Skylar Town: Writing: In Another Life This Could Have Been an Origin Story

In Another Life This Could Have Been an Origin Story

"You're sure this is going to work?" Edward snapped together the clasps attached to the straps that fit snugly around his shoulders and came together to meet in the middle of his chest.

"Absolutely," said Rachel, giving the straps a couple of tugs to make sure they were secure. She bit her lip and looked over at Carl. "Well."

"We're ninety-five percent certain it'll work," said Carl, smoothly tapping a few buttons on the control panel in front of him. Edward approved of the panel, filled as it was with a dizzying number of switches and levers and gauges and other things he couldn't even identify. Plus lots of blinking lights, which really lent it an authentic air. It looked like he was standing in a real mad scientist's lab, something from right out of the movies.

He shot Rachel a grin. "Ooh, ninety-five percent. So what happens with the other five percent? Do I get turned into a puddle of plasma?"

"If you're lucky," Carl muttered, looking over some readings. He was really getting into the whole scenario.

"Carl," said Rachel. She gave Edward a wavery smile. "You're sure you really want to do this?" she asked him.

"Of course," he said, taking her hand and giving it a reassuring pat. "I volunteered, I signed the waivers, and now I'm about to be transported into the future. It'll be exciting!"

"If it works," said Rachel, and now she was positively chewing on her lip, her chin quivering. She was really getting into the spirit of things, too.

"Ninety-five percent, remember?" said Edward, giving her a wink.

"Maybe ninety," said Carl, still looking at his readings and frowning a little. "Eighty if we're talking worst case scenario. Well, seventy-five."

"I do it for all mankind," Edward intoned. "For the advancement of knowledge, for the glory of our species, to mark the triumph of science over the mysteries of space and time, I will courageously undertake this dangerous voyage into the unknown."

Rachel was still biting her lip, but from the way she was shaking Edward could tell it was no longer because she was playing at being worried. She was desperately trying not to laugh, and her self-control failed when he shot her the cheesiest grin he could possibly manage.

"Oh god, Edward!" She snickered into her sleeve and smacked him with her free arm. "Stop it! Just stop!"

"Damn it, Ed," Carl sighed. "That's the fifth time you've screwed up this scene, and we haven't even started filming yet."

"Yeah, why is that?" asked Edward, looking over at the silent video camera perched on its makeshift tripod. Their camera operator, some kid called Rory who Carl knew from somewhere (all of Carl's friends were people he knew from "somewhere"), was sitting slumped in a beanie chair behind the camera, his eyes closed, his fingers tapping to whatever music was coming through the old-fashioned set of giant headphones covering his ears.
"We'll waste tape," said Carl. "I told you, we don't roll until we get this scene right at least once."

"Outtakes are the best part of the DVD special features," Edward pointed out.

"At this rate, we're not going to have a DVD main feature," said Carl. "Please, Ed, try to focus."

"You should go digital," Edward continued. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about tape."

"Ed."

"High def?"

"Edward!"

Edward smirked. Carl was adamantly against digital filming, something about true filmmakers only using quality tools. All Edward knew was that any branch of art had its snobs and film making was no exception.

"Well, it's hard to focus when the line is kind of cheesy." He raised his eyebrows at Carl. "Don't give me that look. You know it's true."

Carl threw up his hands. "I'm just the director," he said.

"Just," said Edward.

"All right," said Rachel. "Knock it off, you two. It's my fault anyway; I'm the one who keeps laughing. Let's take a few minutes, okay?"

Edward fiddled with his shoulder straps, which were connected to a bulky wire and plastic contraption on his back. It was supposed to be a portable time traveling device. It was actually a bunch of junk attached to an old backpack, but it wasn't heavy and Edward decided it would be better to leave it on, if only so Carl wouldn't yell at him for getting out of costume and wasting time. Instead, he wandered over to the control panel to take a closer look.

"Huh," he said, running his hands over the various dials. "This is actually pretty detailed." He glanced behind it. "You really need all those cords to power a few LEDs?"

"Shannon and her team built it," said Carl, coming up behind him.

"Shannon and her team?" Edward scoffed, trying to cover the fact that Carl had just startled him. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

"They're just some people I know from somewhere," said Carl, shrugging. "I told them what I needed and they built it."

Edward frowned at the panel. "You did tell them it was for a movie? A low-budget independent amateur movie?"

"Of course," said Carl. "I also told them to make it as realistic as possible. They're very good."

"Right," said Edward, and he flipped a switch.

"Don't touch that!" Carl yelled, but it was too late. The lights in their garage movie set actually dimmed a little as the panel let out a low hum.

"Okay, that's weird," said Edward. "How much did you pay for this?"

He didn't get an answer, so he turned around to look at Carl, and was surprised to find his stubbornly too-earnest friend frowning in consternation. "What?"

Carl pointed at the backpack, and Edward strained his neck trying to look behind him. "It's just...I don't remember putting lights on the backpack."

"Haha," said Edward.

"No, really," said Carl, and he took a step back. "They came on when you hit that switch."

"Your jokes are bad, Carl," said Edward. "They're always been bad and they always will be." He pushed a couple more buttons on the control panel. The humming grew louder and now he could feel a vibration he at first thought was coming from the floor, but which he realized was actually coming from the backpack. Carl was halfway across the room now, his head cocked to the side in confusion.

"What, did you cook this up with Rachel?" said Edward. "Maybe Rory over there? Shannon and whoever the hell her team is?"

Carl held out one hand, his worried gaze fixed on the control panel. "Maybe just...don't touch anything else on that thing, okay, Ed?"

"Ooh, what's going to happen?" said Edward, his hand wavering over some dials. "Am I really going to travel into the future, Carl? Really? I never took you for one of those weirdo types."

"Well, they are particle physicists," said Carl. "Who knows what they cooked up."

"Who are particle physicists?" asked Edward.

"Shannon and her team," said Carl, as if it was obvious.

"Carl, how much did you pay for this thing?" Edward asked again. He'd agreed to pay half the cost of the props in exchange for being cast in a starring role. He was not planning to foot a bill for several thousand dollars.

"Well, they did it for free," said Carl. "That's why I went with them. They did say something about testing...something or other."

"Testing what?" said Edward, and despite himself he moved away from the control panel.

Carl shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't listen to that part. Did I mention the props were free?"

Rachel found them still standing there when she came back into the garage, a half-finished bottle of soda in her hand. "What?" she asked.

"I don't think we should use this in the movie," said Edward, gesturing to the control panel.

"I agree," said Carl.

Rachel leaned over the panel to examine it more closely. "Why not? It looks great. Trust me, a sci-fi movie on this budget? Needs all the realistic, expensive-looking stuff we can manage."

"I don't trust it," said Edward. Carl shook his head.

"You guys are nuts," said Rachel. "Look, it even has a big red button. You can't go wrong with a big red button."

Edward had the sudden thought that perhaps, if he was only a little smarter, he would have taken the weird backpack contraption off as soon as it had started acting strangely. But now it was too late.

Rachel hit the big red button.

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