Sneak Peek

by Luc Reid

“Two for After Serenity, please,” said William, a linebacker-sized guy with a Beatle haircut. Tucked up against him was a short, copper-haired woman with the face of a Greek goddess. She was looking around Robbie’s modest living room with an air of complete disbelief.

“That’ll be twelve hundred dollars,” Robbie said.

“And a large popcorn.”

“Four dollars. Do you want butter?”

“Is it real butter?”

“It’s an amazing, fat-free, butter-like food from the future. People eat this stuff and have orgasms.”

“Really?”

“No, actually it’s real butter.”

William grinned as he handed over the cash. Robbie made change, locked the front door, and followed William and his date down into the basement.

Several of the patrons milling around in the recently-remodeled basement called out Robbie’s name. Some were settled in the big, faux-leather movie chairs, sipping soda or peering at the DVD case. Others watched Robbie’s 65″ flatscreen TV expectantly. Robbie popped in the DVD and took a seat in the back row, next to the copper-haired woman. She bent over as the preview began, until her lips were almost touching his ear.

“When is this movie supposed to be from?” she whispered.

“It comes out eight years from now.”

“And you got it how?”

“Time travel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You will after you see a few of these movies.”

“At these prices?”

“A guy’s gotta make a living.”

“If you can time travel, why don’t you just play the lottery? Or buy stocks?”

“I’m numerically dyslexic.”

“You’re a big, fat liar.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to lose weight.”

The movie started then, and the copper-haired woman stopped to watch it. It wasn’t as good as its predecessor, but it didn’t have to be. Everyone in the room, Robbie knew, was keenly aware that they were seeing something nobody else would see for years.

Animated conversation broke out over the credits. When the disc was done, Robbie took out the DVD and held it up in one hand. In the other, he lifted a hammer. As the others watched, he dropped the DVD into a steel bowl and smashed it with the hammer. Everyone cheered. Robbie took out a bottle of 12-year-old scotch.

The copper-haired woman peered into the bowl and shook her head while William poured them both doubles. “This is a hell of a way to make a living,” she said.

“Yes,” said Robbie, grinning. “Yes it is.”