A line of three cars pulled up and stopped in front of a stately mansion, designed in the classic California American Arts and Craftsman architecture. It was designed by brothers Charles Sumner Greene and Henry Mather Greene of the architectural firm Greene and Greene
between the years of 1908–09 for the Von Braun's. It was now known as “the Brown Estate.” Located at 1640 Riverside Drive, the house was by far the most affluent in the Hill Valley community. It was rumored that David B. Gamble (of Proctor and Gamble) owned an almost identical house in Pasadena.
It was a three story home, built using traditional Japanese asthetics. There were only a few lights on, and a porch light was lit.
The back door
A line of three cars pulled up and stopped in front of a beautiful mansion, designed in the classic California American Arts and Craftsman architecture. It was designed by brothers Charles Sumner and Henry Mather Green between the years of 1908 and 1909 for the then Von Braun family. It was now knows to all as “the Brown Estate.” Located at 1640 Riverside Drive (Marty had got the address from the phone book at Lou's diner), it was the proud home of none other than Doctor Emmet Lathrup Brown, Ph.d.
There were a few lights on in the mansion and a light glowed on the front porch. The three vehicles came to a stop and the rear passenger door of the lead vehicle opened. Marty stepped out.
Johnny Cash poked his head out, then his arm, and shook Marty's hand. “You got my number now,” Johnny said as he did so.
Marty nodded.
“Don't hesitate to call me son, if you change your mind about going out on the road with us.”
“You haven't even heard me play” Marty smiled.
Johnny shook his head. “Don't need to, I got a feel for this. You're destined for great things kid!”
Marty smiled a sad smile, doubting it now, considering his current predicament. “Thanks,” he said, nonetheless.
Johnny nodded back and then ducked back into his car and closed the door behind him. Marty stood and watched as the cars circled around the drive and pulled away.
Everyone in all three vehicles rolled down their windows and waved at him and he waved back. They all looked very familiar to Marty.
As they drove away, Marty turned and headed for the front door of the Brown Estate. “I gotta hurry,” Marty said to himself, “I don't have much time and now I don't have a time machine either.”
Marty walked up and knocked on the front door. He waited for what seems like a very long time. To the left he saw a curtain rustle, as if someone peeked out. Then without warning the door swung swiftly open wide and a very young looking Doc Brown appeared.
His expression could be described as furious. On his head was some sort of contraption. A sort of metal half sphere with what looked like Christmas tree lights decorating it.
Doc Brown glared at him in a most ugly fashion.
Marty was taken aback, shocked. “You know me?”
Doc looked around outside, as if to make sure no one was watching. He saw the tail lights of the Cash entourage down near the end of his driveway and looked even more upset.
“Did someone follow you here?”
Marty followed his gaze down the driveway. “No, that was my ride.”
Doc frowned deeply, then dragged Marty into the house and closed the door behind them. This was the first time Marty had actually seen the Brown estate except in the newspaper articles from 1962 that hung on the wall in Doc's workshop, which recounted the fire of 1955 which had destroyed it.
The interior rooms were built using multiple types of wood, including teak, maple, oak, and mahogany. There was a wooden panel in the entry hall which Doc had once mentioned led to the kitchen. Doc had described this place so many times Marty felt at home there. He knew there was a main staircase, and just before that another panel, adorned with ebony keys that opened to closet space Doc had said the rooms had a low horizontal shape which, because of the natural light that filtered through the art glass windows made the entire interior glow a reddish gold.
Doc had often said, quite fondly that the Estate commanded a “grand and stately, yet earthy presence.”
Marty could now see that he hadn't been exaggerating at all! It really was quite
impressive and Marty found himself saddened to know it was going to be destroyed, and this very year.
“Of course I KNOW YOU, what kind of question is that?” Doc unstrapeped the contraption on his head and pulled it off.
“What the hell was that on your head?” Marty couldn't help but ask.
Doc stared at him like he had lost his mind. “That's my thought reader, Marty, we've had this conversation before!” Doc then moved his face closer to Marty as if examining his pupils. “What's going on with you Marty, are you messing with me?”
“A thought reader?” Marty is startled. “So that's how you know who I am, you invented a thought reader?”
Doc scoffed and shook his head. “That's not funny, Marty.” He turned away and placed the gangly contraption on his work bench.
“Marty, I have no idea what you are doing here this time,” Doc scolded him some more, “but you can forget it, I'm done helping you out of these time jams!”
Marty is once again stunned. “This time? Doc, what are you talking about, this is my first time, it's not like I have a time travel hobby or something!”
Doc Brown stopsped dead in his tracks and stared at Marty hard again, then he realized this Marty was telling the truth!
“GREAT SSSSSCOTT!” He hissed.
Doc backed away from Marty like he was contagious.
Or the one that was here before that?”
Marty can't believe his ears. “1885?” He exclaimed in amazement. “No, Doc, I came here in a time machine you built, I need your help...”
“To get back to the year 1985,” Doc interrupted him, sitting down on the couch, staring blankly at nothing.
“No! Not that, I need your help to figure out what happened to my future.” Doc looked at him hopefully. “So, you're not stranded here in 1955?”
Marty shook his head no, “I have PLENTY of plutonium! You put a whole case of it in the Delorean before I … left, well,not you, but the older, 1985 you!” Marty looks exhausted. “Can I sit down? It's been a long day!”
Doc Brown looked somewhat relieved and apologetically motioned for him to sit next to him on the lounger.
As Marty did so, worry creased Doc's forehead again. “Okay, so now you said there's something wrong with your future? Even if that were so what in blue blazes am I going to do about it?”
Marty, looking exasperated. “That's what I've been trying to tell you Doc. “I need a chance to explain.”
