I leap into the truck and quickly throw it into drive. I have no idea where I'm going or what, exactly, I'm doing, but I do know that I need to get out.

Pause. I can tell you're questioning why I am escaping and from where I am escaping. Two words. Kill house.

Kill meaning, I witnessed my father kill my mother in cold blood, and house meaning my house is where I'm escaping from.

Now, before I further proceed, let me introduce myself. My name is Calvin. I'm fourteen.

Okay. That's all you need to know.

Play.

I slam my foot upon the gas pedal and quickly accelerate. I launch past trees and fly back onto the main dirt driveway (we live on a farm in Kansas so there are quite a few mini drives that branch from the main driveway that leads to our small ranch) where, moments after, I spot the road. I'm sweating profusely now, understanding my father may be right behind me, aiming his gun in one hand and driving whatever vehicle he has chosen with another. I swing onto the road and begin to calculate my surroundings.

There's not much here in Littleton, Kansas. Not much at all. So my options? John Cutchison's Diner, the highway, or the two neighbors nearby.

Uh, I think I’ll go with the highway.

I glance to the speedometer and realize I'm breaking all speed limits here in Kansas; I'm rocketing forward at a maniacal ninety-five miles per hour.

I breathe. I focus on the road. Breathe. Focus.

It's nighttime and it's quite difficult to see. Yes, there are headlights, but still, I'm only fourteen. All my driving experience amounts to twice backing out onto the road and once driving through a small wood path. So basically nothing.

A gunshot's sound explodes into the cool air. I scream and, on impulse, throw the wheel to the left. I find myself whipping off into a field that belongs to absolutely no one. At least, I believe it belongs to no one.

I glance into the rearview mirror for a fraction of a second. A large truck, much larger than the one I'm currently in, swings into view. I know the truck. It's white. Splattered with dirt.

My father's.

I scream once more and quickly whip to the right. I hear another gunshot. It misses the truck. Phew.

Wait. Highway. That's where I'm headed. I need to go to the highway. Find the police.

Okay. Breathe. Get to the highway.

I slam on the break and instantly come to a halt. My father was not expecting this at all; he maneuvers past me and zooms into oblivion.

I throw the car into reverse and press the gas frantically. While launching backwards I turn the wheel once completely. I find myself facing the road I blew from.

I throw the truck into drive and speed toward the road, my father's face flashing about my mind rapidly.

Where is he? Did he fly off some cliff and...die? In Kansas? I'm not quite sure I'd want that...but then again, he killed my mother. Killed her. Why? I honestly don't know. Don't ask again. So...scratch what I said about not wanting him to die. I think I'd be okay with that.

His massive truck flies from the darkness behind me. I swerve onto the road and accelerate.

Suddenly a deer leaps in front of my truck. I yelp in shock and throw the truck to the side. From there the world seems to fall into near-stillness.

I hear a gunshot. The back window of the truck explodes. The deer leaps into the air. The truck—the truck I'm driving—flips sideways and slams into the road. I hear another gunshot. I feel myself launch through the windshield. I wasn't wearing a seatbelt. I watch as the truck—my truck—skids into the distance and I feel myself crash into grass. I watch as the truck of my father flies to a halt. I watch a figure emerge and rocket to me. My eyes flutter, shut, and all falls silent.




I sit up. I'm in a completely white room and have tubes inside of me, tubes that have cords on the ends of them that spiral from my skin, onto the floor, and into the wall. There are odd suction-like objects attached to my body.

I then hear a voice that says, "So?"

I realize my father is standing over me. I grin and shake his hand. "That was fantastic."

He smiles and motions to a door behind him. It swings open and figures garbed in yellow suits stride in. They remove their headgear. It's my family and an assortment of strangers. My family circles me and a stranger—a male with ghostly-white hair and narrow green eyes—intercepts my father and strides to the side with him. I ignore my family's questions and watch as they begin to talk.

"Jamie," my sister, Denver, starts, "how did it feel? Did it work?"

She twists my face toward hers. Clearly she and the others surrounding me madly demand my attention and my focus upon them. I nod.

"Yes," I begin, "it worked. It really, really worked. Dad's invention will change the world as we know it."

My mother caresses my cheek. "I'm so proud of you, Jamie, for doing this for your father. He would've tested it himself but he feared it may have killed him. Had it killed him this invention would've been dubbed unsafe." She sighs and yanks her lips into a smile. "We would've been imprisoned, Jamie."

I nod. "I know, Mom." I then turn and face Denver and my two brothers. I say, "Guys, you have to do this. I truly felt as if I was a boy named Calvin. And I was living in Kansas. I watched my dad kill my mom."

