That idea didn’t sound half bad to me, but I waited for Art3mis to answer.
“As fun as it sounds, I don’t think that will do the trick,” she said, pointing at the inscription on the shard. “？‘Recast the foul,’？” she repeated. “？‘Andie’s fate…’？”
“What about that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?” I asked. “When he catches that foul ball during the Cubs game at Wrigley Field?”
Art3mis seemed mildly impressed by my suggestion. At least enough to consider it for all of two seconds. Then she shook her head dismissively.
“I don’t think so…Recast the foul. Recast the foul.”
Her eyes went wide, and her scowl of concentration transformed into a huge grin.
“I’ve got it!” she cried. “I know what we need to do!”
“You do?” Aech replied. “Are you sure?”
She checked her Swatch again, then turned to glance up and down the empty street. “There’s only one way to find out. We need to catch a ride over to the high school. The bus should be coming by any second now.”
Just as she finished saying this, a long yellow school bus rounded the corner at the end of the street. When it rolled to a stop at the curb in front of us, we could see the words SHERMER HIGH SCHOOL stenciled across its side.
The bus doors swung open and Art3mis jumped on board, then motioned for us to follow her. Another needle drop triggered, and the song “Oh Yeah” by Yello kicked in as the four of us filed onto the bus. Art3mis led us to a pair of empty seats near the middle. Aech sat next to her and I sat beside Shoto. The seats around us were occupied by high school kid NPCs, all wearing 1980s clothing and hairstyles. Each one was modeled after a teenage actor from a school-bus scene in one of John Hughes’s films. I thought I spotted extras from Sixteen Candles and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.
The bus began to move again, and I turned to glance out the window beside me. The sun was rising above the lake to the east. A beautiful spring morning in an upscale Midwestern suburb at the height of Reagan’s America. Period-appropriate cars and trucks—1989 or earlier—filled the tree-lined streets.
“Look at this lily-white hellscape,” Aech said, shaking her head as she stared out her own window. “Is there a single person of color in this entire town?”
“Sure,” Art3mis replied. “But most of them hang out at a place called the Kandy Bar over in Chicago. This planet does have a serious diversity problem—like the whole of ’80s cinema…”
Aech nodded. “Well, maybe the next shard will be hidden in the kingdom of Zamunda.”
“Oh shit!” Shoto replied. “That would be dope!”
Just then, two freshman nerds in the seat directly in front of me and Shoto turned around to face us. At first I thought they were wearing bras on their heads, but they were rocking athletic supporters as headbands instead. In unison, these two space cadets raised their toy laser pistols and fired them at us, and then one of them shouted, “Score! A direct hit!” before they both cracked up and turned back around.
“This place is a nuthouse,” Shoto observed.
I nodded. “With some weird fashion trends.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Art3mis whispered.
A second later, someone across the aisle loudly cleared their throat. We all turned to see a girl with obscenely thick eyeglasses staring at us. She slowly held her closed fist out to Shoto, then opened it to reveal a moist red gummy bear resting in the center of her palm.
“Want one?” she asked. “It’s been in my pocket. They’re real warm and soft.”
“No,” Shoto replied, shaking his head vigorously. “No, thank you.”
“I’ll pass too,” I said.
“Hey, look,” Aech whispered, pointing to a redheaded girl seated near the front of the bus. I recognized her as Samantha Baker—Molly Ringwald’s character in Sixteen Candles.
“Maybe one of us should go wish her a happy birthday?” Aech said, chuckling softly.
“Every day is her birthday,” Art3mis said. “And the morning after it. All the movie simulations on Shermer operate on an accelerated concurrent timeline, with the events depicted in each film repeating over and over in a continuous loop. All these NPCs are stuck in their own private Groundhog Day. Including that poor sweetheart of a girl…”
She pointed to a tall girl who was sitting directly across the aisle from Sam. When she turned in profile, I saw that it was a young Joan Cusack. She was wearing an elaborate neck brace, probably to indicate that her character was an awkward dork. But even in traction, she still looked cute as hell.