He navigated to the page where he could manually cause a Return—the same set of instructions that were used for the fob when inside the Parks—and typed from memory Willa’s twenty-six-character ID string.
The window flashed. He’d lost the handshake.
He double-checked the data card connection—all was good—and reentered the URL, ready to start over. He reached the log-on page and reentered his password.
INCORRECT PASSWORD: ACCESS DENIED
Believing he must have typed too fast, he tried again.
INCORRECT PASSWORD: ACCESS DENIED
Now he had real problems: a third failure in a row would mean he’d be blocked from trying to enter a password for twenty-four hours. Willa didn’t have twenty-four hours. Wondering if it might be a problem with Hugo’s data card, Philby decided that the only thing to do was to get to the DHI server in person and make an attempt at the password from there.
He texted Finn:
major problems. password not workin. call emergency meeting
The rest of the school day dragged on impossibly slowly. Several times Philby debated skipping, but he’d never done that in his life and he had no desire to be caught and grounded for eternity. That would make matters even worse for everyone. Especially him. He traded back computers with Hugo before seventh period, thanking him.
He and Finn, Maybeck, and Charlene met at the Marble Slab ice cream shop. Charlene told them about the confrontation with Sally Ringwald. She’d been too hyper to catch every last word, but she gave them all she could remember. “Amanda will have the full four-one-one,” she said, “but what’s important is that Sally is definitely under some kind of spell, there’s lots more where she came from, and something big is going down on Saturday. For what it’s worth.”
“We’ve got to move on,” an anxious Philby said. “Willa…” It came out as a moan. “The point is, the server password’s not taking,” he explained. “Basically, I’m going to be locked out of the server if I try it remotely again, so I’ve got to make it count.”
“Why wouldn’t your password take?” Maybeck asked.
He was met with three blank faces—one of them with strawberry ice cream on both corners of her lips.
“If it’s the Imagineers’ security kicking in,” Philby said, “it’s not so bad—maybe someone would help us. But somehow I doubt it with everything that’s been happening. I’ve been thinking about it all day. I lost the connection after I first logged on. I thought it was the data card—you know, like a cell phone dropping out. Happens all the time. But it’s possible…maybe not probable, but possible…that my keystrokes were captured. It’s possible that the system was reset right after I’d logged on in order to break my connection. By the time I was back on, my password had been removed, my back door closed.”
“The OTs,” Charlene said.
“Yeah. They could have been waiting for me.”
Finn quoted the Kim Possible mission: “‘Everyone needs a server now and then.’ You think Wayne was trying to tell us the OTs had hacked the server?”
“They didn’t like that you came and got me,” Charlene said. “They aren’t about to allow that to happen again.”
“So they ambushed us,” Maybeck said.
“Without access, without control of the server, we can’t cross over,” Philby said. “The only way we can help Willa is to Return her. We’ve got two choices: we can either hack back into the server, or we can go into the Parks, try to find her, and then use the fob to Return her.”
“Good luck,” Maybeck said. “We don’t know which Park. We don’t know where she is in whatever Park she’s in. That could take years.”
Maybeck’s DHI had been locked up in a maintenance cage inside Space Mountain. He might never have been found there.
“If I hack the server, we’ll know which Park she’s in,” Philby reminded. “The activity log will tell us.”
“But,” Finn said, “in order to see the activity log we—you—have to hack the server. So we have to get to the server as us. Not DHIs. Right? I mean, we can’t cross over because we’ve lost access to the server, which is the whole point.”
“Right,” Philby confirmed. “We go in as us. Hopefully, I get us back online. After that we can cross over, if that’s what we have to do.”
Maybeck cursed and pushed away from the table, disgusted. “This rots,” he said. “We’ve got to get her back. What are we waiting for? We can use our employee passes. We get Philbo into the server room and let him do his thing. If the Return doesn’t work from there, we go into whatever Park and we get her back. I’ve been there—in the Syndrome. So have you, Philbo. It sucks. We’ve got to do this.”
