fandomtownies | Fandom Junkyard and out into the street, Friday afternoon

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Fandom Junkyard and out into the street, Friday afternoon

It was Friday, and Michael had declared himself a long weekend last night, so he didn't manage to stumble his way out of his trailer until early afternoon.

Look. He liked to sleep in, okay?

He stretched, rubbed his eyes, adjusted his hat, and frowned.

Rubbed his eyes again.

Turned in a circle.

"Iz?" he said. "You trying to pull a mindscape thing on me?"

His sister didn't answer. And even if she had, she'd probably have him wandering around Sanders's junkyard, not some random, weirdly humid and salty-smelling one.

He found his way to the entrance gates and looked out at the town.

"I am definitely not in New Mexico anymore, ~~meta for~~ Toto."

[SO ENTIRELY OPEN! Come say howdy to the new cowboy in town!]

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It was purely by coincidence that after the class was done at the Community Center that Dwight decided to go check the junkyard for some things he needed for his next big project.

He was used to seeing someone mulling around, and he was also used to the place being fairly empty at times too. So seeing someone wasn't too unusual, but an unfamiliar face and a co somewhat confused looking one at that was still enough to stand out.

"Hey," Dwight said as he walked over with a smile and a wave. "You ok?"

"That . . . remains to be determined," Michael said, sizing the guy up.

Holy shit, he was large.

"Where the hell am I?"

Oh boy... one of those situations. Dwight gave a small smile. These were always a bit touchy to work through.

"You're on Fandom Island, off the coast of Maryland, United States," Dwight said, watching him closely.

Michael's eyebrows shot up. "Maryland! The coast?!"

That did explain the salt smell. And the humidity.

He turned in a circle, pressing his hat down harder on his head.

"How much did I drink last night?!"

"Take it you didn't end up here on your own accord then huh?" Dwight said. "Wouldn't be the first time someone ended up on the island unexpectedly."

He paused for a moment then, trying to keep things as cool and unpanicked as possible, offered, "I'm Dwight, by the way."

Michael rolled his eyes. "What gave me away? Was it the flailing?"

He'd get around to acknowledging that introduction and making his own . . . eventually.

"That and the general deer in the headlights looks," Dwight replied. "Where is it you're supposed to be?"

"Not Maryland," Michael said, shaking his head. "Kind of the opposite of Maryland."

Shit, Maryland was near DC.

"This isn't a government town or something, is it? Or a military base?"

Those were definitely normal things to be worried about.

"No. Nothing like that," Dwight said shaking his head. "I've had my share of experience with the hush-hush side of things. You got nothing to worry about here."

Well aside from the mind-melting nature of the island itself....

"It's a fairly accepting place and all, if that is what you are worried about."

"Uh huh." Michael gave Dwight another suspicious once-over. "You don't seem to have a stick shoved quite far enough up your ass to be active military, I'll give you that. . . ."

"Will consider that a compliment," Dwight said with a dry laugh. After a moment he broached the other all-important question that usually came up with sudden new arrivals. They had already pretty well established Earth, or at least a version of Earth, as home... so that was a little easier to deal with. For now. "So.... might sound like a silly question but, umm, what year is it for you back home?"

"You checking for a concussion?"

. . . Actually, that could potentially explain how he could forget his trailer getting hauled across the continent.

"2017. President is good ol' bag of dicks himself, and I can count whichever way you want by whatever integer you want even when I'm blackout drunk, so that question isn't going to help."

Dwight couldn't help but smirk at that one. And then sighed because there was never an easy way to bring this point up.

"Well, you might want to sit down or something," he said with a somewhat sympathetic nod. "The island isn't your normal little touristy destination. Time is... is different here. It's late 2022 here actually."

Michael stared at him for a long moment, wishing he could do some of Isobel's mindwhammy tricks ~~already~~.

". . . That's funny. Punk the new guy. I know timezones are a thing, but I'm pretty sure the East Coast isn't five years ahead of New Mexico."

"I know it's a lot to take in. And you don't know me from Adam, I get it," Dwight said simply. "It was an adjustment for me at first, and I thought I had seen my fair share of crazy things back home. Just don't be surprised if you run into some oddities here on the island."

"You really want me to believe that while I slept, my trailer just -- fell through a hole in space and time and landed in a junkyard on the other side of the country?"

. . . Wait, actually that concept was fascinating. Was that how his people had traveled through space? Some kind of portal that they sent their ship through? Michael had always assumed they had perfected some sort of faster-than-light propulsion device to move through the void of space but if they were actually slipping between dimensions. . . .

"Let's just say that is not the most off-the-wall thing to happen around here" Dwight replied simply. "I had a nearly 10-year jump ahead when I came here a little over a year ago. Like I said... it's a unique island."

"Okay, but -- what happened back home?" Michael asked. "Have you just been missing for ten years? Because I gotta say, if my people haven't seen me in five years -- that's not good."

Sure, probably only Max and Isobel would actually miss him -- well, maybe Sanders when he couldn't get old lady Crandall's station wagon working again -- but still!

"I haven't been back home since I got here. By choice. But...." Dwight noted, "I do know people go back at times and time has passed differently back there than here. And sometimes people go back and a new timeline has played out."

Dwight hesitated a moment debating if he should mention this or not.

"It seems from I have gathered that back home, for me, there's another me and everything. It's like I started a branch timeline or something by coming here to the island that is only really affecting me. Not sure that is how it works for everyone though."

"A new -- I'm sorry, they replaced you?"

Michael was now wondering if this big guy was a fellow victim of a government conspiracy, not one of the conspirators himself.

"Don't think 'replace' is quite it. More like... there's two versions of me. oblivious and not interacting with each other." Dwight shook his head. "It's just how I understand it for my 'back home.' It's different for everyone."

". . . Uh huh. You know literally none of this makes sense, right? Except maybe at a quantum level."

He was still reeling a bit from the implications of possible portal travel.

"Oh trust me, I know. We dealt with the odd and bizarre and downright unbelievable quite a bit back home." Dwight gave a small shrug. "It DOES get easier over time. And the island has a lot of people willing to help out a new face."

"Just . . . what, salt-of-the-earth, friendly people, here to help people out?" Michael snorted. "That might be harder to believe than portals in space-time."

Michael understood the quantum mechanics of portals in space-time. Mostly. Or at the very least, it wasn't quite a big a blow to his world view as "helpful people" were.

"We have a mix," Dwight said with a smirk. Now was probably not the time to get into the mind-bending nature of there being gods, demi-gods, demons, and everything between represented on the island. "Most you will find are benevolent or at least objective. It's not all kumbaya but for a small town of oddness its not too bad. And that's from someone who spent many years in a small town of oddness long before ending up here."

"Yeah?" Michael didn't look much impressed. "I'm from Roswell. You wanna talk small towns full of weirdos?" He shook his head. "Well, tell ya what, Dwight was it? I'll go ahead and test this whole 'nice people' hypothesis of yours, and if it pans out, I'll let you buy me a beer."

"Can do ya one better," Dwight offered. "You decide to stick it out for a bit, I'll buy ya that beer and we can swap insane stories of small town weirdos."

“Deal,” Michael decided. “But you won’t beat Grant Green and his UFO Emporium.”

Grant was a very different type of weird than Dwight was talking about.

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Fandom Junkyard and out into the street, Friday afternoon

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