The Adventure of Gary and Captain Future

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
An amazing odyssey across time and space to solve a riddle in a mystery in Gary's garage.

Submitted: March 07, 2017

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Submitted: March 07, 2017

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The Adventure of Gary and Captain Future

 

 

“Welcome to the year XMXXL,” he said, his silver jumpsuit gleaming in the bright light coming into the white room.  “Welcome to the future, Gary.”

 

“What year is it?” I said, rubbing my eyes.  “I have to get to work.”  I swung my legs out of the bed and almost fell to the floor.  Instead, I found myself floating back into bed.  I was wearing a mint-green jumpsuit.

 

“Slow down,” he said.  “You’ve been in Vaccu-sleep for centuries.  You need to give your legs some time before you can walk.  Until then, I can levitate you around with this futuristic device.”  He held up the device.  It looked exceptionally futuristic, far beyond my powers of describing devices.

 

“That’s convenient,” I said.  “What year is this?”

 

“We call it XMXXL.  XMXXL A.D.”

 

“I was never good at Roman numerals.”

 

“They’re not Roman.  They are future numbers.  You might call it the year 5261.”

 

“I’m stunned,” I said.  Indeed, I was.  He started talking about who he was and how he was going to help me adjust to this new world.  How much had changed on the planet Earth and so-on and so-forth.  I stopped paying attention.  The last thing I remembered before waking up to the man in the silver jumpsuit was going to the garage to start the car.  I was several thousand years late for work.  They were probably going to be bent out of shape about that.  My wife might be pissed too.  I started working on my excuses.

 

“I’m sorry that everyone you know is dead,” he said, bowing his head.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes,” he said.  “Your wife is dead.”

 

“Oh, no!”

 

“Yes,” he said.  “And your boss is dead.”

 

“Sweet.”

 

“Come,” he said levitating me over to the window.  “Let me levitate you over to the window.  Take a look at what the future looks like.”

 

“Wow,” I said.  “Are all the windows this nice?”

 

“Yes,” he said.  “Except for the crummy ones.  Once you get used to the future, we will find an occupation for you.”

 

“That’s good,” I said.  “I’m pretty sure that I got myself fired.  I need a job.”

 

“It won’t be a job.  Robots do all the work in the future.  It will just be something to occupy your time.  A diversion.  So you aren’t driven mad by idleness and the incessant sound of robots.”

 

“That sounds terrible,” I said.

 

He kept talking about all the future what-not’s.  I wasn’t sure if it was the right time to discuss the replacement wife.  I kept picturing a noisy robot replacement wife and getting worried about interlocking metal gears.  That was when I realized that I hadn’t quite gotten his name.  I knew he said it.  It was like, ‘Splort,’ or something.  I felt bad.  I didn’t want to backtrack and look like an idiot.  I hate sounding stupid.

 

“Can I call you ‘Captain Future’ from now on?” I splorted out.

 

“That sounds persimmony!” he shouted.

 

“Is that a good thing?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Great,” I said.  “Hello, Captain Future and the world of the future.  So long, 1985!”  I did a little dance.  It felt strange, because I was levitating.  And because there was no music.

 

“Wait, wait,” Splort said.  “Did you say 1985?”

 

“Yes.  That was the year it was.  At least as far as I remember.  October 26th.”

 

“Hmmm.  Hmmmm.  Hmmmmm.”

 

I was starting to think that Captain Future saw some kind of a problem.

 

“Vaccu-sleep wasn’t invented in 1985,” he said.  “It wasn’t a thing until BDBDBDX.”

 

“I never heard of Vaccu-sleep until you said it that time just then.”

 

“Hmmmmmm.  Also, mint-green jumpsuits were all the rage in the year BDBDBDX.  Hmmmmmmm.  There’s only one thing to do,” he said, pointing a finger into the air.

 

“Does it involve finding a robot wife with the fewest interlocking metal gears?”

 

“Eventually.  We need to travel back in time to the last day you remember.  Then we can figure out how you ended up in Vaccu-sleep a thousand years after that and then, because of that, now here with me, Captain Future.”

 

“I’m glad you like the nickname, Splort.”

 

“What did you call me?”

