The Return: Disney Lands (10 page)

“Do you know how stupid that sounds?” Maybeck said.

“‘It’s about time,’” Philby said. “Remember Wayne’s words.”

“Time for what?” Maybeck said.

“Well, that’s the thing. We thought he meant his watch, right? And he did. We found a bunch of clues on it. But you know how Wayne was. With him, there were levels to everything. So
we follow the clues. I cross over Finn.
Finn ends up returning with a pen drawn on his arm—despite never leaving King Arthur Carrousel. So who drew it, and why doesn’t Finn
remember?”

“And who cares?” Maybeck said sternly. “We’re moving on, right?”

Willa nodded. But only Willa.

“Wayne led us to the music box. The music box led to his message. His message led to Finn’s crossing over,” Philby said, recounting the events
like a trial attorney.
“This was something planned carefully. Elaborately. Now the pen appears on Finn’s arm. Finn loses his memory. And that’s the point when we move on, Terry? Does that feel like
closure to you? If it does, fine. Move on. No one’s going to stop you or Willa or Charlene. But I can’t. Not yet.”

Finn kept his head down, trying to hide his wonder. To hear Philby—of all people,
Philby!—defend him! He marveled at the turnaround. For years the two had been rivals, both eager to
lead the Kingdom Keepers. Now, they were speaking, thinking, as one.

“That sounds so strange coming from you,” Willa said, verbalizing what Finn was thinking.

“So where are you going with this?” Maybeck asked.

“More tests are needed.” From attorney to doctor in less than a minute.
Classic Professor Philby. “More help.”

“Oh, man. Here we go,” Maybeck moaned.

“What kind of tests?” Willa asked.

“There’s an easy way, and a hard way,” Philby said.

“There’s a surprise,” Maybeck said. “For once, just once, can we try the easy way?”

“Not without Joe’s help,” Philby said, checking his watch. He tapped his phone and initiated a video call. The name
Joe Garlington
appeared across his screen.

As the phone started to ring, Philby said, “Let me do the talking.”

T
HE
M
ISSION
: S
PACE
PAVILION
was virtually
empty. With nearly the entire guest population distracted by the greatest nighttime outdoor entertainment show in the United States, the four Keepers
entered and were met by a Cast Member, who’d been sent by Joe.

“Sorry for all the cloak-and-dagger,” the young woman said, addressing Philby. “But as Joe may have explained, given the rushed nature of your request, this was the only
location
in which we could show you the video in complete privacy.”

“We understand.”

She led the way down the ride’s empty exit line.

“As it happens, our simulators accommodate four. They have video and sound. The video you requested will be uploaded directly from Disney Studios. Only you four will see it. Once we close
you in, you’ll have complete privacy.”

“So we don’t actually have
to take the ride?” Maybeck asked hopefully.

“I’m afraid you do. The videos run when the attraction is moving. There just isn’t time to change that synchronization. You will be the only ones riding the attraction. The
other simulators will all be empty. The line is light at the moment. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

They reached a large, circular room rimmed with a dozen simulators. At the
sight, Maybeck went green, and instinctively put a hand to his stomach.

“I get sick on this ride,” he muttered.

“Yes, well, you’re not alone there,” the young woman said, smiling.

“Philby?”

“Get in.”

The attraction was designed to simulate blasting off in a rocket, slingshotting around the moon, and encountering a meteor field. Because of this, the sound track included
messages
from Ground Control to the spacecraft, and the simulator pod moved in a high-speed circular motion while also banking left and right. Normally, the screen would have shown flight images,
including deep space, the moon, and Mars. The jerking, rocking movement of the pod typically coordinated with the story in the video.

But for the Keepers, the view was of Finn, alone, in night vision green
and black, traveling around in circles on King Arthur Carrousel. It was the security video Philby had requested from Joe.
The Keepers watched as Finn moved from horse to horse. The attraction came to a stop. Finn got off. The tape jumped ahead; Finn climbed onto Jingles.

The video was shot at a distance by a stationary camera well hidden from park guests. The carousel looked tiny; Finn was
a little over an inch tall.

Over the sound track that accompanied the roller-coaster movements of the simulator pod—all four kids were glad they’d eaten dinner several hours earlier—Finn shouted,
“This…is…so…weird!”

“Think how we feel!” Maybeck called back.

With Finn’s hologram on Jingles, there was a brief technical problem with the tape. It looked as if a hair or piece of lint
had attached itself right to Finn’s horse.

And then…

Finn disappeared.

Philby noted the passage of time and did some math—counting fifteen minutes and thirty-four seconds—edited from the tape. For a second time, a hair caught on the camera, and then
Finn reappeared, in stark black and green instead of green and black. A fraction of a second later, he flipped back.

Maybeck nearly
puked, but burped instead. By this point, he was as green as night vision Finn.

When the ride finally stopped and the door opened, a man stood just off to the side.

“Brad?” Finn said, his face lighting up. This was the Imagineer who had first modeled the young Finn, Willa, Charlene, Maybeck, and Philby, using a green screen sound studio to
create their DHIs.

