s2.e15

Christmas '89

            Jace, not nearly as hungry as Wes, nibbled on the kids’ menu chicken tenders and watched his uncle greedily scarf down a steak, one cut at a time. Seeing him eat red meat was uncommon, but from the look of it, he must’ve felt like he needed the meal.

            “My muscles crave protein…” Wes finally spoke his first words since they had ordered the food, once he was nearly finished. “Man, they are sore after all that…”

            Looking around the place, Jace asked, “Is this where you and Ms. Porter…”

            “Yes,” Wes replied and fell back in his booth to chew his last bit of steak. “I can’t believe I took us to 1989 by accident. I must’ve had the year on my mind from the newspaper. I mean, wow… What can I even say about what the 80s mean to me?”

            “How about you do that later, after we figure out what we’re doing here.”

            The restaurant’s patrons were mostly businessmen, perhaps having a night off as their wives did the shopping. Most of them were dressed in delightfully gray and square era-appropriate gray suits, with big shoulder pads. The waitress came over, her hair in a style that only belonged in the 80s as well. Wes looked like he loved seeing it all.

            “Coffee or dessert before I bring you the check?” she asked them kindly.

            “Shot of espresso. Please,” Wes replied. Once she headed off, he told Jace, “I’m on my last legs—but something strong might give me another couple hours.”

            “So… you’re saying we’re going to stay here.”

            “At least for the night. Hey, look at it this way. I only have three hundred bucks in my wallet. We need a hotel room anyway, and that’ll be even cheaper in ’89.”

            “Well… I guess so. But we gotta talk about what happened with the quartz. And why are we in December, anyway? I don’t think you also screwed up the month.”

            “I don’t know. I’m pretty sure I put in July. I guess the quartz just malfunctioned somehow. At least we’re alive, right? Eh… I’ll worry about it tomorrow when my brain’s less tired. The only thing I want to do tonight is get a room… and head to the mall.”

            “The mall? Right now? It’s already almost eight, on a cold night.”

            “Yeah, exactly—it’s cold.” Wes emphasized his bare arms. “I need a jacket to replace the one waiting in a car nine years from now. If I’m going to shop, I might as well have options. And if nothing else… I absolutely must see the Valley Mall, during the holiday rush in the 1980s. This decade… I tell ya… I’ll tell ya later.”

            The waitress brought over the very small coffee and the check, and Wes seemed delighted about the meager sum owed. He took out his wallet, but then paused to think.

            “I might not actually have any bills from this year or earlier… Huh,” he shrugged, “oh, well. We shouldn’t be around long enough for anyone to really notice.”

            Jace asked facetiously, “Why don’t you glitch your money like you tried way back at the hotel… Hey, wait. I don’t think either of us has had that problem, here or in ’98.”

            “Good observation. The quartzes are a more advanced form of time travel, so maybe they don’t have that problem? Maybe the way they freeze you first has something to do with it… Not that I have any idea why they screwed up on us.”

            “And… we’re totally just going to rest for the night, then get back to it tomorrow, right? We left our tools in ’95 and the car and other stuff in a messed up ’98…”

            “I’m still optimistic that we can fix everything.” Wes finished his small coffee and looked around at some of the other customers. “Kind of amazing how clear the division is between decades sometimes… Here it is, the end of the 80s, but you can still easily tell what decade it is just by what people are wearing. Ah, to be in the time of hair bands and synth, MTV, Disney trying to capture the teenager and fitness-minded markets with stuff like Videopolis and Mousercise, and The Back to the Future movies and Cyndi Lauper. I tell ya… if anything, the 80s was confident about what it wanted to be.”

            “Sounds like you’re in love with this decade. I thought you were about the 90s.”

            “I am, totally, but… Ah, yeah. Later. Let’s see the mall first.” Wes got up and changed subjects entirely, “It’s too bad you never got to see your yearbook photo, by the way. I did a pretty good job. One more reason to make things right…”

            “Whatever motivates you, I guess. I’d be happy just existing at this point.”

            “Look at this place!” Wes exclaimed with his case at his side, as they stepped off of the bus in front of the mall entrance on a cold night, lit up with blue and pink neon.

            “What’s so special?” Jace asked. “I’ve seen the mall during the holidays before.”

            “Sure, but not like this,” Wes said, watching as dozens of people in winter wear entered or exited the mall, its glass doors bordered by garland. “Jace, the 80s were the absolute peak prime time for malls, and… Crap, it’s cold. Uh, let’s get inside first.”

            Jace led the way in while Wes tried to keep his hands warm, and the kid was actually a bit dazzled. There were as many mall-goers as there were during the blackout, only now they were dressed in more colorful clothing and looked happy—or stressed, depending on how many bags from various stores they carried. The fashion was quite expressive; bold, saturated, outlandish or almost experimental at times, just like the hair on display, all among pantyhose and pleather galore. Of course, Wes inhaled the sight.

            “Man, I wish I had more clear memories of this decade…” he murmured.

            “Most of the food court places are different,” Jace observed.

            “Oh, yeah, there’s a little more class here. The mall should still be at about full occupancy, too, and it’ll have some higher end stores that are all gone by ’95. I might even be able to find a pretty nice new jacket in one of them.”

            “Hey, I wanna check out the arcade first.” Jace began speed-walking over to it. “I’m always hearing from you and everyone else how awesome they are in the 80s.”

            “About that…” Wes tried to explain something as he barely kept up.

            Jace was expecting a venue packed full of classic games and cool teens, but only ended up coming to a sudden stop as he arrived at a busy music store. Under a neon marquee with plenty of purple, customers shopped for audio cassettes, or the newer, fancier CDs. It seemed to be one of the most popular stores, at least for the moment.

            “Sam Goody…” he read the name of the place, presented in a hand-written style.

            Wes caught up and looked at what was once a mall staple. “I only have vague memories… Sam Goody was the hip store to go for your latest Huey Lewis, Duran Duran, or Depeche Mode albums. Too bad the local branch closes in ’91 after the Best Buy on Kettle opens and steals their business. Shame, but it got a good replacement.”

