The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades     It took me almost two hours to get across town that night. I had to stop at work to borrow a ladder, which was about fifteen minutes in the wrong direction. Then I dropped by Goodwill, which added another half hour. They were closed by this time, of course, but somebody had piled a couple garbage bags of stuff on the back door. I just hoped what I needed was in one of them. It didn't have to be fancy - just a costume so I wouldn't be recognized.     Luck was with me. I was able to score an old Thriller-era Michael Jackson jacket and some faded checkerboard parachute pants. If that wasn't great enough, stuck inside an old microwave was a pair of mirrored wraparound sunglasses. This was gonna be easier than I thought.     I drove through the sticky summer night with the windows down, looking like a member of M.C. Hammer's entourage. 2 AM and traffic was bad on the 405 - traffic is always bad in LA. De La Soul came on the radio. This was just getting weird now. I shut it off and drove in silence.     I was on the way to my ex-wife's house. Five years ago she kicked me out, though not without reason, I admit. She got everything. The apartment (a shithole anyway,) the car (died in two weeks after I left) and the money (what there was.) This would have been fine, almost expected. I can work to get that stuff back. But that bitch took David from me. He was only two last I saw him, but I could already see the kid had potential. I hated - no, hate - her for taking him away from me. But I hate her even more for proving what I feared most - that I was unfit to raise him, unfit to be a dad. The judge said I was a wreck. No custody, no visits. Arrested on the spot if I ever tried to talk to him. He said I was in no condition to take care of myself, let alone a kid. He said I was unbalanced.     But that was then. This is now. Now I'm balanced. Now I'm in control.     My headlights brushed across the dusty oleanders and dry stucco walls. Man, the place was worse than I remembered. Not that my current residence was Buckingham Palace by any stretch, but then again I wasn't raising a kid. Kids shouldn't have to live in neighborhoods like this. My kid shouldn't have to live in a neighborhood like this.     I unloaded the ladder about a block from their apartment. The air seemed to crackle with possibility. In two days I would be on my way to New Mexico. They were building a dam there and I my boss had asked for volunteers. I saw it as an opportunity for a fresh start. A brand new life. Who knows, I might even change my name.     That's why I was here, at 2 AM on a Wednesday night, breaking into my son's bedroom. It was my last chance to be a father.     His room was on the third floor. I propped the ladder against the stucco as quietly as possible. I'd have a lot to explain if someone caught me, especially in this get-up.     It was a hot night so he had his window open. I tapped gingerly on the metal security bars - I always hated those things. I saw the lump on his bed shift. I tapped again. This time he shot up, straight as a bolt.     “What?”     "Psst! Over here!"     "Who is it?" he asked. The waver in his voice betrayed his bravado.     "Davy! Come here!"     "Wh... how do you know my name?" He reached for the baseball bat beside his bed.     "Davy! I'm not gonna hurt you! Come on!"     He got up, still holding the bat tense, and came over to the window. "How do you know my name?" he asked again, this time with more confidence.     I could make out his face now in the moonlight. Jesus, five years really does a number on a kid. I hardly recognized him. "Of course I know your name, David Franklin Carter. It's my name too."     "What? Who are you?"     "I'm you, of course."     "What are you talking about? I'm gonna get mom..."     "No! No, don't do that. Listen, I'm not lying. I'm you - I'm from the future!"     "Look, freak, my mom has a gun and she'll shoot your ass if you're trying to break in."     "No! No, no. I'm not. Trust me. I am from the future! That's why I'm dressed like this. Look-" and I held out my forearm, pushing back the sleeve. "I've got a birthmark just like you." With a magic marker and a little planning, anything is possible.     "But- Really...?" He said, unconsciously rubbing his arm.     "Yes, really. Look, I'm here on a very important mission. I don't have much time. What do you say you open these bars up so we can talk?” “We can talk fine like this.”     “Ok. Fine. You're right. I've been sent to tell you something very important Davy. I'm here to tell you that the future is great. I'm - you're - rich, successful and happy. You don't live in this crummy apartment anymore. You don't even live in this neighborhood. You live up in the hills, in a big house overlooking the valley. You like girls-"     "Bullshit!"     "Yes, you do. And you don't swear like that, young man." Jesus, did I really say 'young man'? And they said I wasn't cut out to be a father. "You like girls so much that you married a very beautiful one. She's smart too. You might even have some kids with her. You're very happy in the future, Davy.”     "So do I play baseball or basketball in the future? 'Cause I can't decide."     "You play both, whatever you're feeling like that day. Some days the Lakers are begging you to play, but you can't 'cause you've got a Dodgers game to win. But sometimes you don't play anything at all, you do other things too. You're a doctor some days, and you've got your flying license so some days you're a pilot. You've written four novels by now. You do whatever you like, and you're very good at it."     "Wow... really?"     "Yep. But there's a reason they sent me here. There's a terrible problem in the future, Davy. People are fading away everywhere; they're just disappearing. It's because the kids of today - the past, I mean - are giving up. They're not caring anymore. So the people of the future are disappearing." By now the bat had slipped from his hand with a dull thunk. "The writers, scientists, lawyers, the doctors and artists, the sports stars - everybody with a dream - are disappearing. Pretty soon there will be none of us left. So the government set up a time travel program to go back and convince the children not to give up. Not to stop dreaming, not to stop working for those dreams. So that's why I'm here. To tell you that the future is great if you want it to be."     "Really? That sounds made up. . ."     "Trust me, Davy. I wouldn't lie to you – I wouldn't lie to myself! Now go back to bed, you've got school tomorrow. You don't wanna sleep in and miss it." And I started to climb back down the ladder.     "Wait!" he said, running to the barred window. "Tell me one thing."     "What's that?"     "In the future does everyone dress so stupid?"     Despite my best efforts I was slightly offended. I used to think this stuff was rad. "Yes, as a matter of fact we do. But in the future this is about as cool as you can get." I was tempted to give him the glasses, as a sort of fatherly gift, but figured the other kids would just beat him up for wearing them. "Now I mean it, get some sleep."     Two days later I moved to New Mexico.     It's been almost twenty years now since that night. I never saw or heard from Davy after that. I still sent the checks every month without fail. I just left the return address blank.     I don't know if what I told him that night helped him at all. I don't know how he's doing today, if he ever made it out of that dive. I've lost count of how many times I've almost tried to contact his mother, to ask how he's doing, but decided against it at the last minute. Maybe I don't want to face the very likely chance that he's been defeated by life and the circumstances. If he's even still alive, that is.     Or maybe, on that night twenty years ago, I gave him everything I had to offer as a father. Maybe I have nothing left to give him. In the end that's really all a father can do, isn't it? Give everything he's got and hope for the best. And, somehow, I know that Davy ended up getting the best. The End Back