snarling)
I trusted you for six years, Robert Jefferson Gilmore. How could you be a fucking snitch…!?!
BOBBY:
(voice on radio)
I...I had to do what was best for you. I had to do what I thought was the right thing! You must understand…I care about you very deeply! You’ve been a loving mentor to me ever since I was a child! You helped me and my father after Mom died in the war! Don’t throw that away...
From her vantage point in the cockpit, Fiona watched as Tommy Grawn--a descendant of Lindsey Grawn--got behind a megaphone and spoke into it.
MR. TOMMY GRAWN:
(voice on megaphone)
Secretary McFly, this is Mr. Tommy Grawn with the FBI’s Temporal Crime Investigations Unit. You are not authorised to fly this aircraft at this time, and I must ask you to exit peacefully.
Fiona gritted her teeth as she pressed the green button, activating the time core and switching the craft to its flight mode.
BOBBY:
(voice on radio)
Do as he says, Missus McFly! I don’t want to see you get hurt or killed! Please...get out of the car so we can talk it over, okay?! Let someone else…
In the elderly woman’s mind, that "let someone else..." bit was the last straw.
She had had enough.
It hurt her psyche in knowing that she had spent the past few decades of her life giving up her dreams and ambitions in favour of serving those who didn’t respect her wishes and only cared for themselves. She languished behind a desk as others had taken advantage of her, seizing her concepts and ideas and using them as their own.
Fiona McFly, a once-proud, once-cheerful woman, was not going to take it any longer. With tears in her eyes, she got back on the radio, took a deep breath, and laid into her former colleague with everything she could muster.
OLD FIONA:
Bobby...I’ve never been able to take the initiative in anything I’ve done in me life since I retired from wrestling. I’ve always led from behind with zero ambitions whatsoever--and look where it’s got this country! It’s STILL divided contrary to the mainstream media reports, people are still killing each other wholesale even after the war, and for WHAT!?! This is NOT the life I wanted to live, and I’ll be FUCKED in the fucking arse if somebody else finishes the work I started thirty-five years ago!
Her lips quivered, her body trembling with hatred and angst as she spoke.
OLD FIONA:
People like YOU took the ideas and concepts I had put so much of me own energy behind and utilised them as their own without giving me so much as a fucking shred of credit! When I wanted to actually finish what I start, I’m often left feeling connived into letting “somebody else” get ahead simply ‘cos you think i’m too emotionally unstable after, what, experiencing nothing but war for the past seventy-plus years of me own existence, and I’m NOT going to stand for that! I swear to Christ, James and Yulia--your parents--would have NEVER, EVER tolerated that kind of behaviour from anyone such as yourself, and they were still alive today...
Fiona stopped before having a complete mental breakdown and slammed the radio’s receiver down as Mr. Grawn’s voice permeated through the megaphone in a more terse tone than his previous warning.
MR. GRAWN:
(voice on megaphone)
Missus McFly, this is your LAST chance! Get out of the vehicle or we will open fire! You have ten seconds to comply!
The old woman didn’t need a single second to make a decision. It was either start her life over from scratch or waste away in perpetual servitude forever and ever.
Defy the authorities for one final time….
...or give herself and her ambitions up for all-time.
Choosing the former, she entered a new set of data into the computer as Mr. Grawn counted down slowly. The screens around her lit up all around as she took a deep breath in resigned determination. Eventually, the display on the monitor read something like this:
DESTINATION: 22 AUG. 2018 + 2330 GMT + Fredericksburg, TX, USA
CURRENT: 16 AUG. 2058 + 1435 GMT + Washington, DC. USA
PREVIOUS:
Her right hand eased onto the throttle stick as the Feds opened fire, looking like the Keystone Kops as each bullet missed their marks by a lot. Lead whizzed by all around her as Fiona pushed the stick forward, and the once-former prototype Terrafugia Transition sped forward down Runway 47-A much to the shock and awe of those who were witnessing the sight before them; the vehicle eased off the asphalt, its landing wheels going up as Fiona pulled back on the pilot’s wheel.
The Falcon was airborne.
Turning towards the southwest, she flew over the stunned assembly of labcoats and FBI officials, keeping the vehicle at full throttle for the prescribed amount of time until a blue light began flashing off and on. Fiona clasped her hands in a silent prayer before nodding her head, knowing what had to be done next.
It was now…or never.
The time for mental debate was over.
OLD FIONA:
Time’s…up!
It was time to take action.
The aging woman pressed the flashing button and closed her eyes. There was a slight lurch as the aircraft flew faster and faster, its speed reaching numbers that were off the scale. A series of flashing bolts, like electrical arcs from a lightning storm, buzzed around the Falcon as it shuddered and shook violently. Yet Old Fiona never saw any of it happen.
Just as Nikki warned, the spike of Gs had knocked her unconscious--with only voices from those closest to her, living or deceased, ringing in her head:
OLD FIONA:
(voice; in Texan drawl)
I’ve come here to take you on the road...to a championship!
2018 FIONA:
(voice)
Look, I just want to live me fucking life in peace…
OLD FIONA:
(voice, in Texan drawl)
You ain’t never gonna have ‘peace’ unless ya look yer foes in the eye and tell ‘em to go fuck themselves. Or ain’t you got the gumption no more...!?!
SARAH DAWKINS:
(voice)
C’mon Missus McFly...don’t ya wanna stand up to the bullies as ya helped ME do!?!
WILLIAM MCFLY:
(voice)
You are special, you are loved...Dada loves you...be strong…
JAMES GILMORE:
(voice)
Once ya start the road, dudette, ya gotta finish it and let no one else get in front of you...
JACK GAITHER:
(voice)
I love ya darlin’...ya gotta learn to let go of the past…
OLD FIONA:
(voice, in Texan drawl)
‘Bout time I was honest with myself...with you...
2018 FIONA:
(voice, crying)
...I see him every day, every morning when I wake up, every night when I go to sleep...I cannot live like that anymore...
OLD FIONA:
(voice, in Texan drawl)
You are a beacon of light, you have the power...it’s within YOU! Now, don’t ya waste it like I did...let it out of your soul!
Old Fiona would eventually begin hearing the sounds of a cheering crowd, the rumbles of thunder, and what could be best described as a plane flying overhead.
Then, there was silence. Pure, unadulterated silence.
It remained to be seen whether or not the experiment was a success.
~TO BE CONTINUED~
Well howdy there pardner.