“In the flesh,” he said.
“This way, please.”

Brad led them upstairs to an oddly shaped VIP lounge. The space held four lounge chairs and a pair of large beanbags, as well as a bizarre electric-aquamarine coffee table that looked more like
a miniature trampoline. A flat-panel television was mounted high on the wall, opposite the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

“What’s up?” Finn said, once Brad had asked them
to sit down. The door was securely shut, making the whole meeting all the more mysterious.

“You should have told us.” Though Finn had spoken, Brad directed his words at Philby.

“I know.”

“We made those edits tonight. That’s why they were rough.”

“I thought that was the case,” Philby said.

“What’s the deal?” Maybeck asked.

“Do you want to tell them?” Brad asked Philby, catching
him off guard.

“Um.”

Brad asked Finn what he remembered about the carousel ride. Finn checked quickly with Philby, who dipped his chin in the barest possible nod.

“Nothing. Not a thing. Zero. Zilch.”

Brad’s expression froze. He grunted. “Okay, then. I guess we’re done here. Thanks. And sorry for the bother.”

“I don’t think so,” Philby said, winning Brad’s full attention.

“I gave you your chance,” Brad said.

“The lint on the lens.” Philby met him glare for glare.

“What about it?”

Maybeck had risen to his feet; Philby waved him back down onto his beanbag. Slouching and extending his long legs, Maybeck said, “Just in case anyone cares, there’s no way that was
edited tonight.”

“Exactly!” Philby said.

“Exactly what?” Brad asked.

Willa sat up
taller. “Can someone speak English here?”

It was Philby who answered her. “I’m guessing the Imagineers, or maybe the Cryptos, have seen this ‘lint’ before.” He drew air quotes. “It wasn’t
something on the lens.”

Maybeck jumped in. “Which would explain why the dead time was edited out of the video. Why it’s only the important moments.”

Philby: “How many times?”

Brad: “Seven.”

Philby: “Which attractions? No, no! Don’t tell me! Storybook Land, Snow White, Peter Pan’s Flight, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Mad Tea Party—”

Willa: “—Jungle Cruise and King Arthur Carrousel.”

Brad nodded slowly. “Well, well. Impressive, you two.”

Maybeck shook his head. “What about Finn and me? Spread the praise around!”

Finn barely seemed to hear. He was bent forward in his chair,
fingers steepled together in front of his face. “No Autopia?

Philby beamed at him. “Very good!”

“No,” Brad said. “That attraction has no connection to a former work.”

Frustration overwhelmed Maybeck. “Hello!? What’s going on?”

Finn turned to him, his back straightening, excitement dawning on his face. “Willa and Philby listed the attractions on opening day in Disneyland that are
told as stories.”

Philby said, “The Imagineers, maybe the guests, have seen these anomalies, these odd shimmers—this lint—on the security cameras, before. Am I right?”

“You are,” said Brad. “We’ve shut down attractions, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for weeks, trying to analyze what’s taking place.”

“And you came to a conclusion, didn’t you?” Philby said. He sounded impossibly
certain. “Or in Imagineer-speak, a theory.”

Brad pursed his lips. “I think we’re done here.”

“No, we are not,” Finn said. “You are not going anywhere until you tell us what the heck is going on.”

“It’s about time,” Philby said. “That is, time is what it’s about. Time is the subject. Time is what Wayne wanted us to focus on, to understand. To
explore.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves,”
Brad said, frowning.

“Hard to get ahead when we’re so far behind,” Maybeck said. “What is this lint?”

“Cracks. Seams,” Philby said, staring straight at Brad. The Imagineer looked terrified by the direction the conversation had taken. “And what did your team find? Data surges,
occurring just prior to each appearance of the lint. And they found that Wayne Kresky was never seen in public
during those same periods.”

Brad’s face was ashen. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “We shouldn’t be having this discussion.”

“Data surges. Holograms,” Willa said. “Oh my God. Was Wayne self-projecting his DHI? That is seriously risky.”

“What he was attempting was far more risky than self-projection,” Philby said.

Maybeck spoke quickly. “Name one thing more dangerous than not having
someone to help you if the Return fails. That’s Sleeping Beauty Syndrome, but with no one knowing you need help.
It’s suicide.”

“Why would he risk that?” Finn said, shaking his head. “Why take that kind of chance?”

Willa’s voice was so soft that everyone in the room had to strain forward to hear. “Because that’s the risk every pioneer takes.” She was looking at Philby the way Philby
was looking at Brad. It seemed as if no one in the room was breathing.

Outside, the fireworks from IllumiNations exploded loudly and rapidly in the grand finale. Bright light and shadows mixed in the VIP lounge, filling the room until the space seemed to have no
floor, no ceiling. Finn felt as if he were falling.

“Pioneer?” Maybeck choked out. “Like what kind of pioneer?”

Brad
wouldn’t answer, so Philby did.

“The time travel kind.”

The danger of falling could destroy you,
But the price of safety might not be worth it.
³