Denver and my two brothers gasp.

I continue with, "But it was so cool. Dad's device—whatever he's planning to call this thing—will change the world. We'll be able to journey into different places and times and live out different situations."

They nod excitedly.

My father suddenly breaks into view with the man who pulled him aside. He looks to me and to my mother, to Denver and to my two brothers. He places his hand upon the man's shoulder.

"Mr. Evink here has stated that his company will distribute my invention globally. After witnessing your journey firsthand, Jamie," he motions to the floating screens about the room that are replaying my insane, fake car chase and death, "he and his corporation have decided that this is, in fact, something 2080 will want to see." He smiles. "My invention will change 2080 for the better."

I chuckle. "Dad, you did amazing. I knew this invention would work."

He nods. "It did take years of failure, however, but, yes, it worked, Jamie."




Minutes later I find myself being unlatched (tubes and all) from the incredibly neat invention my father created here in the year 2080 that throws you into a place of your choice (you decide mentally where you would like to go) and allows you to live out a certain situation, whether it be dangerous, humorous, or simply wonderful.

My father then gathers my family up in the large hall outside the room where his invention resides. We're in the hall of a large, spiral building in New York City. We pace to a large window and look out at the bodies whizzing past. Some smile and wave. Others nod. Some ignore us completely.

"Dad," Denver states, "why don't you rocket to work?"

My father giggles. "Denver, rocketing is quite a queasy thing. I prefer the rocketing cars."

Denver nods happily.

"Dad," I then say, "I want to go to the past."

He smiles. "Of course, Jamie, of course. That is most definitely possible with my invention. But, what year, exactly?"

"2010," I spew, the number launching from my lips without any thought.

My father nods. "Certainly."

We then turn from the window, from the world of 2080, and begin to pace back toward the room where my father's invention is sitting. The press has appeared through the whumblers, the tube-like slides that begin at the bottom of a building and sluggishly pull you to a floor of your choice. The press are everywhere, most likely snapping photos of the invention, searching for my father, or doing news segments that are feeding live into the floating televisions of those around the world.

I grin.

"Now," my father begins, huddling my family together, "before we journey off into fame, let's think of a name for this beauty. Ideas?"

"2080?" I offer. My father shakes his head.

"Too basic, Jamie, but you're on the right track. Any other ideas?"

My family remains silent.

"Well, should it be a name?" I inquire. "Like a person name?" My father shrugs.

"It can be absolutely anything. Anything except The Terminatitron Transformation Shooter 10,000." He does this in his newscaster voice. We laugh.

"I got it!" my mother shrieks. Our heads whip to face her. She smiles.

"What?" I ask. She looks to us, her eyes aglow with happiness.

"Futura."

I nod. I love it.

My father approves as well. He leans in and kisses my mother.

"Futura," he says, "is now alive."

We clap and hug.

After further hugs, laughs, and jokes, my father parts from us and is instantly swarmed by the press that has already been lingering beside us. My mother walks with us to the window we were previously gazing through. She hugs us all.

"Your father and I will be at the globe in a few hours," she says. The globe. No homes here in 2080. Large, perfect globes that contain anything you wish.

We nod. I watch as Denver and my two brothers leap into the window. The glass shatters and they sail into the air. The rocket current catches them and they whiz into the distance. The glass rebuilds itself.

"Bye, Mom," I say. She smiles.

"Love you, Jamie."

I turn and sprint into the glass. I then sail into the rocket current, into the massive globs of the bodies beside me, and into the futura.

The future.

One Month Later


We stand, my family and I, on a large stage in New York City. Times Square. The crowd, some on floating stands, some standing on the ground, and some leaning from the large glass buildings surrounding, are cheering. My father is standing near a group of suited men. They each shake his hand. They then give him a giant pair of scissors. I watch as he strides to the large red ribbon hanging in front of the first true Futura that will go on sale. My father slices the ribbon. The crowd roars.

Minutes later, after swirls of congratulatory people, family, and friends, I yank my father aside.

"2010?"

He nods. "Yes."

"Right now?"

He grins and nods. "Right now, Jamie, sure."

Minutes later I'm strapped into the Futura in front of the crowd. My father presses a few buttons after sliding the tubes into my skin (which hurts none, mind you) and seconds after stands back.

"To 2010!" I shriek excitedly. The crowd screams in excitement and watches as I begin to evaporate into thin air. I'm grinning wide.

I then explode into nothingness and find myself in 2010.

Let's go.