“The web,” he answers, “but not the ocean.”
She giggles. He joins her with a chuckle. “You’re Willa.”
She nods.
“This whole thing. What you’ve got going,” he nods toward the others. “It’s awesome.”
“It is,” she says.
“It’s important.”
She doesn’t know what to say.
“We’re at a moment of critical mass.”
“Brad was telling us.”
“Yeah, but now I’m telling you.”
She nods.
“Critical mass,” he repeats.
“Hi! I’m—”
“Philby,” Joe says.
“Right.”
Joe studies Philby. Sizes him up as they shake hands.
“You’re smaller than I thought,” Joe says.
“Am I?”
“Your voice is higher.”
“They made it lower for my DHI. A Disney host thing.”
“I’m a fan,” Joe says.
Philby blushes.
“Of all of you.”
“Of course!” Philby attempts to recover.
“I’m blown away by Wayne.”
“We don’t believe it ourselves,” Philby says.
“Who said I believe it?” says Joe. “Brad sits in front. The rest of you in the back.”
“Yes, sir,” Philby says.
Willa can tell that just slipped out. Philby’s time abroad, living in England, shows up at the strangest times.
Joe points to the private terminal where the pilots are headed. “There are cameras everywhere,” he says. “We’d better get you all in the car ASAP.”
“Cameras,” Philby says.
“Smile,” says Joe.
* * *
Having had no time to talk the night before, the Keepers inundate Charlene with questions about life in L.A. and what it’s like to be a television star. Mostly they’ve been communicating this past year on Instagram and by text, so the excitement of all five of them being together as themselves and not as DHIs is infectious. Charlie is humble about her success on television, perhaps overly so, not wanting to create distance from her closest friends. A slight tension hangs in the air, nonetheless—she is making money, real money, and is on her way to fame, and she carries some of the trappings: her jeans, jewelry, shoes—even her haircut speaks of a lifestyle none of the others can afford. Her attempt to make her life out to be normal isn’t working.
By the time the van pulls through the security gate and the Keepers look out at the Legends terrace where, the night before, all heaven and earth seemed to implode, a brooding silence shrouds them.
They are dropped off. They take their backpacks—their duffels and Rollaboards will be delivered later—and follow Joe as a group.
“I’ll give you the dime tour,” he says. But it’s more a dollar than a dime. The studio lot is laid out like a town, as it appeared the night before to their DHIs; it’s cut up into small village blocks that are home to bungalows, three-story office buildings and, occasionally, a giant soundstage. Finn spots the barnlike Mill at the far end of a street. Everywhere the grass is mowed perfectly. The streets are clean of oil stains and dirt. It’s quiet and there aren’t any people around. Joe points out the commissary where they will eat meals with other Cast Members, takes them inside one of the office buildings, and walks them down a hallway of extraordinary Disney art. The images of Maleficent give them all chills.
Joe explains the history of the studio and Walt Disney Pictures, detailing the lot’s role in dozens of Disney film classics. The Keepers are captivated. They listen. They try to absorb all the information. They laugh. Philby and Willa seem to keep up, to the consternation of the other three. Soon, Charlene is no longer special; she’s just better dressed.
As they descend a set of stairs, Joe explains how the Animation group came to be physically linked by tunnel to the Ink and Paint building. His explanation is lost on every Keeper: they are no strangers to tunnels—the most recent encounter was in the jungles of Mexico. This tunnel is well lit and well organized, but it hardly matters. Finn fights off the ghost of Maleficent transfiguring into a dragon; Philby recalls the server room off the Magic Kingdom’s Utilidor.
“Speaking for the group,” Maybeck says, winning Joe’s attention, “I think it’s safe to say we’re not big fans of tunnels. Creepy dark places seem to attract creepy dark creatures, and note to self: creepy dark creatures are the bad guys.”
“That attitude may need to change,” Joe says.
