Marty half-watched through the window, as Griff carefully pointed out all the spots on his car that Biff had missed. Griff’s three sidekicks - a tall, oriental fellow with a shaved head; a girl with long blonde hair, spiked bangs and 3-inch fingernails; and a shorter guy with a tattooed face who seemed to be wearing computer equipment as part of his clothes -all hung around in the background. Marty realised that was another similarity between the two generations. Teenaged Tannens always seemed to have a gang. And Tannens and their gangs always bullied McFlys.
But it didn’t have to happen that way. Marty had changed things, unbalanced the equation, when he had ended up back in 1955. And he had to change things again, now that he was in the future. But how could he, if his future self had gone down the toilet? That strange sense of time-travelling deja-vu was back again, as if being trampled by a Tannen was his destiny, and maybe the destiny of every other McFly that had ever lived.
No. He had to shake himself out of that feeling. Doc had sent for him because he had beaten Biff Tannen in 1955, and he could beat Biff’s grandson now. All he had to do was take it easy and follow Doc’s instructions - and hope there was nothing else here in 2015 that would trip him up. Marty just wished he knew more about how the future really worked.
A rock video came on most of the tiny TVs around him. He recognised the group, Huey Lewis and the News, doing a song called ’The Power of Love’. It was a pretty good song, too. Marty nodded to the beat. He wouldn’t mind just sitting here for a minute, listening to the music and drinking his Pepsi - if he could figure out some way to get the lid off the container.
Well, the music by itself would have to do. At least you could still count on some things.
Three girls in their young teens watched the video along with Marty. They didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm.
‘Oh, shred that!’ one of the girls commented with a yawn. ‘I only scan that kind of vid at my grandma's!’
‘Yeah,’ the girl next to her added, sounding even more bored by the whole thing than the first. ‘What do they call it? Rock and rail?’
The third girl shook her head in disbelief. ‘It doesn’t even sound like music!’
‘Yeah!’ the first girl agreed. ‘Thank god we didn’t have to live in the eighties.’ She rolled her eyes at the video. ‘It must have been terrible!’
Shred that? Terrible? Rock and rail?
Marty wondered what they listened to now, but he was afraid he didn’t want to know. He suddenly felt very old and out-of-place. He looked away from the video screens and the girls who were too bored to bother.
Hey! Now this was more like it. Over in the corner was an old arcade video game called ‘Wild Gunman' that Marty used to play in the Seven-Eleven, in 1985.
A kid of eight or nine stood in front of the game, looking thoroughly confused. The kid glanced up as Marty walked toward him.
‘How do you play this thing?’ the boy asked.
Marty grinned. Now this was something he knew about! ‘I’ll show you, kid. I'm a crack shot at this one.’ He stepped in front of the machine as the kid moved out of the way. But there was something different about this version of ‘Wild Gunman’. For one thing, Marty couldn’t find the coin slot.
‘Where do you put in the quarter?’ he asked. ‘Quarter?’ the kid replied. ‘What’s a quarter?’ Marty had no idea what kind of change they used in 2015. He moved his hand along the side of the game’s console, feeling for something that would take the money. Didn't the coin slot used to be over here?
The game beeped to life as his thumb hit a metal plate. Oh - so that’s what the Reagan robot meant by ‘use your thumb’. The name WILD GUNMAN appeared on the screen, followed by the usual instructions and previous high score. Well, Marty would have to worry about financial questions later. Right now, he had a game to play!
He got into it right away, shooting every outlaw and gunfighter that showed up in the Western town on the screen. He’d give this kid from the future a real demonstration of video talent!
’You mean you have to use your hands?’ the kid whined. ‘That’s like a baby toy!’
Use your hands? Baby toy?
The kid wandered away.
Marty’s hands fell from the controls. He suddenly felt older than old.
He supposed he might as well finish the game. Somehow, it wasn’t the same. His eyes wandered from the video display. He saw himself walking on the other side of the window, right by Biff and Griff's gang, who were all too busy arguing to notice him. He headed straight for the door to the Café 80’s.
Himself? On the other side of the window? Straight for the door? Marty realised he was looking at his future son - Marty Junior!
‘Damn!’ Marty whispered. He couldn't possibly let his future son see him - that could ruin all of Doc’s plans. But his son was coming in the only door that Marty saw in this place.
Where could Marty go?
He jumped behind the counter, dodging the Reagan automatons. He ducked down as his future son walked into the restaurant.
‘Welcome to Café 80 s,’ the Reagan-thing began, ‘'where it’s always -’
‘Pepsi Perfect,’ Marty Junior interrupted before the Reagan image could go into the whole routine.