Chapter Text
Steady…
As soon as the last drop of solder had settled onto the wires, Emmett set the soldering iron back onto its stand and pushed his goggles up into his hair. He peered at the connection, examining the wires and the board before nodding in satisfaction. The solder fillet was perfectly formed, smoothly concave and shiny, matching the others on the circuit board.
Picking up a screwdriver, he turned to the counter on his right. Atop said counter was some sort of contraption in the process of being constructed, a mix of metal panels and gears strewn every which way. Some of the panels were fashioned together in a rough box-like shape, the top only gently held down. It was this top that Emmett unscrewed, carefully lifting it up with one hand and pocketing the screwdriver with his other. He carefully tucked the wiring and component inside of the box, setting the circuit board into a waiting bracket and pulling out the screwdriver once again in order to fasten it down.
It was finally coming together, this project. The idea had come to him one restless night, as he lay in bed listening to rain drumming on the roof. Why not create a machine that could adjust the weather? And what a boon it would be! For farming, for disaster management—even for the creation of snow days, for children to play outside!
He’d immediately grabbed a notebook and jotted some things down, noting the device’s title as the Environmental Adjuster, and it only took a day or two before he’d come up with complete blueprints for this new creation. There was something about a new idea, the rush of a new invention, that always seemed to fill him with an extra energy to get the work done. It was exhilarating, truly, and he had to admit that he missed it when between projects.
Granted, he never went very long between such projects—and some he even worked on simultaneously—, but still.
At the very least, he was beginning to make some real headway with this project. Dropping the screwdriver into his pocket once again, he reached across his workstation and flipped a few switches on his recorder, allowing the machine to warm up for a few seconds before rattling off the date and time and launching into a long-winded explanation of the mechanics of the Environmental Adjuster. He only paused briefly when he knocked the yet-unattached parabolic antenna to the ground, the clattering disrupting his words—but not his train of thought.
“Now, with all this in mind, it is imperative—mmph—that this instrument remains precisely tuned. Any deviation, any disruption, even the slightest adjustment, could result in unqualified disaster!”
Having stooped to pick up the antenna, he hurried several steps over to his tools and picked up a ratchet before practically flying back over to the counter. “Note the wrench sizing for attaching the antenna. Initial tests will angle the antenna slightly, beginning from horizontal with the concave portion of the antenna facing upwards, with the rightmost rim raised approximately…”
Emmett gave the antenna a hard look, brow furrowed.
“...Approximately twenty-six degrees. Future tests may alter this configuration, particularly given any variance in locational setup.”
The scientist carefully attached the antenna before pocketing the ratcheting wrench, the tool making a slight clunk in his pocket as it met the screwdriver. “Initial testing will begin momentarily.”
Once the top panel had been set back atop the rest of the device, Emmett made sure the wiring in the back was correctly fastened and the gears on the side properly greased before examining the control panel. He trailed a finger along the options before carefully selecting snow.
“The Adjuster is set to produce snow, and has been calibrated to only create a slight atmospheric change,” he hummed, turning away for a moment and putting away the tools from his pocket. “This is to prevent any major dis—”
Something wet hit his shoulder, and he immediately spun around on one heel. His gaze wandered upwards, eyebrows traveling towards his hairline, to find that a large mass of clouds had begun to form along the ceiling of the garage. Raindrops were falling gently from the clouds, which were relatively petite but a rather nasty dark gray.
“Ah. That’s…”
Without fanfare, the miniature storm proceeded to deposit a comical amount of freezing cold rain on the garage floor, the workbenches, and Emmett. He stood there numbly, soaked to the bone, hair sodden and stuck to his face, blinking—as if that would somehow help provide clarity.
“...rather undesirable,” he managed, spitting out a mouthful of water.
The rain was cold enough that Emmett had already begun to shake and shiver, his teeth chattering. His clothes were plastered to his skin from the force and volume of the rain, and he could feel the wetness of his socks—clearly, there had been enough rain, and there was enough water pooled on the floor, that his shoes had been soaked through. He glanced over at the Environmental Adjuster and was at least slightly relieved to see that the machine had shut itself off.