They reach a thick metal door that hangs on rollers like the door to a horse’s stall. He slides it back, revealing a storage room containing a mishmash of street signs and other Disney memorabilia. He waves the Keepers inside and motions for Maybeck to slide the heavy door shut. Maybeck does so with Charlene’s help.
Against the far wall lean several colorful doors, seemingly left over from movie sets. Two, a red one and a black one, have no hinges and overlap. Beside them lean a purple and a green door, both on hinges and hung in their door frames. Next is a dark blue door. On it is painted a white star with the words MR. DISNEY below it.
Like the others, the blue door leans against the wall at an angle. It is blocked by a stack of furniture atop a heavy-looking library desk with a leather top. Joe prattles on about the history of the storage room, but no one is paying attention. The rolling door thunks into place.
Joe’s tone changes instantly, all the levity and familiarity gone. “Watch your step. And don’t touch anything until we’re inside.” He walks around a large desk and straight through the pile of furniture it appears to be half supporting.
“Holograms,” Willa whispers.
Maybeck reaches out. The library desk is real. The furniture atop and behind it? Three-dimensional projections.
Joe pulls the blue door’s handle up on an angle to open it. “Well, hurry it up! As long as this door is open, the outer door to the hallway can’t be opened. We don’t like that condition to last too long. It can raise questions that are hard to answer.”
“What the heck?” Maybeck asks.
Joe waves them through. “Quickly, please.”
One by one the Keepers move through the furniture hologram, step over the raised and angled doorjamb, and slip through the opening.
Joe calls from behind them, “Welcome to the Crypt.”
The Keepers find themselves facing filing cabinets that stand sentry like soldiers at attention around the room’s perimeter. Long fluorescent lights buzz urgently overhead, as if striving to keep the contents of the room an absolute secret. Each cabinet has a smartly printed label indicating what precious treasure is locked away inside. There is only one door in and out, which has locked immediately behind the Keepers.6 They can feel the history permeating the walls. They are told Walt Disney built the Crypt with money earned from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It’s a kind of Disney museum: each wall is plastered with concept paintings, storyboards, even production art featuring the Overtakers. A corner table bears models of attractions from each of the Disney Parks worldwide, some instantly recognizable; others represent ideas that ultimately went unbuilt. The wall farthest from the door features two gigantic pictures: a painting of Disneyland Park commissioned by Walt Disney in 1953 and an enlargement of a satellite image of the park today. Note cards flag similarities and differences between the two.7 On the wall to their left is an emblem, a shield split into quadrants, each depicting one of the four parks at Walt Disney World: the Sorcerer’s Cap, Cinderella’s Castle, Spaceship Earth, and the Tree of Life. The same emblem adorns the floor where they are standing.8
The Keepers all have varying opinions. Philby appreciates the technology. Finn likes the “magical” side of Disney better—some things are best left unsaid and unseen. Maybeck’s artistic eye is drawn to the models; for whatever reason, he instantly distrusts the place. Willa, the calm of the group’s storm, withholds any comments. As always, Charlene just wants to get sta
rted with the debriefing; she’s a girl of action.9
Pale-skinned Cast Members face computer monitors, eyes awash in the glow of the screens. The attendants are moving. It’s hard to track them, giving the Keepers the sense there are more than eight people here. Maybeck taps Finn on the shoulder and points to an adjacent room that houses a long black table. Brad has moved into this conference room. Finn steps inside and takes a seat in one of the ten swivel chairs surrounding the table. The other Keepers file in.
Brad takes the chair at the head. “Okay. So, let’s get down to business,”10 he says. “What we know and don’t know,” he adds, returning to his favorite theme.
“What is this place?” Maybeck asks.
“Ah, that!” Brad surveys the Keepers individually, expecting someone to volunteer the answer. He resigns himself to the fact that nothing is forthcoming. “What? You thought you were the only ones?”
“The only…?” Charlene asks warily.
“Kingdom Keepers.” Brad allows this to sink in, though it’s apparent to all in the room that it’s going to take longer than a few seconds. “Cast Members—Imagineers, in this case—dedicated to the defense of the realm, if you will.”
