BACK TO THE FUTURE by Janet Davis  

No. 6 woke up in a foul mood. It was a Saturday morning and since the early hours he had been aware of a continuous noise of people talking, laughing, doors opening and closing of which he was unused to hearing in the normally peaceful village. It was gone 9 o’clock and he decided to get up and see what was going on. When he opened his front door he was surprised to see many strange faces dressed in even stranger clothes. He gruffly asked if they would mind keeping the noise down but to his anger they totally ignored him. Many of these people were talking into strange hand held gadgets, using them as if it were a telephone. Of course they couldn’t be as there were no wires connected to them but No. 6 was sure these were the cause of the irritating shrill noises he had heard all night. Just at that moment another one set off and the owner rushed to answer it. No. 6 assumed it was orders from the authorities; the way the owner instantly stopped what he was doing to answer the call. He decided to take a walk to see what else was happening in the Village and saw many more strangers holding them to their ear, all completely oblivious to what was going on around them.

The first port of call was the café where the waitress would be waiting with his usual pot of coffee and cooked breakfast. To his astonishment, the café was no more. In its place was a shop full of gifts and pretty pottery. He walked in and stared at what was for sale. There were many things he did not recognise, and when looking further noticed that the pricing system was similar to the decimalised European way. He browsed the shelves and was amused to see a 10 shilling set of towels were priced at £25. No. 6 had the feeling that, once again he had been abducted and put into yet another strange place – yet this was all so familiar to him. What were the authorities up to this time?

After some time, he walked out and went down to the beach to see if everything was the same. He walked down the slope and stood stock still as he realised everything was wrong. The Old People’s Home had been transformed overnight. It was far bigger than yesterday and he noticed that there were no old people around. In their place were people of all ages, sitting outside sipping drinks and eating strange looking sandwiches and food. He had also noticed earlier that many of them carried devices in their hands that looked similar to cameras but after taking the photo, everyone was looking at the back of the camera and smiling and making comments about what they were watching. To his continued amazement the helicopter landing pad and pool were gone, to be replaced by a small circular pool. He frowned as he saw women hardly dressed in two piece swimming suits lounging by the pool and men wearing next to no trunks, showing their buttocks to all who cared to look – but nobody seemed bothered!

He went back up to the village and decided to visit No. 2 to find out what was going on. He ran up the path and was struck by the fact that the green dome was now dark brown. This was just one more oddity that he had woken up to, and to his relief saw the steps leading up to the dome were still the same. He came to the door and was just about to ring the bell when he realised the door was open and inside was not as he remembered it but an art gallery. He was getting seriously fuddled now. Where was No. 2? Where were all the familiar objects and most importantly, who were all these strange people wandering into what was until yesterday, forbidden areas?

Looking around, he noticed that the surrounding cottages had complete strangers occupying them. Doors were open allowing them to come and go, and as he watched he was aware that some were coming out wearing traditional village clothing carrying striped umbrellas whilst others were dressed identical to him in black piped blazers and deck shoes. He noticed that some women were actually dressed like this. He wasn’t fond of women wearing trousers and had forbid his fiancée Janet ever to wear them. However, these women seemed quite at ease, laughing and chatting to others dressed in identical outfits. He was convinced that this was another stunt that the Village authorities had cooked up and decided to go back to his cottage and lay low. He was sure they would come for him soon.

After slowly going back down to his cottage, No. 6 turned to go in, snapping his fingers to activate the automatic door. Nothing happened and as he pushed it open, he was confronted by a small room, full of these people looking intently at various items for sale on the walls. Over the far side he could see a couple of televisions, and on closer inspection saw they were showing a colour programme, which was unheard of. Television was only transmitted in black and white. What was going on? He leaned over to get a better look and nearly fell back. It was Himself! He felt a strange feeling that he was invisible to the crowd of people in this room – his cottage! Turning back to the door he spotted himself emblazoned on the front of tee shirts, along with images of himself on badges, books and even postcards. He pushed against a couple mulling over which item to buy and found to his horror that he passed straight through them. He was right, he was invisible to them.

Outside again, everything looked the same as before only everything was different to his bewildered eyes. Trees and shrubs were more mature and some pathways had been blocked off. He was able to walk around unseen and decided to take a walk into the woods to see if anything had changed there. Usually, Rover would be on his tail the minute he set foot inside them but he found he was able to stroll quite leisurely through the pathways, marvelling at the new additions like a gazebo style building in which he could watch events taking place in the Village below him.

