First Jump to Hyperspace
Bloor Street was glowing like a strip of city starlight in 1977, all theatre lights, passing streetcars, wide collars, and the hum of people lining up outside the University Theatre.
Wells had insisted they get there early.
The University Theatre stood at 100 Bloor Street West, a grand single-screen Famous Players cinema known for major films, reserved-seat events, and a huge auditorium that made going to the movies feel like an occasion. It had opened in 1949.
Wells looked made for the decade. His dark hair was longer than usual, brushed back with a feathered 70s shape, his beard trimmed into something rugged and sharp. He wore fitted flared jeans, a gold-toned open-collar shirt, a brown leather jacket, and boots polished enough to catch the marquee lights.
Felix walked beside him, dressed just as sharp: soft 70s hair, a fitted ringer tee under a casual jacket, slim flared trousers, and sneakers with just enough street style to look effortless. He kept glancing up at the theatre sign like he was trying to memorize the moment before it happened.
“I can’t believe we’re finally seeing it,” Felix said, shifting his weight in the line. “Everyone keeps talking about it like it’s not even a movie. Like it’s some kind of event.”
Wells grinned. “That’s because it is an event, bro. Space battles. Laser swords. Giant ships. Heroes. Villains. Whole galaxy on that screen.”
Felix laughed, but he was buzzing too much to hide it. “You think it’s really that good?”
Wells looked toward the doors, where the crowd kept feeding into the lobby under the warm glow of the University Theatre lights.
“I think,” he said, “we’re about to walk in regular, and come out different.”
Inside, the lobby was thick with perfume, popcorn, cigarette smoke clinging to coats, and the electric sound of people talking over one another. Posters lined the walls. The carpet swallowed their footsteps. Every person seemed to be leaning forward, waiting for something impossible.
Felix nudged Wells with his shoulder. “Best seats you could get?”
Wells gave him a cocky little look. “Obviously.”
They found their row, settled into the dark, and stared at the enormous screen. For a second, neither of them spoke. The room dimmed. The crowd quieted. Felix’s knee bounced with excitement.
Then the music hit.
Wells glanced over just in time to see Felix’s eyes go wide.
The words began to crawl upward into the stars, and the whole theatre seemed to lift with them.
Felix whispered, “Oh, man.”
Wells smiled in the dark.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Told you.”
And when the Star Destroyer thundered across the screen, massive and endless, Felix forgot the theatre, forgot Bloor Street, forgot Toronto entirely.
For two hours, they belonged to another galaxy.
When they finally stepped back onto Bloor Street, the city looked different. The neon seemed brighter. The night felt bigger. Felix walked beside Wells with that stunned grin only a first viewing could leave behind.
“So?” Wells asked.
Felix looked at him, still half lost in hyperspace.
“We’re seeing it again.”
Wells laughed, golden under the theatre lights.
“Yeah, bro,” he said. “Obviously.”
The first jump to hyperspace starts with one choice: step into the Gold, join the brotherhood, and let the Golden Army take you farther than you ever imagined. Contact: @alton-gold77, @polo-drone-125
Featuring: @felix-gold-21