Again, he studies each of the Keepers. “Think it through, people. This battle has been going on for—”
“Decades,” Philby gasps.
“Voilà!”
“You said Walt Disney built this…bunker—” Willa says, reminding everyone.
“A long, long time ago,” Brad says. “For a very specific purpose.”
“Defense of the realm,” Finn says.
“No way,” Maybeck says.
Brad nods. “Over fifty years and counting. You, my friends, are but the latest.”
Finn feels light-headed. Why this possibility has never occurred to him, he can’t say. But it never has. He thinks back to Wayne’s introduction of the DHI technology as they sat together on a bench at Town Square in Disney World, Finn unaware that he was a hologram. At the time, he thought he was in a dream, part good, part bad. He feels that same way now. On the one hand, he and the other Keepers are not unique; on the other, they’re not alone. They’ve just been made aware of a support group that has been in place for decades. Finn says, “The Overtakers have been active—”
“Since the start. More or less,” Brad replies. “Sometimes more, sometimes less. Mr. Disney was a visionary, as we all know. He saw it coming. Others were skeptical. There is a fine line between genius and eccentricity. One mustn’t forget that the villains, regardless of their origins in folklore, were the product of Mr. Disney’s imagination. He knew them better than anyone. Knew what to expect. He had the wisdom to build the Crypt long before it was needed.”
“The Crypt,” Finn says.
“I’m sorry.” Brad waves his arm theatrically to encompass their surroundings. “Mr. Disney named a room down the hall ‘the Morgue.’ It houses retired materials that may be useful to the company in the future.”
“Well that’s intriguing,” Philby says.
“It’s believed the Crypt was named because he had a theme going,” Brad explains.
“Cryptology,” Philby says.
“There’s that too—the science of codes.”
“The Overtakers were sending codes,” Finn says. “They were intercepted and Walt knew he had a problem.”
“Who said you were ‘just kids’? Very good, Messieurs Philby and Whitman. Very good indeed.”
“An underground movement,” Maybeck says. He joins the others as they laugh.
“Quite literally,” Brad says.
“Unified against a common enemy,” Finn says. “No one knew that enemy better than the man who created them.”
“The director of the Crypt is…how should I put it? The parks are the company’s heartbeat, the thing that the public associates most with the name. So to assume the position of director, to accept the mantle of defender of the realm, is among the highest callings within the company. To date, only two people have held that title. Mr. Disney and—”
“Wayne,” Finn says.
“Mr. Disney’s protégé. Just a kid at the time. About your age, Finn. But as you know, Wayne had a nose for it. Among Mr. Disney’s many remarkable skills was the ability to spot talent and put it to good use. Mr. Kresky was identified at an early age. He was carefully groomed, I’m sure.”
“So there is no way the Wayne we saw last night is the Wayne you’re describing to us,” Finn says. “He must have been a DHI.”
Professor Philby cannot resist a lecture. “But the first thing the…Crypt…would have done—should have done—is run a data filter through the DHI projection server, blocking Wayne’s data and screening him out, if you get what I’m saying. If he was being projected, that filter would act like antivirus software. At the very least, Wayne’s DHI would have been corrupted; it would have sparked, become transparent, decayed. Or, if entirely successful, he would have vanished, confirming he was a hologram and not a human being.”
“You really are made for this work,” Brad says. “All of you. Precisely, Mr. Philby. And of course, you’re right: that was indeed among the first protocols implemented.”
“And nothing happened. No change,” Finn said. “Wayne stayed right where he was.”
“Easily explained,” says the Professor, “if the OTs have their own server.”
“Finn destroyed it,” Brad says.
“A server, yes. But the only one? We don’t know that,” Finn says.
“A server coming online should have been detected,” Philby says. “Bandwidth drawdown, pixilation anomalies…there are ways to detect such renegade servers.”
“Maybe the antivirus protocol was never run?” Willa says.