 

“Oh, nothing,” I said.  “It’s just a word we used in 1985.”  He levitated me over to the time machine in the corner.  On the outside, it looked like a British phone booth.  On the inside, it looked very much like a British hotel room.

 

“I’m sorry it’s so small,” he said.

 

“You call that a television?” I muttered.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Nothing,” I said.  “Nothing.  I’m really excited to travel through time.  Could you swing us by the grassy knoll in Dallas on the way to my garage?  I’m really curious to see who really shot Kennedy.”

 

“I’ll spare you the trouble.  It was John Wilkes Booth.”

 

“No kidding!  How’d he manage that?”

 

“Time machine.  Every so often we lose one.  Somebody finds it and messes up reality.  That’s how Trump happened.”

 

“What happens to Trump?” I asked.

 

“You’ll see.  PREPARE FOR TIME JUMP!” he shouted.

 

“Did you have to yell that?”

 

“In case anybody is holding on to the outside.  Trying to get in and make a phone call or whatever.”  The tiny craft shook and then made a loud ‘ping’ like a toaster oven.  “We’re here,” he said.  “Say, can I still be Captain Future even if we aren’t in the future anymore?”

 

“I don’t see why not,” I said.  “Do you think I can try using my legs now?”

 

He shrugged and pressed a button on his levitation device as we opened the door to the excruciatingly small machine.  As I floated down to the ground, my legs gave out and I fell through the open door, right into some fat weirdo hanging out in my garage.

 

“I don’t think your legs work yet,” said Captain Future.

 

“Forget the legs,” I said.  “Grab hold of the fat weirdo before he steals my snow blower.”

 

“Uh, that guy is you, Gary.”

 

“No way,” I said.  “I’m not that bald or fat or- no- wait.  Yeah.  That’s me.  Okay.  Wow.  Do I really look like that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Geez.  Okay.”  I stared down at my limp, bloated body.  I was unconscious.  The other me, I mean.  I myself was conscious, just not him myself.  “Hey.  Couldn’t there be some kind of an explosion or something?  Being in the same place at the same time? Me and him?” I said, pointing to my lifeless mass on the garage floor.

 

“An explosion? Wow.  I hope not.  So far so good anyway,” said Captain Future.

 

“So I guess we just wait and see why it is I have no memory after this morning until I woke up with you.”

 

“I don’t think we should wait too long.  Why don’t I take that Gary to the year BDBDBDX for Vaccu-sleep, and then you can just go to work?”  Captain Future put his hands out in a ‘what-do-you-say’ gesture.

 

“That sounds terrible,” I said.

 

“Let’s just start there.  Then later I can come back with your robot-wife and we can sort out the rest of it.”

 

“I guess so,” I said.  “But remember…”

 

“I know, I know.  Fewest…interlocking…got it.  Now let’s switch your clothes.  You can’t show up to work in a jumpsuit from the future.”

 

“The hell I can’t.”

 

“Just switch the clothes.  Please.”  It was hard to say no to Splort.

 

“Very well.  Can I have the levitation thing?”

 

“Sorry,” he said.  “My mom gave me this one.”  We took the unconscious me’s clothes off and I started to take off my jumpsuit.  Captain Future whistled.  “Yikes.  You two need to do some sit-ups.”

 

“Is there some sort of future thingy you can zap me with to take car of that?”

 

“Yes,” he said.  “There is.”  We put the other me in the jumpsuit and dragged him into the time machine.  It was like trying to stand up a garbage bag full of apple sauce.  “Gary,” Captain Future said.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Will you put some clothing on?”

 

“When I’m ready,” I said.  “This adventure has changed me in so many ways.”

 

“I understand,” he said.  “I will see you soon.”

 

“With the robot?”

 

“Of course, yes.  What will you do about your human wife?”

 

“I’ll figure something out.  Keep one of them in the shed, maybe.”

 

“Goodbye for now, Gary.  Or as we say in the future: Beebo Momo!”

 

“I like ‘goodbye’ better,” I said.

 

“Yeah,” he said.  “I think you’re right.  Until next time.”

 

With that, the time machine doors closed.  It shook and disappeared with a ping.  I stood there, naked, in my garage for a moment contemplating the expansiveness of space and time.  Then I realized I was late for work.

 

THE END?

 

 


© Copyright 2017 Harris Proctor. All rights reserved.

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