The key was in place. Marty grabbed it, let himself in and flipped on the overhead light.
He was halfway to the workbench where Doc kept his video equipment when a sudden cacophony caused him to jump in spite of himself. Set precisely, every clock with a way to announce the hour went off together—musical chimes, cuckoo sounds, digital beeps. For ten seconds, Marty stood still, listening until the last harbinger of the hour died away. A smile spread across his face, for he never tired of hearing this strange symphony arranged and orchestrated by the world’s most fanatical timekeeper, Doc Brown.
“Must be one o’clock,” Marty said softly. As indeed it was.
Moving quickly to the workbench, he located the video camera, put it in its carrying case, and skateboarded out of Doc Brown’s garage. Ten minutes later, he neared the two pine trees in a row which marked the entrance to the mall. As he turned the corner, he picked out the familiar step-van and coasted toward it. The atmosphere, lit by sodium vapor lamps shrouded in fine mist, was appropriately eerie for a major scientific experiment.
“Doc,” Marty said as he neared the truck.
There was no answer. Einstein, Doc’s dog, peered out the passenger side window at him, his large dark eyes friendly but noninformative.
“Hiya, Einstein,” Marty said anyway. “Where’s the Doc? Where’s the Doc, boy?”
A few seconds later, he heard an engine roar to life and rev quietly. It seemed to be coming from inside the van, but it didn’t sound like the truck engine. It was too far back, for one thing, the sound emanating not from beneath the hood but somewhere midway of the vehicle.
Marty started to walk toward the back of the van.
Just as he arrived at the rear bumper, he heard a sharp grating sound, a slam, and saw the rear doors dramatically fly open. The drop-down gate lowered into position and a giant shining object swooped down onto the parking lot. It was the stainless steel DeLorean, modified with coils and some wicked-looking units on the rear engine.
Marty stared at it in amazement.
The DeLorean moved softly toward him and stopped. The gull-wing driver’s door was raised to reveal the smiling face of Doc Brown.
Marty barely noticed his friend, however. He continued to stare at the DeLorean, which was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The front of the modernistic vehicle was a smooth slope from windshield to fender—beautiful but hardly startling. From the driver’s compartment rearward, however, the car had been modified so that it resembled something you might see only in an atomic power plant. In place of the rear seat and hatchback door was a huge nuclear reactor, behind which jutted two large venting outlets, each with eight openings. Surrounding the vent and reactor was a six-inch coil which disappeared beneath the rear bumper only to emerge later and wrap itself around the top. A circular projection approximately eighteen inches in diameter, which Marty learned later was radar, hung over the passenger’s compartment. Various heavy cables ran the length of the car from engine to front wheels, adding to its arcane look.
Doc Brown allowed his protégé to stare at the strange vehicle for a minute before speaking.
“Good evening, Marty,” he said with smiling formality. “Welcome to my latest experiment. This is the big one—the one I’ve been working and waiting for all my life.”
Marty was less interested in the experiment than the DeLorean. Walking in a circle around it, he took in every line and hidden seam. “It’s a DeLorean,” he said. “But what did you do to it?”
“Just a few modifications,” Doc Brown smiled.
As he spoke, Brown got out of the vehicle, revealing himself in all his sci-fi splendor. He thought he must resemble Michael Rennie stepping onto Earth for the first time in The Day the Earth Stood Still.
“What’s with the Devo suit?” Marty asked.
No respect, Doc Brown thought. He had gone to so much trouble preparing an appropriate outfit for the occasion and this young man called it a Devo suit.
“Bear with me, Marty,” he replied. “All of your questions will be answered in due time. Now if you’ll roll the tape, we’ll proceed.”
Marty took the video camera from its case, set it on the tripod, and pointed it at Doc Brown. He raised his hand, then dropped it as he pushed the ON switch.
Rather formally, like the narrator of a documentary film, Brown began to speak. “Good evening,” he intoned. “I’m Dr. Emmett Brown. I’m standing here on the parking lot at Twin Pines Mall. It’s Saturday morning, October 26, 1985. It’s 1:19 A.M. and this is temporal experiment number one.” Glancing down at Einstein, who had jumped out of the step-van and was padding nervously around the base of the DeLorean, Doc added: “Come on, Einstein. Get in, boy.” The dog obediently jumped into the car and sat down regally in the middle of the driver’s seat. Doc Brown reached across and buckled him in with the shoulder harness. Then, turning to Marty, the camera and unseen audience, he continued the narration.
“Please note that Einstein’s clock here is in precise synchronization with my control watch.”
With that, he held his digital watch next to the clock on Einstein’s collar. Marty, working the zoomar handle, moved in to a close-up of the two timepieces. Indeed, they were in dead sync.
“Now,” Doc Brown said, “if we can show the entire car again, you will note that the dog is alone in the vehicle and that his clock reads the same as this one on my wrist. This first part of our experiment will involve the canine subject only. No risk is anticipated, but in the time-honored tradition of most breakthrough scientific experiments, we are allowing animals to go first.”
Giving the dog a little pat on the head, he said, “Good luck, Einie,” as he reached in and started the ignition. The DeLorean engine roared once again to life. Brown turned on the headlights and lowered the gull-wing door. Only the very top of Einstein’s head could be seen above the window level.
Stepping backward several feet, Doc Brown continued the scientific narration. “I will now operate the vehicle with this remote control unit.”
He tilted it toward the camera as Marty followed his movements. The remote control unit was similar to that used for a radio-controlled toy car. There were buttons labeled “Accelerator” and “Brake,” as well as a joystick and an LED digital readout labeled “Miles Per Hour.” It was simple-looking but quite sophisticated. Marty had no doubt Doc Brown could maneuver the DeLorean with the device, but at present he had no idea what the end result or product would be. Rather than try to puzzle it out, he decided to simply enjoy the spectacle as cameraman and audience member.