Before Their Time
Leonard Wright and Drew Schmidt sat in the back of their “America in the Twentieth Century” history class. Their teacher, Mr. Tucker, was droning on about the Gulf War while PowerPoint slides flashed on the front wall. It was nearing the end of the school year, so enthusiasm was in short supply for both teacher and students.
“This is so boring,” Drew leaned over and muttered to Leo.
Leo turned and donned a depressingly bored face.
“I know,” Leo commiserated.
“When are we ever going to need this stuff?” Drew complained.
The constant tenor of Mr. Tucker’s monotonous voice ceased abruptly.
“Esteemed professors Wright and Schmidt,” Mr. Tucker’s crisp reproach jerked the boys’ attention back to the lesson. “Would you care to share your insights on the geopolitical state of the early nineteen nineties?”
“Sorry, Mr. Tucker. We will respectfully defer to your expertise in the area,” Drew responded, earning some snorts and giggles from classmates. The affirming laughter of their classmates was much more valuable to them than any possible knowledge to be gained from class. Besides, they could just Google all of that later anyway. Regardless, Mr. Tucker asked for them to stay behind after the final bell rang.
“So you don’t think this is the most thrilling class in the world, I get it,” Mr. Tucker said as he was rummaging around in a cabinet behind his desk. “But I wish you two would take history more seriously. Learning history is not just about memorizing dates; it’s about expanding your sense of humanity. And…”
Mr. Tucker trailed off with the promise of more while he shifted his focus to his hunt in the cabinet. He found what he was looking for and resumed speaking just before the fuses on the boys’ attention spans had run out.
“Ah! Here we go.”
Mr. Tucker produced a small box and two bicycle helmets from the cabinet. He set the box on the table and handed the helmets to Leo and Drew, who accepted them with hesitant confusion. Mr. Tucker began opening the small box.
“What is this? Do you want us to wear these?” Drew asked with a chuckle.
“We might not be the smartest kids,” Leo said, raising his spherical helmet for emphasis, “but this is kind of offensive.”
From the small box, Mr. Tucker had removed what looked like some kind of control device and set it on his desk.
“Shut up and put them on,” the teacher instructed.
The boys obeyed slowly, shrugging to one another, while Mr. Tucker adjusted a dial on the controller. Satisfied with the inputted settings, he looked at Leo and Drew seriously.
“Okay, buckle up. Safety first.”
Buckles were clicked and secured.
“Now, on the right side of your helmets you will find a switch. Press that.”
Switches were located and pressed. Tiny lights on the two helmets started glowing green to match a light that had been illuminated on the control unit.
“This is set to nineteen ninety-one. As soon as I hit this switch here you will be transported back to that time. Listen carefully: in order to get back you must—“
“Yeah right!” Drew blurted doubtfully and slapped the control switch.
The boys were engulfed by a bright flash, a swirl of blue and yellow, and driving, electronic sound effects.
They opened their eyes and found themselves smack dab in the center of some bustling city. People rushed all around them, car horns blared in the battle of lane privileges, and they spotted a billboard advertising the upcoming release of the movie “Hot Shots!” Then they looked at each other.
“Okay, so I guess it’s the nineties now?” Drew speculated.
“I just saw someone change the disc in their portable CD player. I can’t live here. We need to figure out how to get back,” Leo whined.
Drew grabbed Leo’s shoulder and gave him an expression similar to a traveling salesman with a life-changing product.
“Wait a minute, don’t you see? We’re from the future. We can bet on stuff and get rich.”
Leo agreed a little uncertainly, but they went in search of a sports bar. Luckily, they weren’t carded on entry otherwise their futuristic birth dates would have seemed like unusual attempts at fake ID’s. On the TV was game one of the NBA Finals between the Lakers and the Bulls. Drew assured Leo that the Bulls won everything in the nineties. “Jordan in the finals? Forget about it,” were his exact words. However, he had forgotten about how the Bulls lost the first game of that series. He proceeded to lose his next three bets, not to mention all of their money.
“Don’t worry about it kid, you can just travel back to a time when you had some money,” a bearded man laughed while counting the cash he had collected from Drew.
“Hey, if you’re from the future,” another bar patron chimed in, “who’s the next president?”
“Uhh,” the two boys racked their brains in unison.
“Who is it right now?” Leo asked.
“Bush.”
“Oh, it’s the other Bush. His son,” Drew answered proudly.
“Or is it Jimmy Carter?” Leo guessed.
The two other men at the bar erupted in laughter.
“Jimmy Carter! Whoo, man I needed a good laugh,” the bearded fellow said when the humor subsided. “So what’s the future like, then? Obviously money and school aren’t important.”
The boys thought for a moment, fumbling for a concise description.
“Everybody just posts video of themselves and argues about stuff on the Internet,” Leo said.
“I’m not really sold on this Internet thing, but whatever you say, kid.”
The man with the beard that had won all of Drew’s money ordered another round of drinks for the time travelers before he left.
As Leo and Drew sat at the bar sipping their beers, the possibility of them being stuck in the past began to loom over them. Their disinterest in school gave them very little advantage for what was to come, and left them powerless to prevent any upcoming tragedy. Who’s to say any of their warnings would be heeded anyway? They were destined to remember the future as it repeated the past in real time just like everyone else. A childhood of digesting disaster after disaster, balanced by an onslaught of six-second attempts at stardom left them ill-equipped to comprehend the true severity of their situation. They dealt with it to the extent of their emotional capabilities: evasion by the means of cynical humor.
“This is the worst day of my life, and I haven’t even been born yet,” Leo started.
“Mr. Tucker is so fired.”