            “But I wanted to see an arcade… Wait, Zach mentioned one on Main Street.”

            “Yeah, that’s the one. We could see it tomorrow… if you wanted.”

            “Maybe. Are you going to tell me what’s so great about this decade?” Jace asked as they started walking, while trying to keep from running into other shoppers.

            “I mean, I like the aesthetic—the look of everything, and the colors, but maybe it’s mostly in my head, some perception of a time that doesn’t really exist… I was born in ’85, you know? So, while I have so many clear memories of the 90s, 1988 and ’89 are on this fuzzy edge of them. Combine that with being a young kid at the time, when everything is new and amazing to you… I dunno, maybe it’s hard to explain, but I think I kind of romanticize a decade I can say I lived in, yet barely remember.”

            “Wow, Wes… You can come up with descriptions of time periods without even really saying anything about them. You must think about this stuff a lot.”

            “I kinda do. But, I bet you can admit you were happiest when you were four.”

            “I mean, possibly, if I thought about it like you do. One of my earliest memories, at least an early good one I guess, was… Nah. It’s way too embarrassing. Just forget it.”

            “Come on, you have to tell me now. I promise I won’t laugh.”

            “… Ah, all right, fine. It was Frozen… Mom took me and Laurie to Frozen…”

            Wes suppressed a snort. “Uh-huh. You were, what, three and a half? You still got any of the songs stuck in your head? Laurie… that’s one of Lucy’s friends’ kids, right?”

            Jace turned slightly red in the face and sunk into his jacket. “I guess… Colin was your first friend, and maybe Laurie was mine… Our parents were college roommates or something. They started setting up play dates for us when we were really young…”

            “Cute.”

            “Is not! Don’t say that. It’s kind of weird having a girl as your first… friend.”

            “Eh, I don’t think so. You’re used to Sadie and Celeste by now, aren’t you?”

            “Ugh, that’s different… I know I have to say goodbye to them soon, for real.”

            “Ah, I get it. You’re worried things will get complicated in middle school.”

            “What? No. Not like the way you’re thinking. Besides, I ruined those friendships.”

            “I doubt that’s true. Kids your age can be pretty forgiving. Maybe you’ll go your separate ways when you’re older, but you’ve matured and changed. I’m sure you can get them back. Or, at least a couple of them. You got a Jared in your group?”

            “Maybe… Chad. Sort of.”

            “Well, with a name like that… Nah, I shouldn’t discriminate.”

            “I know I have to try talking to them… It just might be hard.”

            “You’ve done plenty of hard things since we set out. You’ll do fine… Hm.” Wes stopped walking and turned towards the JoS A. Bank store at the corner of the food court, which sold quality suits and jackets, and was still around by 2020. “Um, wait out here. I’m going to run in real quick and check for any good deals.”

            Jace did so, standing outside the store to watch more holiday shoppers, while trying to find out what 1989’s deal was. But he only had a minute before Wes returned.

            “Lot of jackets are half off, but my size was gone. Still pretty expensive, too.”

            “Yeah, let’s maybe not spend all our money and have to spend the night here.”

            “Why not? This is Santa’s workshop, you know—he’s here, right now. You could become one of his elves. Okay, okay… Stop scowling. I do want a peek, though.”

            “Hold on, does that mean we might see you meeting Santa?”

            “My younger self? It’s… possible I’m here somewhere, but you wouldn’t see me on Santa’s lap. I was too scared to ever do that. Mom claims she tried to get me on his knee when I was three, but I started… bawling before I even got close. Yeah…”

            Jace snickered, but was secretly glad that Wes at least shared an embarrassing confession of his own after he did it first. “Were you scared he wouldn’t get you what you asked for—or that he was a big hairy truck driver the rest of the year?”

            “Tiny kids don’t have thoughts that complex. Besides, I still would’ve at least thought he was real. So… I was probably nervous about meeting someone so important and screwing up, I’m sure.” He stopped in front of another store. “Huh. What’s this?”

            The small apparel retailer must’ve been a local one-off. Above its entrance was a marquee with a sheep mascot; apt for a place named Sheepers.

            “This place wasn’t around in ’95,” Jace noted.

            “Yeah… No memories of it. Be right out.”

            While Wes was inside a place this time, Jace looked around for any really young versions of Wessy, or any of his friends, curious what they would look like during their brief stint as 80s kids. But, again, Wes finished up his browsing in just a minute.

            “Weird,” he said as he glanced back at the store. “It’s all just wool winter wear. In a Californian mall. Maybe they make a few sales this time of year, but I can see why this store disappeared before I could remember it… Anyway, Santa’s coming up.”

            “So… should we just get it over with?” Jace asked as they got back to walking.

            “Get what over with?”

            “Come on, you know. You’re going to tell me about a ton of 1980s shows.”

            “Right, right… Okay, first there was…” Wes stopped and smirked at Jace. “Nah, I don’t think I’ll do that to you this time. The sitcoms are great, sure, and SNL is putting out some classic material, but I won’t go into specifics. I’m too tired, anyway. I will say this, though: the animation. This is the last, great, era of Saturday morning cartoons. Amazing stuff, so much hard work. The hand-drawn quality, the color, the effort… It’s all a huge improvement over the 70s and its Hanna Barbera walk cycles. Ah, to be a kid in the time of the original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or Thunder Cats, Transformers…”

            “Vanni talked about the NES ‘golden era,’ too.”

            “Well, yeah. But that was more of a ‘you had to be there’ type thing. Sure, you can always go back and play the games or watch the shows—but she’s talking about something that’s more community-driven. But the movies… I think I’ve said enough about 80s films over our adventure, but when I see the teenagers in these crowds, I get kind of jealous. John Hughes showed this decade’s teens in a way that no one quite did for those of the 90s. Whenever I watch them, they make me yearn for a way I could have spent my teen years here, instead of the turn of the century. Lucky Gen Xers… getting to come of age without the internet. But, again, maybe it’s all just idealization.”

            “So… Do you think I’ll actually, one day… like my 2010s the same way?”

