• • •

Popping static fills the darkness along with stripes of visible static. A close-up image of a set piece then fades onto the screen. Lively music sounds—a mix of trumpets of xylophones—as a disembodied, orotund male voice asks, "What time is it?"

A chorus of voices reply, "Travel Time!" as the words TRAVEL TIME light up from the set piece.

The words fade as the man asks again, "What time is it?"

The sign glows the answer along with the voices: "Travel Time!"

"Yes, it is—" Mimicking the words' blinking lights, the voice grows more thrilled. "—it's Travel Time!"

The image is then zoomed out, revealing the sign to be installed above a humble stage with a curtain as the backdrop.

"And here is our game master," the male voice continues, "Marcos Barbero!"

Now in a wide angle, the game master himself, Marcos Barbero, stands behind a broad podium with a charming smile on his young face. He bows before waving to the applauding audience under the bright stage lights, soaking in the warm welcome. Once he lowers his hands, the applause dies down.

"Thank you, thank you very much," he tells the camera, acknowledging his audience at home. "Welcome to our delightful show here; it is a pleasure to be visiting San Diego for the opening of Pelagica."

Instantly, the curtains behind the stage swing away, revealing a glass display of various types of fish swimming about in the water. The audience displays its excitement for the newest attraction in their city by applauding. Marcos smiles, sharing the emotion in a professional manner. The applause fades and he continues.

"And what better way to celebrate the grand opening than to play a round of Travel Time in the park itself with park goers? I would first like to welcome the first group, the Brady family!" Marcos holds his right hand up to a nuclear family stepping onto the stage. The audience welcomes them through applause.

Marcos turns to them and shakes Mr. Brady's hand. "Welcome to Travel Time."

"It's a pleasure to be here," Mr. Brady responds.

"Would you like to tell the audience where you are from?"

"Right up north in Los Angeles."

The audience claps some more for a quick beat.

"Wow, the home base of Travel Time, yet you traveled all the way down here. You are surely ready for tonight's event." Marcos turns back to the camera. "I would now like to welcome the second group, the Adams family!" He holds out his left hand.

Warm applause welcomes another nuclear family to the stage.

Marcos faces them and shakes Mr. Adam's hand. "Welcome to Travel Time."

"I'm-I'm completely tongue-tied," Mr. Adams exclaims.

Marcos and the members of both families share light-hearted laughter, some members exchanging looks of second-hand embarrassment.

Marcos keeps his calm demeanor on Mr. Adams. "Well, we hope that your tongue becomes untied because you got to be answering questions about San Diego as quickly as you can for tonight." He then glances at both competing families. "Are you all set?" He then lifts his pointer finger. "If I can give one piece of advice before we start, it is to be confident in yourself and your answers. Is that clear?"

The families nod.

"Alright, head to your stations." Marcos waves them off as they disperse to their places out of frame. He then turns back to the camera, holding his pointer fingers up. "We'll take one minute—" The frame closes in on him, cutting out more of the stage around him. "—and we will be back in just a minute after a word from our sponsor."

On cue, the orchestra swells before the recording lights on the cameras surrounding the stage fade out. Under the blooming house lights, Marcos whisks across the stage and enters its wing, dim and narrow compared to the ostentatious front stage.

"Mr. Barbero!" Barry Moore, Marcos's assistant, prances up to him. He is decked in a headset and a clipboard. "You are doing fantastic! We have above-average ratings compared to the last openings of our special edition episodes."

Marcos stays put as a make-up artist flutters up to him and touches up his face using a makeup pad. "That is fantastic," he affirms rather lackluster, most likely to avoid disrupting the makeup artist.

Barry clutches the clipboard to his chest. "If we keep this up, Mr. Williams says we might earn an extra night or two here!"

Marcos looks up to the side as if contemplating. "If we do keep this up, yes..."

"I'll inform Mr. Williams about your interest in extending our stay here." He dashes off before calling out, "We'll do our best; you just keep up your magic!" He then rounds a corner and disappears.

Marcos keeps his mouth in a line as the makeup artist dabs the last bit of powder on his forehead.

"You're all set," she chirps, pocketing the pad in her powder container.

"Thank you, ma'am." Marcos then shuffles around to gaze at the gaping opening to the stage between the wing's curtains. He clasps his hands behind the back of his blazer, his sight becoming lost in the way the house lights shimmer dully against the dark stage flooring.

A familiar tap on his shoulder tears him away from his trance. He whirls around to face Barry.

Barry holds up two hands, his clipboard under his right arm. "Ten seconds." He then backs away.

Marcos clears his throat and faces the stage again. He draws in a deep breath, feeling his muscles loosen and his mind sharpen.

By the sound of the thunderous applause caused by the stage manager signaling to the live audience Marcos's imminent return, it is like they are ready to receive his all as with any other Time Travel episode. But little do they know he is holding something back from them.