As he stood gazing down, he noticed a large crowd of people were marching down the road holding banners and placards chanting something. He couldn’t make out what they were saying but it seemed almost a copy of the ill-fated election campaign that he once stood for. The big difference with this crowd was that they were all happy and smiling and actually seemed to be enjoying themselves. Not at all the downtrodden group that had accompanied his election tour. Moving away he came back into the Village and decided to go into the Town Hall to see if there was any information there he could glean as to what was happening.

He was allowed to enter unhindered and on walking up the stairs found a bar had been installed and was quite amazed to see women of all ages standing drinking pints of beer and smoking. Women only drank Babycham or sherry and he was quite shocked by this sight. He passed in front of the group and looked closely at them but they obviously could not see him as they chattered on quite oblivious.

As he left the Town Hall and went up the steps opposite he noticed that everyone was walking over towards the Free Sea. He noticed a cottage had it’s doors wide open so he walked in and was fascinated to see a couple of young people slotting a large cassette into a machine under the television. Immediately the screen lit up and he watched transfixed, as everything was speeding, too fast to watch. Eventually one of the youngsters aimed a box at the machine and the television suddenly slowed down to normal speed. He was amazed to see that it was him, from the time when he was employed by the Government as a secret agent a few years ago. He watched for a few minutes, saddened by the fact that they must have been spying on him for all these years and yet he never had an inkling. He left the cottage, his mind now buzzing from everything that was happening to him.

The time was getting on now and he was beginning to quite enjoy his freedom from the watchful eyes of the authorities. He sat down in the pink gazebo and watched as one by one, the people were taking their places on the chessboard. He was glad to see something had not changed. Suddenly the peace was shattered by a sound he knew only too well. The roar of Rover made everyone stood still but instead of freezing on the spot, they were all poking it and pushing it to one another. His mind was in a complete turmoil; didn’t they know they were dicing with death? However, when the game started, he was beginning to recognise bits of it. He knew in advance what was being said, he even knew the outcome of the game with the rook being carted off to hospital. This was a very serious matter, but these people were laughing at the poor man. Surely Rover would come back now to bring order to boot, but no. He was left in tatters having tangled with a thorny rose bush. This was No. 6’s chance, surely?

An idea was formulating in his mind. If he could go unnoticed then escape was possible! He thought no more but swiftly moved up towards the Dome and decided to walk though the restricted area under the arched cottage. This was the point in which Orange Alert was normally activated. He strolled through, meeting many more people coming in toward him and once past the barrier, moved quickly along the lane and to freedom. He had only been down here once in a mini moke and wasn’t sure where it led. He was intrigued by the style of the motor vehicles parked up just outside the barrier. They were almost like something out of science fiction. People were just waving something at them to lock and unlock the doors. The shapes and colours were fascinating and each one seemed to be different. The tyres were very big and some even had an open window on the roof. Whoever these people were, and wherever they came from then they must be millionaires to own such fantastic vehicles. The Village was certainly full of the elite society. He decided not to hang around too long as he could see a sinister security camera scanning the car park, and a few minutes later he was running down the lane to eventual freedom.

He ran and ran but seemed to getting nowhere until, exhausted, he sat down in a field just off the lane. He seemed to be going round in circles, the lane seemed to lead back to the beginning again. He rested his head on the trunk of a tree and slowly dropped off into a deep sleep.

When he woke up, the sun was streaming through his bedroom window. He could hear the familiar sound of the Atlantic Ocean crashing onto the beach below. He got up and looked out at the cloudless sky, put on the kettle and went into the bathroom to shower and shave. A familiar face looked back from the mirror, grey crinkly hair, grey moustache, he was home in California but in the back of his mind he was thinking of a strange dream he had last night. Putting the idea to the back of his mind he went back to the kitchen where he picked up the newspaper. It was Sunday 30th March 2003 and as he was reading through the European news pages he noticed a small item reporting on the antics of the fans of The Prisoner at their Convention in North Wales the day before. He stopped, read it again and remembered the dream he had last night. A new idea began formulating in his mind. Maybe next year he would surprise them all…