            “Oh, sure. I’ll make fun of you for it,” he chuckled, “but, yeah. Childhood is childhood, kiddo. First you wanna grow up, then you just wish you could go back.”

            Wes smiled upon seeing the KB toy store packed full of wistful kids and grabby hands. The two clothing stores that flanked it, Gadzooks and the still-open Merry-Go-Round, were also busy, the latter slightly less so and looking like the next place to try.

            This time, Wes stayed inside the store for more than a minute, making Jace wait for a bit before he re-emerged in a new jacket. It was a big dark gray one, quite puffy with a lot of zipper pockets. Wes presented his purchase with a grin and open arms.

            “You like it?” he asked his nephew. “Don’t worry, I still have some money.”

            “It… kind of makes you look like a member of a 1980s biker gang.”

            “The important part is that it’ll keep my arms warm. C’mon, we’re going left.”

            After merging with the flowing crowds, they arrived at the large concourse in front of the south wing’s anchor store, the busy Sears. It was here where Santa sat on his throne and a line of kids waited to see him, while a miniature train ran on its track around a winter wonderland of cotton, plastic ornaments, and cardboard boxes wrapped in shiny paper. The locale seemed to be the epicenter of the city’s holiday festivities.

            “W-wow…” Jace exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “I’ve never seen it like this.”

            “Yep, this will be a memory-maker for little-me, definitely. The mall didn’t used to skimp out this time of year. And looking at the Sears now, the one-stop Amazon of its day, full of people buying fridges or getting last minute holiday photos made, you’d never think it’d be on its last legs by 2020. And look at all those kids’ sweaters…”

            Jace did so, quickly seeing that about half of the children waiting to board the train or see Santa were wearing sweaters with all sorts of colors and patterns. A significant portion were also actively wiping their noses on their sleeves.

            “Now there’s a nostalgic punch in the gut. Whenever I see a picture of an 80s kid in an 80s sweater, it brings me right back to those happy early Christmas memories. I can almost see the snot stains now… So, you wanna see Santa, Jace?”

            “Do you?” he joked back—and then noticed a couple familiar kids riding the little train. He tugged on Wes’ new jacket and pointed them out. “Hey, are those two…”

            Wes waited until the train came to a stop and for all those onboard to hop out before confirming the sighting. “Speaking of early childhood friends…”

            Pre-glasses Colin, who currently had light blond and slightly curly hair, bounced out of one of the passenger cars with his best buddy Wessy, who didn’t yet own a hat, but did have on an oversized, dorky orange sweater with red stripes.

            Upon seeing his very young self sharing a treasured memory with his first friend, Wes’ eyes locked onto the lads to burn a nearly-forgotten moment back into his head… And he felt a piercing melancholy in the process, which made him zone out.

            “Wessy, Colin!” his dad’s calling voice snapped him out of it. “C’mon, guys. Lucy still has to see Santa before everything closes. You can ride the train again tomorrow.”

            The boys ran up to the train ride’s fence exit, rejoining younger, more energetic versions of Wes’ dad and Becky—who pushed a three-year-old, tired Lucy in the stroller she was very close to outgrowing. Little Lucy had a big, puffy, pink sweater of her own.

            “Okay…” Jace sighed as he looked at her. “I didn’t need to see Mom in a stroller. But did your dad just say she was seeing Santa? Was she braver than you, then?”

            “You want to find out? It might take a while, though, with a line like that.”

            “Um… sure, I guess I wouldn’t mind seeing all this a little longer. It’s… festive.”

            After forty-five minutes of hanging around, waiting, and watching a crowded mall peter out as closing time came closer, Wes and Jace munched on gingerbread men provided by the nearby Great American Cookies, by the fence around Santa’s workshop. With Colin and Wessy similarly waiting tiredly by the entrance with his dad, Becky and Lucy finally arrived at the big man himself. After handing off Small Lucy to a helper elf, Becky readied her camera in anticipation of capturing a precious Christmas snapshot.

            Adult Wes leaned forward in anticipation, as did Jace. For a few moments, Lucy just sat there on a stranger’s knee, looking confused while her mom encouraged her to ask for a present. Instead, she soon saw no other option but to cry. Santa tried to calm her down, but gave up after a few seconds and had the elf return her to her disappointed mother. With that, Wes let out a sigh as his younger self headed out with his family.

            “Yeah… I guess she Christmas Story’d it,” he said. “I’m not too surprised.”

            “It was still cool to see all this,” Jace replied, and then noticed something nearby.

            “Well, I’m about to crash, hard…” Wes said with a yawn. “But, talk about some seasonal whiplash, huh? Here we were, heading back into summer, and then…” He felt Jace tugging at his sleeve again and looked down at him, to see him pointing. “What?”

            He turned around, to find that he was now only a few feet away from a time eye, springing out from a solid black tear like it always did. It just stared back, and in Wes’ fatigue, his immediate thought was simple. It looks as surprised to see me here as I am seeing it.

            “W-Wes…?” Jace murmured. “Why did that thing follow us here?”

            “I-I… I don’t…”

            A dozen more eyes suddenly blossomed from out from the void, and wriggled about to form one word for the pair to see: “LOST?”

            Now very much done here, Wes tossed the last leg of his gingerbread man into his mouth, grabbed Jace’s hand, and rushed himself and his nephew out of the mall.

            “That’s enough holiday fun for tonight,” he declared as they hit the nearby exit.

            Never having been so relieved to get a hotel room, Wes collapsed onto the bed pretty much the same way Jace did at the previous hotel, which felt like a long time ago. And for the first time since they left Captain Salty, he released the grip on his case.

            “Ah…” he breathed out, clenching and unclenching his handle hand to get the muscles moving again. “Definitely wouldn’t want to lose the important stuff this far back… I can’t believe we got the last room at the downtown Holiday Inn.”

            “Yeah,” Jace said cheekily. “Who would’a thought the Holiday Inn would be packed this time of year? I bet some of these tourists are disappointed.”

            “Hmm…” Wes muttered tiredly, his face buried in the bed covers. “Why?”

            “It’s cold, man! I’ve never seen Royal Valley this cold! I thought we were going to freeze when we got off the bus outside. What’s up with the weather?”