Wayne had supplied them with employee cards that allowed them to enter the Parks as Cast Members. They rarely used them, keeping them for this kind of emergency.
“My mother expects me home,” Charlene said. “I have an orthodontist appointment this afternoon. I could sneak out later, but if I miss that appointment she might start calling your parents.”
“Jelly will cover for us,” Maybeck said. “She knows what it’s like to have a kid stuck in the Syndrome. Trust me, she wouldn’t wish that on anyone. You can all tell your ’rents you’re coming to my place to study for an exam.”
“We aren’t in exams,” Philby pointed out.
“Yeah, okay. I got you. But you think your parents know that?” Maybeck said.
* * *
Ariel had come and gone, but basically stayed through the night with Willa on the water tower. With the sunrise she moved Willa through water pipes to what she called “the grotto.” As a DHI, Willa was stuck in her pajamas, which was going to make it a problem to blend in. She spent the day in hiding, hatching a plan.
If she were going to Return, she needed the all-important fob. But the fob was currently hidden in Epcot, and she’d been sent into the Studios. Between the two Parks was a sea of DHI shadow—an area that lacked DHI projectors. This would be to her advantage: DHI shadow meant she’d be invisible for most of the path that connected Epcot to the Studios. As long as she could get out of the Studios without being spotted, this was doable. She’d get over to Epcot, find the fob, and Return. The nightmare would be over.
“I can do this,” Willa told herself. She’d leave the Studios at sunset when the light was soft and her DHI qualities more difficult to spot. The occasional sparkle. The blue outline.
Home. Her bed. Her mom. Almost too good to be true. She couldn’t wait.
The Parks experienced a big turnover around dinnertime: kids got tired; adults got hungry. Epcot was an evening favorite—terrific food and a spectacular fireworks display. Entering Epcot would not be easy: she had no pass or ticket, no money, and worse, she was a hologram wearing pajamas.
“I’m leaving,” she told Ariel. “I’m going to try to get out of the gates without being seen.”
“I can help you.”
“You’ve done so much for me already. I’ll be fine.”
“I can pose for photographs and autographs, provide a distraction. A diversion, I think Eric calls it.”
It was the first time she’d mentioned Eric.
“So he’s…real? I mean, as far as characters go.”
“Eric?” Ariel blushed. “Oh, he’s very real. As real as real can be. But they keep him in the Magic Kingdom.
He’s part of the stage show there. In front of the castle. We rarely see each other.”
Willa wondered if there was another Ariel in the Magic Kingdom, or if that one was only a Cast Member. Wondered if Eric had all the mermaid company he wanted, while she sat here pining for him.
“A diversion might help.”
“Consider it done.”
“Don’t you need a handler to make an appearance? Someone who takes care of you?” Willa asked.
“The handlers come and go, dear girl. Who’s the one who’s been doing this all these years? I think I can manage.”
“But won’t you get in trouble?”
“That’s the idea, isn’t it? The more trouble, the better the diversion.”
“I can’t let you do that for me.”
“Actually, you can’t stop me,” said Ariel. She was beaming. “I haven’t had this kind of fun in…well…probably longer than you’ve been alive.”
Willa looked at her—Ariel was maybe sixteen or seventeen. “You never get any older.” She hadn’t thought of what it was like to be a character, not a Cast Member. The characters didn’t change, while the Imagineers, handlers, and staff came and went. Year after year, it was the same shows, the same posing for photos and signing autographs. It had to drive the characters half-crazy. No wonder the Overtakers were rebelling.
Ariel hung her head, clearly saddened by the reminder.
“No,” Ariel said. As she looked up, a coy grin played across her face. “Not older, but I do get wiser.”
* * *
Ariel’s appearance at the front gate did the trick. Excited guests encircled her, winning the attention of Security guards. Willa joined the mass of departing Park visitors and left the Park unnoticed.