“Okay Marty,” Doc gave in, but first a few ground rules.” Marty nodded in agreement.
“DO NOT tell me ANYTHING about my own future, aside from the fact that I built that infernal time contraption.” Doc began.
Marty nodded again.
“That's imperative!” Doc said gravely waving a finger. “I especially don't want to hear anything about any disasters that might befall me on the night you came back to 1955, got it?”
Marty hesitated.
Doc glared at him waiting for him to agree.
“Okay,” Marty finally, and reluctantly gave in, “I think I can explain what happened to you the morning I came back here to find you.” Marty chose his words wisely.
“Wait,” Doc said holding up his hands. “I'm going to need some tea, I'm getting a headache.”
When dock had finished with his tea he emerged through the hidden panel leading to the kitchen. Marty had moved to the lounge chair. Doc set his tea on the coffee table after taking one more sip, glaring at Marty like he was a ghost. Then he sat down on the couch, then he laid down, placing on his forehead a cold compress he had brought with him. He listened, seemingly in agony as Marty began his story.
* * * * * * * * * *
Some time later Marty drew near to the end of his tale he had told, leaving off the important details of the Libyans and Doc's unfortunate demise.
“So, then I came back here, to 1955, but I got arrested and they put me in jail with Johnny Cash, and he got me out of jail because he liked my guitar playing... which he never heard before... but anyway he drove me here.”
Marty stopped, awaiting Doc's response. There was a few moments of silence. Doc sat up suddenly, tossing the cold rag aside. “Wait a minute, go back.. you got ARRESTED? And put in JAIL?”
“Yes, Doc, but it's no big deal.”
“Here, in 1955, in Hill Valley? And the time machine is here in Hill Valley now?” Marty nodded sadly.
“Where's the time machine now?” Doc's voice took on a tone of urgency that startled Marty.
“That's one of my problems,” says Marty, “they impounded it!”
Doc's eyes bug out. “What!?” He jumped up and pulled on his hair. “IMPOUNDED?” Marty was confused. “Ya, Doc but I can get it back... I just need to borrow 100 dollars from you.”
Doc leaned forward as if to faint. Exasperated.
“Hohhhhh!” He breathed out, then looked at Marty like he was an idiot. “Marty!” Doc began to pace. “Are you even listening to yourself?
Marty stated blankly at him, confused.
“This is disastrous!” Exclaimed the Doc. “You're telling me that a time machine built in the year 1985, full of weapons grade plutonium from 1985, a substance that is not even readily available in this time frame, and an extra case of which now sits in the trunk, is now in the hands of the local constabulary? Here in 1955?”
Doc threw up his hands. “Bah” he shouted in exasperation. Marty stopped, mulling this over. The light bulb coming on.
“A time machine or pure plutonium,” Doc continued, still pacing, “in the hands of local municipalities. I can think of many scenarios, either one of which could be a disaster of galactic proportions.”
He stopped pacing, facing Marty. “If they turn those things over to the State or worse, FEDERAL authorities!”
Marty stands up in horror. “Great Scott!”
Doc nodded, running his hands through his hair.
“Heavy!” Said Doc, putting his hands on Marty's shoulders. “Kid, do you realize what could happen if weaponry from 1985 made its way into the hands of the 1955 military? We have to get that time machine and that plutonium back right away, that is now our first important priority. Failure to do so could have most dire consequences.”
“Nuclear holocaust.” Marty hissed.
Doc nodded, his eyes going wide. “The four horsemen of the apocalypse.” Marty nodded then looked down. “You warned me about all this.”
Doc stopsped and looks at him. “I did?”
with the time machine and warned me not to interact with anyone if I go back into the past of into the future, especially you.”
“That was good advice Marty!”
Marty was thinking out loud. “You must have somehow known ahead of time about Libyans, you gave me that warning just before they shot you!”
Doc who was taking a sip of his tea, lurches forward and spits. “Shot me? MARTY!” Marty said “ya, well, you're dead in 1985 Doc, that's one of the reasons I came back, to warn you!”
Doc, gagging, stands up and puts his hands over his ears. “Marty, I told you not to reveal to me anything about my direct future beyond the building of the TIME MACHINE!” He yelled.
Marty looked only partly ashamed. “Oh, ya, my bad, I forgot.” Seeing Doc's infuriated stare, he looked genuinely sorry, but not really. “It slipped out, I'm sorry!”
Doc thought about something for a while, his hands on his hips. Then he went to a drawer and pulled out some torn paper. An envelope. He started laying the pieces out on the table like a puzzle.
Marty approached and watched him in curiosity.
When Doc was done Marty could make out the words on the envelope. “Do Not Open Until 1985.”
Marty seemed again surprised, he recognized his own handwriting when he saw it. “Who gave you that?”
“You did,” replied Doc, “well the other you, the one who was here before... twice.” “Twice?” Marty repeated. “You said that before but I don't get it!”
“Never mind about all this,” Doc said, putting a large book over the envelope, “we can deal with it later, right now our first priority is to get that time machine!” He looked at his watch. “It's almost dawn, I want to be waiting there for him when he opens at 7:00.”
“Ya, well, Doc, I still have a lot of questions and not only that I have to be somewhere around 8:30 this morning.”
Doc eyed him with suspicion. “You have an appointment? In 1955? With whom?” “With destiny Doc.”
“Marty!” Doc gave him that same warning tone. “You aren't planning to interact with anyone here are you?”
“Interact, no” Marty replied, sheepishly, “I just wanted to see something.”
Sensing a fib, Doc responded forcefully, “Marty, I don't like that idea, even just your presence here in 1955 could have serious repercussions.”
“Ya, tell me about it,” said Marty.