            “Heh… Well, the climate used to be a little more… normal, I guess.”

            After Jace got the room’s heat going and took his shoes off, he sat on the side of the other bed and asked, “What’s the plan tomorrow? Are we just jumping ahead?”

            “Oh… I dunno… We might as well stick around for Christmas, don’t you think? We could use a break… Some destressing after all we’ve been through…”

            “Hard to destress when we know that time daemon thing is stalking us here, too.”

            “Hopefully it won’t follow us around tomorrow, during the little 80s tour I have planned… Thing seems to prefer waiting around to scare us in big, well-known places.”

            “Anyway… I’m going to take a nice, hot shower and try to forget how cold it is.”

            “All right…” Wes said and began to fade. “I’ll be… here…”

            Jace came out of the bathroom about ten minutes later, feeling refreshed after what had been a marathon of emotions, exploration, trespassing, and illegal demolition. Wes was expectedly already fast asleep on his bed, but Jace felt like he could stay up a bit longer—and this was his first chance to actually be alone for the first time in days.

            He found the boxy remote, pushed the 80s era tube TV into an angle to reduce the light hitting Wes, and while keeping its volume low, channel-surfed to see what was playing at eleven o’ clock on Christmas Eve Eve. The flashing colors and fog machines on MTV captivated him for a few minutes, but he eventually settled on watching 1988’s Claymation Christmas Celebration. There seemed to be no escaping the California Raisins.

            The next morning, Wes finally woke up feeling dehydrated and in a daze to the sound of a droll cat narrating his visit to a family farm for Christmas. Once he had opened his eyes and saw Jace on the other bed watching the Garfield special and pouring a miniature box of hotel cereal right into his mouth, Wes sat up, feeling achy.

            “Agh…” he moaned and rubbed his back. “I knew all that hammering and prying would catch up with me…” He looked at the sun hitting their curtain. “What time is it?”

            Jace replied between cereal munches, “Almost ten. Actually kinda early for you.”

            “So… around eleven hours of sleep… Sounds about right. How’d you do?”

            Jace shrugged. “I was up at eight. Watched some more specials, and then went downstairs to get breakfast. Here.” He tossed him a tiny box of Fruit Loops.

            “Thanks… And good to hear you’re still doing your homework.”

            “Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s just extra credit at this point… But you were right. They made some nice animation back… now. Too bad it’s not in HD.”

            “Uh-huh…” Wes tore open his box and began digging out the little colorful O’s with his fingers. “I think I actually had a dream about going down in that elevator…”

            “Oh, also…” Jace grabbed the local newspaper lying at his side and tossed it like a Frisbee over to Wes. “Someone left that at our door. I guess… maybe it’s free?”

            “Yeah, that used to be a service most hotels did for you.”

            Eager to wake up to some local-time information, Wes took the Royal Valley Herald, sprawled it across one side of his bed, and began flipping through it. The front page concerned recent developments in the Romanian Revolution, while the articles on city events were unsurprisingly centered around recent festivities, shopping, and toy and fashion trends. Fortunately, the two hadn’t shown up in any photos taken at the mall.

            He flipped through the other pages after he got up to make himself some coffee, and by the time it was ready, he had moved onto the business section. What he saw off to the side on the second page nearly made him spit out the dark roast blend.

            “Jace, come over here, check this out!”

            As the fat orange cat’s Christmas story came to an end, Jace rolled off his bed and walked over to see Wes pointing at a small article, little more than a blurb. The small black and white picture it used was a headshot of a businessman they had just recently read about—the very same that made the front page of a buried, framed newspaper.

            “It’s that Bartles guy again,” Jace said. “He made the park, right? ‘King Arcade to Break Ground New Year’s Eve’. Hm. What’s it say?”

            Wes read the article verbatim, only pausing a couple times to sip coffee. “The ceremony will be held at 4:00 PM at the former army base near Captain Salty restaurant. Lincoln Bartles, the park creator, is scheduled to attend with business partner Andrew Cristoff. In addition, Hadron…” Wes looked at Jace, blinked, and got back to reading, “Hadron McMare, announced that he will also attend. At 102, Royal Valley’s founder is only seen in public several times a year. He stated that the amusement park is one of the most important projects in the city’s history, and that he can’t wait to see it take shape… Non-press tickets are free but limited in availability. To order, call…”

            Jace spoke up the instant he saw Wes eyeing the room phone, “Hold on, I thought we were going to leave ’89 tomorrow. Do we have the money to stay here for a week? We don’t even have enough clothes… I know you think it’s important, but…”

            Wes leaned over, grabbed the case at the side of the bed, opened it, and pulled out a small bundle of folded clothes, all that he could fit inside. It wasn’t much; both of them had one extra pair of underwear, socks, and a t-shirt.

            “I brought these just in case we needed another day to do… whatever. And don’t worry—we have quartzes, remember? We’ll just skip straight to the day later tomorrow.”

            “Well…” Jace considered it. “What do you think we can get out of this thing?”

            “The ceremony? Anything at all. Maybe we can get a question in about why the elevator was left intact, or we could try and get close to Bartles or that Andrew guy. One of them has to know something. I’m not saying we’re going to resort to corporate espionage here, but those two must have a reason for wanting to keep the lift.”

            Jace sighed. “… All right. I guess it does make sense if we’re already this close anyway.” Wes picked up the phone receiver, but Jace kept him from dialing upon asking, “What’s the plan today, anyway? We’re not doing a bunch of crazy stuff, right?”

            “Nah. It’s just a little trip down memory lane. Oh, and… tonight, there’s a special surprise. I think it’ll be something you’ll never forget.”

            “You and your surprises…” Jace groaned, while Wes dialed and gestured for him to turn down the TV volume, which was now playing a Full House Christmas episode.

            Jace only briefly tolerated the show’s sugary sweetness before surfing again.

            Wes brought Jace to the first stop on the tour before they had lunch, going to the south side of the city; the older area that surrounded the local airport. The bus stopped at the nearly empty parking lot of a forgotten shopping plaza Jace had never seen before, half of the venues in the place now already vacant. When they stepped off, Jace looked inquisitively at the nearby department store, marked by a giant red K.

