The air carried the scent of burning metal as small zaps of electricity lit the dark room with frantic succession. Could I have really found the last piece? My wondering was cut short by the searing pain I now felt in my left arm followed by the smell of scorched flesh. Small spots of burned skin decorated my arm like stars from where I had accidently burned with the welding machine. But it wasn’t enough to stop. I had found the flux capacitor and the giddy anticipation that my time machine would be able to take me back was all that mattered.
The day had begun in the monotonous fashion as did most days. The cold tiles, the minty toothpaste, and the jolt of caffeine that gave me the will to check my emails. I scrolled through them barely glancing at the six unread emails that informed me that my orders had been shipped when I noticed one with the subject line in all capitals: ‘THAT SONG WAS RIGHT’. It was from the professor who had overseen my research into causation. After making it through her rambling about a recent date she had been on where she made the discovery of an existing flux capacitor it ended with her requesting that I meet her at the scrapyard across the train tracks at four this afternoon. My heart thumped uncontrollably as I struggled to breathe. An existing flux capacitor. An existing flux capacitor. Philosophically time travel had always been riveting but the existence of the very thing that made it possible was beyond belief. I hurried to the garage to put together the pieces of my metal box that would soon be a time machine once the flux capacitor was installed. The hours flew by and there I was parked outside the scrapyard. A rusted sign with a green font in cursive informed me that I was at Charlie’s Scrap’n Parts. I noticed Professor Mimi’s car and decided to head in.
The late afternoon sun made the dust particles shimmer on cars that had been sitting there for decades. Mimi was speaking to a man, who I made out to be Charlie after reading the stitching on his overalls. “That hunk of metal?” Charlie laughed as he gestured vaguely, “Sure, you can have it. Damn thing’s always tripping the power when the weather isn’t right.” He led us to a covered shed and there it was, a small cube no bigger than my face with lightning marks etched over the entire surface. My palms were sweaty and hands shaking as I lightly ran my fingers over the flux capacitor. Time travel was no longer an abstract to be debated. It was real and I could go back.
After thanking Charlie and hauling the cube to my car I turned to face Mimi. She smiled and hugged me before whispering “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” I swallow the lump in my throat and nod, “I hope so too.” Once all the pieces are together, I step into the box and into the small glowing display type in the date as 12th May 2019, I press confirm and everything goes black. A noise as though an aeroplane is next to me is heard and then the light returns. The date is flashing on the display indicating that I have arrived. I take a deep breath and step outside. The icy air feels like a million needles making its way to my lungs, there’s no doubt that the tip of my nose is a bright red. The lights are far down below and join the stars, dotting the lilac horizon happily twinkling, a reminder of the life that spills from every corner of the city. The sky beckons dawn the deep purple already lighter than it was seconds ago. I watch from behind the time machine.
My face is hidden in the small of your neck and I can feel your grimace as I press my freezing lips to the welcoming warmth. Your arms wrapped around, pulling me impossibly close. “You’re not even watching the almost sun,” you mumbled. I had insisted that we drive to the peak of the city, to watch the sun come up and the lights fade away, it was the middle of winter and something about the barren trees while the city bustled behind it just needed to be admired. We didn’t know it then, but it would be the last time we did this. “It’s cold,” I whine but turn toward the skyline, warm orange begins to fill the edges and spills into the purple. The universal symbol of hope, a new beginning ushered in by brilliant colours splayed across the horizon. I’m so absorbed in these thoughts that I almost miss it. Your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with lost sleep, “I love you.”