“And how doyou twoknow each other?” Toni pressed, nodding between AJ and Noah.
For a split second, their eyes connected. His were warm and familiar in a way that intensely pissed AJ off. As if they just…lost touch. “We took an improvised Shakespeare class together,” said AJ stiffly. “A long time ago. At the Magnet.”
Noah raised his eyebrows and nodded once, cementing the lie.Good.Why was he even here?
At that moment, Ian returned with a pitcher. As he poured them each a beer, he began his explanation without ceremony.
“You’re here because you’ve just been cast in an unscriptedAstronauticalsprequel. Congrats.”
AJ, Toni, Dave, and Xiaobo all gaped. Only Noah did not seem surprised.
“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” said Dave. “Even if I am just a brain in a jar?”
Ian laughed. “Remember how Fox tapped Em Tyner to do anAstronauticalsproject a while back?” he said. AJ and Dave nodded. Toni shifted in her chair—her interest in sci-fi was limited to the bond she shared with her dad overBack to the Future.
Em Tyner was one of AJ’s favorite show creators. She lovedHaunted High;she loved all his WB shows. She couldn’t wait to see how he’d spinAstronauticalsinto a major network drama. From what she’d read, the prequel was going to be a lot darker than the original.
“Well,” said Ian. “The gist is that Em’s changing his approach to work around the strike.”
Right—no writers. AJ was confused. “Why not just wait until it’s over?”
Ian took a sip of his beer. “They can’t. Fox’s license onAstronauticalsexpires in February. If they don’t use it before then, they’ll lose the new showandall the residuals revenue.”
“So, wait, they want to make a showduringthe strike?” said Dave. “How?”
“By using improvisers,” said Ian, looking meaningfully around the table. “A few cast members who signed on for the scripted version are carrying over—Noah, here, for one. But we’re swapping out the majority of the actors for improvisers who can script themselves. The idea is that you’ll all get a role and a backstory, and we’ll set you loose in a—mostly—contained environment.”
“Like a…murder mystery party?” said Xiaobo.
“Exactly,” said Ian.
AJ blinked in disbelief. Shows likeThe Officeincorporated a fair amount of improvisation, but they still had full writers’ rooms workingbehind the scenes to make everything coalesce. Then again, the originalAstronauticalshad been improvised. Maybe Ezell’s ghost had intervened.
“We’re going to film it like a docudrama and cut it into an arc after,” said Ian.
He laid out the timeline—a month filming on a soundstage in L.A., with a few other locations sprinkled in. They’d start next week.
“Em’s out there already adjusting the set,” said Ian. “It’s going to be an incredible experience.”
Xiaobo was reeling. “I thought this was an audition for the summer showcase.”
“You could have given us a heads-up,” said Toni archly.
“No one knew—apart from Noah,” said Ian. “I wanted to see who played well to an audience—this seemed like the most expeditious way. With the studios shut down, it’s not like we can do test screenings. Not to mention we have no time.”
AJ sat back, stunned.
AnAstronauticalsprequel. A month in L.A. A chance to work withEm Tyner.
“I mean, where do I sign?” said Dave, and they all laughed. “This calls for another round.”
As he and Xiaobo headed for the bar, Noah ducked into the restroom, leaving AJ, Ian, and Toni.
“I still don’t understand,” said Toni bluntly. “How did this even happen?”
Ian’s cheeks reddened as she stared him down. “Em was my roommate in college,” he said. “We gowayback.”
AJ nodded. “And now he wants your dirty bag of unscripted tricks?”