            “What’s a… K-Mart?” he asked Wes.

            “Come in for a sec and I’ll show you. This’ll be quick.”

            The store was in a sad shape, with dirty floors, buzzing lights, and shelves both outdated and sparse. The ICEE machines at the entrance weren’t running anymore, and the few customers about were of the older set, most of them buying clothes.

            “Ugh, Wes… this place is weird. I hope we’re not clothes-shopping here.”

            “No, no—but have a little respect. This is the second oldest K-Mart in California and it’ll be gone soon. The Target we shop at sometimes opened recently and really stole whatever business this place had left. This used to be a major chain, but it hit its peak in the 70s—about the last time this place was renovated by the look of it.”

            “Okay… But what’s so special about it? Or used to be?”

            “It was just always sort of unique, maybe a bit of an innovator once. Kind of aimed to be a mall within a department store. They’re known mostly for their blue light specials—sudden sales that could happen at any time—but I’m here to see their other big feature. See, K-Marts also had cafés, which were basically real restaurants. And at this one…” Wes stopped in front of a Little Caesars pizza place, where a few patrons were consuming their cheese and bread triangles at grizzled tables. “Yeah… And there it is.”

            “I’ve had enough pizza recently, Unk.”

            “We don’t need to eat here. I just… wanted to look.”

            After about a minute of seeing Wes stare at one table in the back against a wall, Jace grew impatient and asked, “What kind of memory are you obsessing over here?”

            “… Um, one of my first, actually. Possibly my earliest outside the house. If you think about it… the first memory we, well, remember, is kind of what we can consider the start of our stories…” He pointed to the table he had focused on. “Right there, a year ago or so, I sat with my dad and had a slice. I don’t think there was anything special about the day; it’s just one that ended up stuck in the old archives.”

            “… Did you get along better with him when you were that young?”

            “I mean, we ‘got along’ until I was a teenager, but I did feel like we didn’t really connect on any personal level by the time I was six or so… Of course, when I was only three, he would’ve just been Dad, sharing a moment with me after some shopping.”

            Jace sighed and made a painful admission. “I think my dad’s much worse…”

            “I’m sorry about that, bud. You deserve better. My dad was never a complete screw-up—like I’ve said, he did try sometimes, but yours… Well, we don’t have to get into that right now. I’ve seen all I wanted to. Let’s get some lunch.”

            It turned out to be a short walk to the restaurant—as it was just the McDonald's at the other end of the plaza, on an island surrounded by a vast parking lot. Wes wasn’t doing any talking about the place, leaving Jace to wonder what he found so special about it. But as they waited in line to order, Wes visually absorbed the locale as he often did on every nostalgic venue visit. Everything that was unexciting and banal to Jace seemingly filled his uncle with wonder. The brown brick walls, the beige tables and chairs, and the blueish green cushions of the booths all attracted his melancholic gaze.

            “Oh, Jace, I’ll take care of the order,” he eventually said. “Why don’t you go find us a spot? Heh… See if there’s a table near a weird-looking dude at a piano.”

            Jace looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Um… okay. Just remember, no pickles.”

            He set off, taking a second to look at the display of current Happy Meal toys— The Little Mermaid had a set out, featuring colorful renditions of the movie’s cast.

            When he turned into the main dining room, he understood right away what Wes was talking about. The centerpiece of the place was a man in a black suit, at a piano… who happened to have a crescent moon for a head. And he certainly looked happy.

            Without really questioning who the character was supposed to be, Jace secured seats close to the frozen piano player, where he flicked a few cold fries off the table that were left from a previous meal. After a few minutes, Wes came over with the tray of food, including two sodas and a very noticeable Happy Meal box.

            “Really, man?” Jace groaned as Wes sat down. “I’m too old for those.”

            “Ah, I don’t know about that. I think you’re right on the cusp. Hey, just give me this. I want to see a kid in my family open one of these boxes and take out a toy.”

            Jace busted out an eye roll and grabbed the box, opening it by its cardboard arch handles and pulling out a Flounder water toy, which he unwrapped and squeezed tightly.

            “It’s just the dumb fish,” he grumbled and started working on his burger. “Nice, um… foam box? What’s inside? Oh…” he saw the box’s words, “a Big Mac…”

            Wes grinned, perfectly positioned the bronze package, and steadily opened it with both hands, enjoying the moment as he revealed his burger. “Yeah… That’s what I’m talking about. The styrofoam just makes it feel special. Terrible for the environment, sure—but these boxes are from a classic age of fast food, and will soon be phased out.”

            “And who’s the moon guy we’re eating with?” Jace asked, eyeing the big mascot.

            “Mac Tonight, made to push the idea of Mickey D’s for dinner. His position was just eliminated, I think, but it’s cool to see one of the animatronics they made right here, even if it’s not running. Between him, and the old packaging, and seeing you open a toy from this year… This just hits all the marks for my strange 80s McDonald's fixation.”

            “Uh-huh. And what’s the importance of this one?”

            “My parents both took me here and bought me a lot of happy meals, but I also feel like the fast food places all hit their nostalgic crests at different times. Burger King got the early 90s, with their ‘Kids Club’ characters. Pizza Hut and Taco Bell make me think about, like, ’93 to ’96 or so. But McDonald's owned the 80s. All of their many mascots still appeared in the commercials, and you could even buy some decently-made drinking glasses here with cool character art. I still have a few in a cupboard back home. And, heck…” he glanced around, “I just like the look of the place.”

            “… Wasn’t there also a terrible movie you rented and made me watch with you?”

            Wes laughed. “Heh, yeah. Mac and Me, the E.T. rip-off sponsored by Coke and ‘Big M’, with the infamous coordinated group dancing inside and around the restaurant scene. Eh, 1988 was otherwise a pretty good year. Oh, and I can’t forget one last thing.” He savored his final French fry. “The classic fries, before they stopped using beef tallow as the cooking oil in 1990. Yep… These are worse for you, but, damn they’re good.”

