The world was brighter.
That was the first thing that Bart noticed about the past. This world some six decades removed from his own was vivid and cheerful and radiant in ways he had never known possible.
It wasn't just that the skies, devoid of perpetual smog and ash, were a beaming shade of blue; nor was it only the distinct lack of rubble and tell-tale signs of devastation everywhere he looked. It was the
people that were brighter, too. Smiles and laughter abound, but even those without still held
purpose and
pasion, regardless of how routine, that had almost entirely been cleansed in the time Bart had come from. Society still fully existed in this period, and with it came light.
They didn't yet know what it was to truly be without hope. To despair beyond belief. To be trapped in a living nightmare where all one could do was struggle and fight to survive to the next Hellish, dark day.
It was a reality that Bart Allen intended to ensure the people of this world would never have to face.
He had first rematerialized five days ago precisely where the time machine had ferried him away from back in the future: Happy Harbor, Rhode Island. Barely a hundred feet outside of a cavern entrance that led deep into a mountain that had once, in the world that had been his home, served as a secret sanctuary of sorts during the various alien invasions that had laid havoc to the Earth.
During the Dominator's occupation, the twisting network of caves had been used by Max Mercury, Richard Grayson, and the rest of the freedom fighters to plan their four-year-long insurgency and later as a staging ground for the final assault that had driven the invaders from the planet. Seven years following, it had functioned as a hiding place for nearly two thousand civilians during the height of Apokalypse's assault on Earth, and six years further still the mountain's caverns had been the headquarters for what became the Young Justice League.
Now, it fulfilled its role as the birthplace for Bart's new life in the past.
He had wasted no time upon exiting the contraption that had shunted him through time. Immediately, Bart set about dismantling the device just as Max had instructed him to, rushing each component he stripped away to various sections of the Harbor and discarding them thousands of feet into the bay. It was of the utmost importance, he had been told, that no one could ever find any of the future technology the time machine had utilized, so Bart had taken the extra precaution of speedily pulverizing certain pieces until nothing remained but dust.
In the several days since, Bart had spent his time acclimating to his new surroundings. At least, as best as one could acclimate when they were racing across the continental United States at subsonic speeds. The time-displaced youth had been doing his best to adhere to Max's guidelines, and not revealing himself unless necessary was second only to avoiding "needlessly contaminating the timeline" as the elder speedster had put it. So, Bart was doing all of his sightseeing with powers engaged.
He had already visited several American cities that had been annihilated in his time. New York and Metropolis, Chicago and Fawcett, Keystone and Central; all were rubble the last he had seen them. Now, they were sprawling hubs of civilization that practically danced with activity. Bart had observed more people in Fawcett City in a single hour than there had been in all of the Eastern United States in the year 2030.
To go along with his tourism, Bart had also been partaking in some careful liberation of items throughout the country. Clothing, food, blankets, and the like. Nothing of genuine importance and mostly taken from those who would not be in dire need without them. Excluding, perhaps, a tempting blueberry pie that had been sitting out on a windowsill the previous day. Not a necessary meal by any means, but it was hungry work running across the United States at speeds even jetliners would be envious of, and he was, after all, a growing boy.
He would run for an hour, then explore for a handful more, before pilfering some food to restock his energy reserves, after which he'd bunk down in some isolated field far away from towns and prying eyes. Each day, he repeated the process. This was the fifth since he had arrived, and by his estimations, he was only about six hundred miles from his destination. By evening, Bart would arrive on time at the location Max had drilled into his head.
Of course, the speedster could have easily made it there, completely on the other side of the country from where he had begun, in less than an hour. Less than ten minutes, actually, if he really pushed himself. However, breaking the sound barrier near populated areas was never an ideal situation, let alone reaching hypersonic rates. In his time, achieving supersonic speeds had rarely been something he had to concern himself with. Most things that could be damaged from the pressure wave when going supersonic were already destroyed in the future, and human beings were so sparse that there was seldom a danger if Bart chose to stretch his legs a little.
Here, in 1968, that wasn't the case. Even traveling across the midwest with its vast open fields, the sound waves he would leave in his wake while running at such speeds could easily damage crops and cattle if nothing else. With an entire timeline at risk, Max had warned Bart of taking such chances with the butterfly effect.
So, Bart made sure he never reached speeds approaching Mach 1, and thus his journey was much longer. Not that he minded much, truthfully. Even running at barely 600 miles per hour, it would have taken less than half a day to reach the West Coast. Instead, he had used the excuse to move extra leisurely so that he could truly take in the wonder that was the past.
Besides, according to Max's plan, Bart had until January 6th, 1968 at 7:58 PM to be in place. At that time, and no earlier, would the first event occur the young man was instructed to change. Therefore he saw no harm in taking in the sights and appreciating a
normal world until then, even if he could not actively enjoy the normality himself.
He had a little over eleven hours until then and intended to make every use of that time.
So, as he crossed the California borderline, Bart wondered if he could find another blueberry pie to borrow.
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