Soon she was walking in the direction of Epcot. Most everyone else rode the monorail or the buses. Only she and a few others walked. When Willa noticed her hand and arm sparkling, she stopped to let others pass. She had reached the edge of the DHI projection coverage. A few more yards and pieces of her image would decay, leaving holes in her, or missing limbs. She would be human Swiss cheese, and would likely have guests either lining up for autographs, or calling 911.
So she moved up into the flowers and shrubs that hid a cyclone fence. Remaining amid the plants, she continued on, paralleling the sidewalk. Her elbow and part of her shoulder disappeared. Her left leg, from the knee down, vanished. For a moment, she was a set of headless pajamas. Finally, she vanished completely.
DHI shadow was a weird state: she could hear, though not touch. She could see, though narrowly, as if though a camera lens. Whatever this state was technically, it wasn’t perfect. Once while in DHI shadow she and the others had been able to pick up sand from the floor of a tepee. There seemed to be exceptions to the physical laws of nature. Philby explained these as having to do with the survival instinct, comparing them to a mother picking up and moving a car that pinned her child, or a father heaving a slab of concrete aside as if it were Styrofoam.
Back on the sidewalk now, in full DHI shadow, Willa picked up the pace, walking faster. She approached a family coming at her and moved into the grass to avoid them.
One of the two young kids, a girl no older than eight, let out a yip.
“Ghosts, Mommy! Ghosts! I heard a ghost!”
“Oh, shush, Ginny,” the woman said. To her husband she complained, “I told you that ride would scare them!”
He mumbled something as they continued on.
A chill passed through her. How many times as a child had she felt a ghost in the room? How many times, when taking the trash out at night, had she felt someone watching through the dark? For how long had DHIs been around? she wondered.
Her hologram began reappearing as she neared the BoardWalk. Her image sparkled and sputtered. Some kids pointed at her, making fun of her pajamas. A couple of girls recognized her as a Disney Host Interactive from the Magic Kingdom. They approached her for her autograph. Willa explained DHIs couldn’t sign autographs, and allowed the girls to wave their arms through her.
Free of fear and still in her DHI state, she strayed off course a few minutes later and walked through a fence, joining a roadway behind the Eiffel Tower.
It was only a matter of reaching the fob now. Dusk had settled. It would soon be dark. She was perhaps a quarter mile from the fountain plaza. From the Return. From home.
She set off in that direction in determined strides.
WITH ONLY AN HOUR TO GO before the Magic Kingdom closed for the night, Finn, Philby, and Maybeck used the employee passes to enter, which didn’t register on the computer system and allowed them to avoid the front gates. Operations Management prohibited them from entering any of the Parks as themselves without prior approval, and now they risked being spotted. For camouflage, all three wore as close to the same clothes as their projected DHIs wore. This way, they’d be mistaken as their own Disney Hosts. But they weren’t perfectly identical costumes: Maybeck had, for some reason, chosen a pair of dark socks; Finn no longer owned the running shoes he’d worn when modeling for his DHI so he was wearing the black ones he’d colored with a Sharpie.
They walked slowly, side by side, behind the buildings on Main Street in the direction of Cinderella Castle. They appeared relaxed and self-confident, never a problem for Maybeck.
As they happened past other Cast Members they heard comments trailing behind them like, “Can you believe how real those things look?” The three fought to keep smiles off their faces.
The Magic Kingdom had been built atop a series of interconnecting tunnels called the Utilidor. Through these tunnels passed Cast Members and electric golf carts that served as small trucks. Control of the Park’s technology was handled from offices in the Utilidor, which included a massive computer server room, the brains of the Park. This was the Keepers’ destination.
Multiple backstage Cast-Member-only entrances to the Utilidor existed throughout the Park. As the three approached the entrance just behind the Main Street ice cream parlor, Maybeck blocked Finn and Philby, pushing them back against the wall.
“Pirates!”
Finn and Philby spotted them: a pair of pirates casually talking in front of a double doorway up ahead.