            Jace finished his meal, looked outside, and asked, “What happens to this plaza?”

            “Gets bulldozed in ’93 and replaced by an airport hotel. But this McDonald's is still here. Modernized, of course, like the rest of them…” Wes got up and with a wry smile, inquired to Jace, “Now are you ready to see something really cool?”

            Another bus dropped them off at the edge of Main Street, far enough away from anything to give the two a chance to see most of the stores. Christmas wreathes hung off the lights strung up over the road, and the city’s streetcars were still rolling at full capacity, transporting tourists and holiday shoppers all across downtown.

            Shortly after they passed by The Queen theater from the opposite side of the street, Wes came to a stop under a large sign made up of flashing neon tubes. Jace looked up to see a vertical marquee in red and yellow, spelling out “ARCADE”, complete with a three-framed animated Pac-Man chasing a red ghost down toward the sidewalk. Several groups of teenagers and kids left or entered the building while Wes and Jace took a moment to gaze at the game posters plastered outside the place.

            “The Main Street arcade…” Jace murmured.

            His hands in his jacket pockets to keep them warm, Wes turned to him and went into detail. “I only got to go in there a few times before it closed. I think most of the cabinets were moved to the mall arcade, but this is the only place we’ll get to see that real 1980s arcade atmosphere. Inside… is what gave birth to the first Tron movie and majorly inspired the synthwave music genre. It’s the place where gamers, once seen as freaks and punks who lived outside of the mainstream, gathered to celebrate the art and fun of the electronic realm. Yeah, I might be just a little bit giddy about seeing one of these again.”

            “Then stop yammering about it and let’s go inside already. I… wanna see it, too.”

            Wes smiled and pressed on the glass door, and they stepped into a dark room lit only by cyan and magenta neon lights on the ceiling, Christmas bulbs, and the screens of dozens of famous arcade games. Nearly every cabinet was occupied, most with a small line of gamers either waiting for their turn or just watching a pro at work. Wall speakers played early techno music, which was only occasionally audible when there was a lull in the local chatter. The scenery was everything that Wes had expected it to be.    

            “A lot of kids and teenagers wanted to spend their Christmas Eve here, huh?” Jace asked as they walked deeper in and looked around. “I don’t see any 3-D games.”

            “Well, no, it’s 1989. But, from what I remember, this arcade didn’t really have many of the newest games anyway. Most of them are probably from’85 or earlier.”

            “Look at these… haircuts,” Jace said of the teens. “So many spikes.”

            “I could spend all day in here, really. Just looking at all the lights and sprites.”

            The arcade, inside an old downtown building from the 1950s, was efficient with space but still small—and the pair arrived at the back after a short walk, where more bright tubes in geometric patterns floated in front of a mirrored wall. In one of the rear corners, a big crowd of tweens had gathered around someone playing a copy of Paperboy that sat snug between the original Donkey Kong and the dungeon crawler Gauntlet.

            “That’s a tougher one,” Wes told Jace. “Wonder who’s playing.”

            They got a little closer, and one of the boys in the crowd who was there to play, not watch, grumbled that he’d never get a turn and headed off to find a different game. This opened up a viewing spot and let the travelers get a peek at the player—who was a girl Jace’s age with dark brown hair, chewing gum intensely and concentrating on her high score attempt. Wes was already pretty sure he knew who she was.

            “How can she be this good at this game?” some kid asked another.

            “I dunno! I can’t even get past the first level. My newspaper throws always miss.”

            Jace wondered as he watched, “Wes, do you think that’s…”

            “Yeah, it’s Vanni. Maybe in her prime, too.”

            She was owning suburbia with her delivery boy, chucking the papers at every house with perfect accuracy and going for tricks along the way. Wes and Jace watched with the others, and after a suspenseful moment at the end where she nearly crashed her bike, she crossed the rarely-seen finish line to beat the game. She breathed out in relief as her initials made the 3^rd place spot in the high score list. The crowd was impressed.

            “Nothin’ to it,” she exclaimed and turned to see the audience she had picked up. “All right, all right. Stop gawking. Any of you want a go at my score, have at it.”

            Wes and Jace stepped aside to let her through, but she couldn’t make it over to the quarter machine before being stopped by a needy six-year-old boy with orange hair.

            “Vanni, I need some coins!” he begged. “Dat Rampage game is too hard!”

            “Ugh, then stop playing it. Try something you’re good at, or that’s easy.”

            “I’m not a baby and I won’t play the easy games! Pleeeease give me a few quarters!”

            “Nope,” she said and pushed him aside. “You gotta pick your fights better.”

            “B-but… I wanna be the big monster and eat people some more…”

             She sighed and came up with a compromise, “All right, all right. Don’t cry about it. You and me can do a round together on two-player. But I get to be the wolf.”

            “Aw… Ain’t that cute?” Wes said as the step-siblings walked off together. “All right, Jace. You wanna try a few of the classics while we’re in here, so you can say you played a game in an arcade in the 80s? … To no one other than me and yourself.”

            “Sure, but which one?” He glanced around. “There’s a lot of games here…”

            They headed back towards the entrance to get a second look at all the titles, but stopped briefly when a boorish boy, big for his age, pushed off of an arcade cabinet that had just given him a game over. The kid spotted what must’ve been his next mark—a younger, scrawny lad playing the side-scrolling space shooter Gradius. The moment the smaller kid lost a life, the brute-boy shoved him away and took over the controls. The victim looked on helplessly, but the crime had only gone unpunished for a few seconds before the bully’s mother came over and pulled him by the ear.

            “How many times do I have to tell you, Terrence? You can’t do that to other kids!”

            “But, Mom!” he whined on his painful way out of the arcade. “You only gave me a dollar! It’s not fair! Ow, let go! Let goooo!” his voice trailed off as they left.

            “… Okay,” Wes remarked. “Good to see the justice system is still working.”

            Jace watched as the Gradius gamer returned to his fun like he wasn’t bothered by what just happened, and then turned to look at what the future terror had been playing. It was immediately recognizable to him, at least to some degree.

            “I didn’t even know Mario had his own arcade game…” he said inquisitively.