“One small m-m-mercy,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together to try and get some warmth back into them. He cleared his throat a few times, and tried and failed to stop his teeth from chattering, before raising his voice for the sake of the recording.
“The Adjuster was slightly m-m-miscalibrated, it s-s-seems. It pr-produced a very c-c-cold rain that has accumulated on the floor, appr-pr-proximately two inches’ worth—”
“Hey, Doc!”
Emmett turned to face the door, eyes wide.
“M-Marty!”
“I was just…”
Marty, having fully entered the garage, had turned around to see the puddle of water, the slightly-steaming Environmental Adjuster, and the soaking-wet Doc Brown. He paused, staring, uncertain what to make of the scene before him.
“Uh…Doc?”
“I know, I know,” Emmett replied, waving one hand around before going back to trying to warm himself up. “Slight m-m-malfunction of a n-new project.”
Marty shook his head, something akin to disbelief written across his face. He ran a hand through his hair, looking back down at the pool of water, before meeting the scientist’s gaze again.
“Here, uh, lemme get you a towel or something, Doc. You’re gonna get sick if you keep standing there. How about—”
“WAIT!”
Emmett gestured frantically for Marty to stop, waving his arms around. “The d-device is still plugged in! And m-my soldering iron! Be c-c-careful, M-Marty, I d-don’t want you—”
He cut himself off, sneezing violently into one elbow. By this point, he felt decidedly miserable. His hair was starting to frizz back up, but everything else was incredibly damp. His lab coat was stuck to him, his shirt was stuck to him, his shoes were soggy…calling it ‘rather unpleasant’ would have been an incredible understatement.
Marty, however, moved swiftly, crossing the garage and nimbly leaping over the still-slowly-spreading water. He carefully unplugged the Environmental Adjuster, as well as Doc’s soldering iron, receiving a shaky nod from the scientist as confirmation that he was dealing with the correct plugs.
“Hey, uh, Doc? You’re still recording, d’you want me to shut that off?”
Emmett blinked, experiencing the unique sensation of having all of his thoughts move at the pace of molasses being poured from a jar. He stared at Marty for a moment before the teen’s word’s processed.
“Oh, yes, Marty, that would b-be great, th-thank you,” he nodded, before sneezing again. “I’m glad Einstein is asleep, adding a wet d-d-dog to this m-mess would be…well, certainly not ideal.”
“That’s an understatement, Doc,” Marty laughed, slipping away for a moment before returning with a few towels. “Here, c’mon, come sit down and dry off.”
He held out a towel, which Emmett gladly took and wrapped himself in. Gingerly, he sloshed through the puddle until he reached dry floor, where he promptly went about removing his shoes. Marty then steered him toward a waiting chair, a towel already on its seat; as he crossed the garage, he left behind wet footprints.
“I still n-need to clean—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Marty shook his head, making sure the scientist was safely seated before continuing. “Look, Doc, you just focus on drying off and warming up, I’ll grab a mop and take care of the water, okay?”
Emmett smiled faintly and nodded, drawing the towel tighter around himself. He watched as Marty went off to find the cleaning supplies, before sighing and beginning the slightly arduous process of drying himself off.
Some time later found him sitting again, wrapped in a blanket and sipping at something hot that Marty had set in front of him. Changing out of his wet clothes had certainly helped him warm up, and the drink was an added assistance. Marty, in the meantime, was mopping up the last of the excess water, several towels on the floor aiding in the process. Emmett took a long sip from his mug, watching Marty wring out the mop.
“Thank you, Marty,” he called out softly, raising his mug in Marty’s direction as a sign of thanks. “Your assistance is always appreciated, you know.”
Marty looked up from his mopping and grinned, giving Doc a little salute.
“Hey, any time, Doc. Any time.”