“That’s the door to the Utilidor,” Professor Philby said.
“Overtakers?” Finn said.
“Must be,” Maybeck agreed. “They’re guarding the entrance, just in case we come along to spoil all their fun.”
“We could try the entrance by Splash Mountain,” Finn suggested.
“We’d have to cross the entire Park to get there,” Philby said. “And if these guys are guarding this one, others are probably guarding that one, too.”
“We need another way in,” Maybeck said.
“How do you guys feel about getting filthy dirty?” Finn asked.
He led them through the crowded parking lot, staying as far away from the pirates as possible. As they neared a full-length mirror at the Cast Member entrance into the Park, a foul smell overpowered them. A message on the mirror read Make it a magical day for our guests!
* * *
“What the…?” Maybeck said. “Stink…eee!”
“Shh! Keep your voice down,” said Finn. But the constant roar to their right covered their voices. He led them toward that noise: an area just before Cast Members entered the Park, tucked behind a plywood screen with empty cardboard boxes piled in a corner and a large pipe, three feet in diameter, sticking out of the concrete.
“Brilliant!” said Philby as he realized where they were.
Maybeck focused on the pipe. It had a weighted lid and was surrounded by warning signs. “No way,” he said. “You are not getting me down there.”
“That’ll work,” said Finn. “We need you to stand guard. We all have our phones.”
“I wouldn’t count on ours working down there,” Philby cautioned.
“Macbeth,” Finn said, trying to get back at Maybeck for all the nicknames he called him, “will stay up here to keep an eye on the pirates. You’ll text us if you see any change in them, because it may mean trouble for us. Philby and I will try to get to the server room.”
Maybeck said, “So I text if I see something awkward up here. Is that all?”
“No,” said Philby. “You see this red stop button?”
“Kind of hard to miss,” Maybeck said. The plastic emergency button was huge.
“If you hear the system restart, then you hit that button.”
Finn added, “We’d rather not get sucked through the system and spit out into the compactor. It’s up to you to see that doesn’t happen.”
“Could
be bad for our health,” said Philby. “As in, fatal. The wind generated to suck the trash out of the Park reaches sixty miles an hour in the pipe. That’s almost hurricane speed.”
“Got it,” said Maybeck. “Hit the red button. Kill the wind.”
“Seriously,” Philby said.
“Red button. Easy enough.”
“Okay then,” Finn said to Philby. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” said Philby.
Finn punched the red button. The roar ground to a stop.
Philby lifted the heavy lid and the smell intensified.
“Glad it’s you guys going down there and not me,” Maybeck said, pinching his nose.
“We won’t have long,” Philby warned. “Engineering Base over in the Studios will see a warning that the system’s down. They’ll try a restart before anything else.”
“So…I’ll go first.” Finn’s only other time in the trash system had been a long time ago. Maleficent had been chasing him. He’d been terrified.
He climbed over the sticky edge into the steel pipe, while Philby and Maybeck held open the lid. Maybeck’s face was puckered in disgust as the putrid odors of rotting trash wafted up.
Finn let go and dropped. He fell a few feet, landing in some wet slop at the bottom of a similar-size steel pipe that ran parallel with the surface. A tunnel within the tunnel.
“Out of the way!” Philby said.
The pipe was too small to crouch and stay on two feet. Finn was forced to drop to hands and knees amid the sticky, disgusting goo of old garbage.
He called back coarsely, “You might want to get your flashlight out before you put your hands in this stuff.”
Philby dropped in behind him, flashlight on. Finn’s shadow spread before him amid the garbage and debris that adhered to every inch of the pipe—wrappers, crushed cups and cans, chewing gum, rubber bands, grotesque rotting remnants of former meals, banana peels, turkey leg bones, and every kind of plastic container ever made, most of them unrecognizable. The smell only grew worse the farther they crawled. Finn held his breath for as long as possible, but an inhale was inevitable, and when it came, it tasted like he was eating trash.
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