            “Oh,” Wes replied. “That’s the original Mario Brothers. It’s fun. And two-players. You want to play that one? We just hop around in a sewer stomping enemies.”

            It sounded easy to get into, so Jace agreed. They cooperatively played round after round as the famous plumber brothers, enjoying themselves and burning up quarters. It actually got pretty intense, and they both brought out their A game and did their best to make the moment memorable. Once Wes ran out of coins, he got a surprise.

            “We… actually made it to the top ten,” he exhaled happily. “Wow…”

            “That was… fun,” Jace admitted with a smile. “We should do this more often.”

            But the good moment was just about ruined when a voice said, “Aren’t you too old to be playing video games, mister?” Wes turned and looked down to see a snobby boy, no older than seven, glaring up at him. “Even a high score won’t make you cool.”

            Jace watched as Wes stared at the bratty kid, and struggled to think of a response.

            Of course Wes was going to take the two of them to a 1989 movie, since The Queen was just across the street. She was looking a bit more active these days than in ’95 or ’96, with a cleaner, more vibrant red carpet and concession stand staff that served the holiday crowds with smiles. With only four theaters, some of the films in rotation played but once a day, limiting their options. Even so, Wes seemed pleased with his final choice. As they waited on a lobby bench for seating to start, he took out his crisp new tickets and read the printed text for the show and its scheduled time.

            “I’m kinda surprised you didn’t pick Back to the Future II,” Jace remarked.

            “It was tempting. But, we’d have to wait around another couple hours.”

            “We could spend the time back in the arcade,” Jace said, looking at the lobby’s cabinets. “I know that kid calling you a fossil and stuff kinda brought you down, but…”

            Wes was about to say something, then hesitated, shook his head, and checked his watch. “Eh, it’s fine. I’m trying to get us out of here at a certain time. Besides, I saw the whole trilogy in the theater back in 2015 for a special event. The Wizard is definitely a fitting choice anyway, considering it’s all about gaming and arcades and stuff.”

            “What were the other options? I really only looked Back to the Future’s poster.”

            “I saw that Always is playing, a schmaltzy romance story about the spirit of a dead pilot and the girl he left behind. All Dogs Go to Heaven and The Little Mermaid are both still in rotation, and those are some of the earliest movies I remember seeing. Prancer is here, as well—that kids Christmas movie your mom likes that I told you about? She probably just recently saw it. Then there’s the Civil War epic, Glory, and Driving Miss Daisy, both of which will do well in the upcoming rewards season. Oh, yeah—I can’t forget Christmas Vacation. The one my dad likes. All in all, the decade ends with a lot of big titles that go onto become classics. Strange to think they’re new right now.”

            “Um, Wes… You do know that 1989 isn’t the last year of the 80s, right?”

            He smiled and patted his nephew on the head. “I do in fact know that, my fellow enlightened scholar. You are right. But the masses don’t see it that way, or know how tens work, so we have to pretend they’re right to blend in with the simple folk.”

            Jace let out a small laugh. “That’s just something Mom made me learn. But, I guess I get it. No one wants to admit that ‘1990’ is the real last year of the ‘1980s’.”

            Wes acted vindictive. “Just like I will never admit I’m old. Take that, arcade brat.”

            Two hours later, they emerged from the theater under an overcast dusk sky. The streetlights were just starting to come on, and there was a fresh chill in the air.

            “Welp, that’s the second time I saw that,” Jace said. “The video game tournament at the end is cool, but it still feels like a big ad for Super Mario 3. So… what now?”

            Wes was staring up at the sky as a streetcar rushed by and unsuspecting shoppers patronizing the small Main Street stores walked about, bags full of gifts they got at the last possible moment in their hands. The shops were closing early for Christmas Eve, and their keepers and workers were locking the doors and joining those heading home.

            Jace spoke up again after not getting a response, “Hey, uh… I’m kinda curious… Where else did you see movies before the 18 opened? It wasn’t just here, right?”

            Wes replied, but only gave this history lesson passively as he focused on the sky, “Old Century Theatres at the end of Kettle… Became a dollar theater in… 1996.”

            “Are you… waiting for something? Wait, you mentioned a surprise.” Jace looked around suspiciously. “What bad thing is going to happen now? C’mon, tell me…”

            Before Jace’s paranoia overtook him, he suddenly felt something very cold touch the back of his hand. He brought it up just in time to see, briefly, a flake of ice before it melted away. But then there were more ice flakes, falling down around him.

            “Is this stuff… falling off the movie theater?” he wondered. “W-wait… No way.”

            He looked back at his uncle to see him smiling warmly. All around him, up and down Main Street, people—and cars—had come to a stop. Every nearby pair of eyes was skybound, and light gasps of surprise and joy shared the air with the frozen flurries.

            “It’s not…” Jace still couldn’t say the word. “It’s not actually… Is it?”

            Wes finally looked down at his nephew and confirmed reality. “It is. It’s snowing.”

            “This was your surprise? It’s not going to school, or time-eyes, or one of your schemes… It’s just… snowing? In Royal Valley? Snow? Here? I’ve… never even seen it.”

            “Easy, Jace. Breathe. And try to enjoy it.” Wes stepped to the side to let a couple of young children run by, who were quite excited by the wintery spectacle. “I was just afraid I had misremembered when it began. But I definitely know how long it lasts. Yeah. Temps don’t go back above freezing for a bit. The last few days of this year… Magical.”

            Jace stood on the sidewalk, stupefied. All he could do was watch, and keep his hand open to let the rare desert city snowflakes drift down onto his rosy palm.

            It continued to snow as they took a bus back to the hotel, and throughout the ride, the driver remained rather surprised that he was having to use his wipers to keep off the ice. Wes, keeping unusually quiet so he could better absorb the moment that was otherwise a faint, blurry childhood memory, did let out a smirk when some of the other passengers became worried that Royal Valley would “have to close everything down;” a common concern in cities where snow was very rare that sometimes really did manifest into brief civil shutdowns. Jace also had nothing to say, since it was freaking snowing.