Charlene chimes in. “Because there’s someone on the inside. A spy. A double agent.”
Brad’s expression never changes. “You all are so adorable.”
“Impossible?” Finn asks.
Brad doesn’t—or can’t?—answer right away.
“Funny, because Wayne always told us that nothing is impossible,” Finn says.
“It’s the Disney anthem,” Willa adds. “‘Believe.’”
“We all have our jobs to do,” Brad says. “You need to confine yours to the need at hand. You may be interested to know the data screen is in place, and it’s screening your data as well as Wayne’s.”
“Our data?” Philby is not pleased.
Brad responds to Philby’s accusatory tone. “You want the truth? Have it your way! Twice we have data-screened for Wayne, preventing his DHI from being projected. Twice he has reappeared within days, the second time last night.”
“That’s impossible,” Philby fires back.
“Why? What?” Maybeck asks Philby.
Willa answers. “With screens in place to block existing data, the subject’s data would need to be replaced with new information. That means they would need to green-screen Wayne for a second—”
“And a third—” Brad adds.
“Time,” Willa finishes. “Meaning he would have to cooperate.”
“Impossible,” Finn says.
“I thought you were just telling me nothing’s impossible,” Brad says.
It stings. Finn settles back in his chair, wishing they’d never agreed to come out here.
“Wait!” Charlene is the least technology-minded among them. “You’re saying that for Wayne to be projected after you screened him out, he would have had to do all the green-screen stuff we did to become DHIs?”
“Twice,” Philby says, disappointment heavy in his voice.
“So even if he was a DHI last night—which we don’t know for sure,” Charlene says, “he’d have had to be a traitor anyway? We’re talking about Wayne!”
Silence. Finn hears a copier running out in the Crypt. “Well, I don’t believe it.”
“None of us believes it,” Brad says. “But if it isn’t true, then there’s an explanation, and we need it.”
“Torture,” Mayb
eck says. “He could have been threatened or drugged or whatever into doing the green-screen work.”
“Or it was never done at all,” Philby says.
Brad directs his attention to Philby. “Go on.”
“The OTs have found themselves a programmer who can take existing data and codify it. He or she reworks all the ones and zeros into a new set of ones and zeros, creating images so similar to the first that it’s impossible for the naked eye to detect the difference: a change in skin tone and color, a slightly shorter limb, a body that’s thinner, fatter, wider.”
“Very good,” says Brad. “That’s what our people arrived at as well: a single set of data revised just enough to make a new set of data.”
“An algorithm,” Willa says. “Billions of pixels. That kind of thing would need to be automated.”
“So it’s possible,” Finn says more brightly, “even probable, that Wayne had no part in this.”
“Voilà!” Brad says again. “But we need proof, and we need Wayne back. And…well, there’s more, but that’s nearly enough for now.”
“Nearly?” Charlene says. She likes things neat and clean.
“How many of you are up on your history?” Brad asks.
Willa raises her hand sheepishly. Philby, proudly.
“For the benefit of the rest of you, history is filled with examples of technologies developed for good that go bad. Fireworks in China’s night sky three thousand years ago eventually become missiles destroying London in World War II. A search for nuclear power becomes the atomic bomb.”
“This is our problem because?” Maybeck says.
“DHI 2.0,” Brad says. “Seemed like a terrific advancement at the time. Now, come to find out, it’s a projected hologram that can’t be hurt by bullets or Tasers or fire. It’s an indestructible soldier.”
“Being used to combat evil!” Finn says emphatically.
“One man’s evil…” Brad says. “We have unconfirmed intelligence that there are parties seeking 2.0 in order to amass an indestructible army—an army that can suffer no casualties.”
Finn wonders if he should mention that he and the others have discussed this before but decides not to. Brad might believe they gave someone the idea, that one of the Keepers leaked or sold the idea. That there was a traitor among them! There’s been too much discussion of impossibility tonight, Finn thinks. “Wayne is not involved in this!” he says instead.
Kingdom Keepers VII Page 7