            It had lightened up a little by the time they arrived at the hotel, but just enough of the white stuff had accumulated on the ground to allow the creation of snowmen. Wes and Jace both had no doubt many local kids would be more interested in doing that over opening presents the next morning, what with the latter being an every-year thing.

            Wes turned on their room television in time to see the 80s versions of Larry and Kelly talking about the big surprise of the evening on the 7:00 news. He could almost smell the hairspray coming out of the poor-quality screen that blew out their makeup.

            “Well, today’s flurries are still coming down across the city,” Kelly said. “We last saw snow in 1982, but this occurrence took even our weatherman by surprise.”

            “That’s right,” Larry added. “After the break, he’ll give us his updated forecast, and tell us why this will likely be the year’s only day with just right conditions for snow.”

            As a commercial that featured Santa stealing a family’s Oreos and dipping them in milk played, Jace came up to Wes’ side, still fascinated by the show outside. The flakes were lit up by the parking lot’s lamp, making them even more visible.

            “Hey, Uncle Wes… I was going to say something, before the snow started falling and was suddenly the most important thing.”

            “Hm? Wha…?” Wes snapped out of his trance and looked at Jace. “Oh, yeah. I, too, noticed that the theater floors weren’t sticky yet. That was nice.”

            “N-no, not that… I just… I had a good day today. Even before the surprise. And you shouldn’t listen to that kid in the arcade. You aren’t old, or uncool. Well, not yet.”

            Wes sighed. “Sometimes my plans and schedules actually work out. But I was angry at myself, that I couldn’t come up with a good comeback… Petty, I know.”

            “You shouldn’t hold grudges, or try to get ‘revenge…’ It’s Christmas. Again.”

            “Yeah… I know.” He turned back to the snow. “I don’t want to be a Scrooge.”

            On Christmas Day, the two left the Chinese restaurant on Main where they had their lunch. Without much in the way of plowing service, the streets had only been emergency-cleaned by street sweepers, which did little more than turn snow into slush and scatter it about—not that many people were out driving anyway.

            “Well, there you have it,” Wes said as they walked. “A Christmas in 1989. Maybe a little more special than what we had in ’95, I’d say. Being home, and the snow…”

            “Yeah, but you didn’t get me any presents? Seriously?” Jace replied in jest.

            “You’ll get more eventually. Just wait for the next one.” Wes stopped and looked into the alley they were parallel to, which was empty other than an overstuffed dumpster that must not have been emptied very often. “Yeah, this’ll do.”

            “We’re just jumping ahead a few days… We should… be fine.”

            After making sure no one was watching, the two ducked into the alley and went to the side of the dumpster, which looked and smelled ten times worse than the one at The Dump. Wes made extra sure he was still holding his case, then took out his quartz and after a deep breath and a reassuring nod from Jace, pressed the holographic button.

            … But nothing happened.

            Wes tried again, and then when he checked the date—12-31-89—he noticed the flashing ‘ERROR’ text in the screen’s upper right corner. Ever the IT guy, he tapped at the text, and after that didn’t work, he took a minute to press around until he found the diagnostic menu and error log. All the while, Jace waited impatiently and nervously.

            “The hell…?” Wes muttered and scrolled through the log. “It… looks like it’s been generating some ‘temporal link disconnected, bad reference’ message every minute since we got here. Like it’s trying to auto-reconnect to… something.”

            “Can’t you fix it? We can’t be stuck here! C’mon, you’re the tech dude.”

            Feeling his confidence draining, Wes pocketed the quartz instead of attempting to troubleshoot and replied, “Jace… I think it’s safer to wait a few days. We’re so close to possibly seeing the one guy that might know what’s below King Arcade.”

            “But… Our clothes… And you don’t have that much money.”

            “I’ll, um…” Wes tried to smile. “I’ll go to JCPenney tomorrow! I bet they have some good deals… Actually, there might be someone else I could try talking to first…”

            Jace grumbled. “I feel like you just want to be around the snow a little longer.”

            That wasn’t entirely true. Wes had no desire—or confidence—to tinker with such dangerous technology, at least until he ran out of options. But he’d realized, at about the same moment the quartz failed, that he had two people worth finding in 1989. Now, two days after Christmas, he was in cheap 80s clothes and outside a house with an apparently unused garage; an old snow-covered van was on the driveway instead of parked inside.

            He checked the address, which he had printed out at the library after looking up Dr. Corathine on Royal U’s primitive all-text website. He hadn’t expected to find it; it was shocking that there was ever an era where addresses were just put online, but then again, very few people were used to or using the early internet currently.

            There was just one thing he wanted to check before knocking on the door of a home in the quiet, unfamiliar suburbs opposite Desert Tree. Feet crunching the snow in the yard, he got alongside the garage, found a lone, small window, and looked in. He was expecting a Doc Brown-style science lab, but what was actually inside wasn’t surprising.

            A dark blanket hung up by clothesline, two inactive set lights, and a camera on a tripod—this was where Malcolm made, or was still making, his public access TV show. It was neat and everything, but did make Wes worry if the old man was still “all there.”

            Feeling better prepared, he returned to the front and knocked on the door under its hanging wreath. Eventually, it opened—slightly. Malcolm kept the chain on his door and looked not at all ready to open it wider as he silently studied Wes up and down.

            “Um, h-hello,” Wes started the conversation. “Professor Corathine?”

            “Yes…” the old, bearded man replied tepidly from the other side.

            “Hi, I’m not a reporter or anything, but I, uh… I heard you were writing a book about time travel? I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your… studies.”

            “Haven’t you done enough?” Malcolm said, confusing Wes to near speechlessness.

            “W-what…? Do you think we’ve met before or… something?”

            “I’m done giving you ‘advice!’ Leave me alone, time traveler!”

            And with that, he slammed the door in Wes’ face, leaving him befuddled and no closer to help or answers. With a heavy sigh, he walked off to think about the coming groundbreaking ceremony, where he hoped to have better luck. The neighborhood had some roads on an incline, and one of them offered him a clear winter’s view at the city’s current tallest building, Dawn Tower—the business home of King Arcade’s creators.