“This is a cardboard recycling station.”
“Yeah? So?”
“It’s closing time. Everyone wants to get home. You think anyone’s going to look twice at a couple of kids coming down the hall wearing cardboard boxes?”
“I like it!”
The boys snuck around to the side where dozens of collapsed cardboard boxes leaned against the wall. Philby sized up two of them, and the boys reassembled them, overlapping the flaps to make them square and sturdy again. Philby then tore sections out of the flaps: one for Finn’s neck, and one for each of his legs on the opposite end of the big box. It was marked doritos. Philby’s was sun chips. They got past the machinery, and Philby quickly helped Finn into his box so that it hung on his shoulders and ended just above his knees, making walking awkward. Philby climbed into his box, but had trouble getting the bottom flaps closed. Finn tried squatting but it did no good—he was just a big cardboard box. Finally, Philby gave up. His box hung from his shoulders with his head sticking out, but the bottom flaps hung down, moving with his every step.
With Finn walking awkwardly in the lead, the two boys moved out into the thirty-foot-wide Utilidor tunnel joining dozens of Cast Members. Philby had been right: no one gave a pair of moving boxes a second thought.
Twenty yards later, they reached a set of windows on their left. Venetian blinds drawn from the inside. They walked past.
“The server room,” Philby hissed from behind.
Finn didn’t need to be reminded. He’d been here more than once. The last time, a certain green-skinned fairy had been here as well.
Philby tried to get his eye to the window at the edge of the blind so he could see through, but the box was too big and it blocked him from leaning in close. He turned to the side, but again the box blocked him from seeing in.
Suddenly, the door swung open. Finn spun around and said to Philby, “Here, I’ll fix it for you.” He spun Philby and his box around, mainly to hide their faces.
Three Cast Members came out of the server room, saying good-night to each other. Two of them wished the other a good vacation, and the man thanked them. Finn turned back as the door was shutting. He got a look into the room, seeing no one. But then, reflected off the door’s safety glass, he caught sight of a man at a desk.
“There’s still at least one guy in there. At a desk over on the far side of the room.”
“Well, we can’t just stand around here. We’ve got to do something.”
Finn said, “The smells coming out of this box are going to make me puke. We’d better keep moving.”
The boys continued on toward an exit where people dressed in street clothes were leaving. Golf carts laden with everything from bottled water to Pirates of the Caribbean muskets streamed past. The Magic Kingdom was shifting into maintenance mode. Stores and restaurants would be restocked. There would be painting and carpentry, cleaning, and polishing carried out within the Park for the next several hours. The boys had to reach the server, gain access, determine which Park Willa was in, and launch a rescue attempt. Every second counted.
Behind them, the server room door opened and two men came out. The second one checked to make sure the door was locked, and the two said good-night.
“Can you manage all clear?” Philby asked.
“Maybe for a few seconds.”
“Unlock the door and let me in.”
Finn nodded. They stood in front of the door. Willa needed him, Finn reminded himself. He closed his eyes and pictured the train coming. When he opened them again, the blue line shimmered around his filthy sleeve. He stepped through the box and the closed door into the server room. The lights were off. No one was there. Good.
Ten seconds later, he watched the blue line fade until it was gone. He reached out and unlocked the door for Philby.
A few minutes later, two cardboard boxes were discovered by a cleaning crew outside the server room. The cleaners picked up the boxes and carried them to recycling, while on the other side of the wall two nervous boys waited for them to pass.
“We’re in,” Philby said.
* * *
Jess sat upright in bed. While dozing over homework, she’d had the kissing dream again. The same steps in the background. She shuddered, feeling guilty and somewhat creepy. Finn was a good enough guy, but she didn’t think about him like that. She felt a little sick to her stomach. No matter how this went down, it couldn’t be good for anyone.
Her reaction was automatic and immediate. Once again she reached under her pillow and came out with her diary. She switched on her book light and flipped through the pages to the earlier sketch. There were details about the stairs to add: they stepped down left to right and—here was the weird part—weren’t equal in size. Bad perspective, she thought, or out of scale. She sketched in some planting that looked familiar to her, though she couldn’t place it. She added some texture to Finn’s face; he looked incredibly lifelike. Filled in his shirt with stripes. Modified the tailored shirt she was wearing in the sketch, only to realize it was a shirt she didn’t like very much. She lent it to Amanda more often than she wore it herself.
Well, there’s a solution, she thought. If she avoided wearing that particular shirt, then she wouldn’t be wearing it in the future. If she didn’t wear it in the future, then she wouldn’t kiss Finn.
Relief flooded through her. So simple. It all came down to avoiding that shirt.
* * *
“Here’s something to think about,” Philby said, standing alongside Finn, facing row after row of library-like shelving that held stacked computer servers, Ethernet routers, modems, power supplies, and wireless boxes, all blinking a constellation of colorful lights. “If the OTs are messing with this stuff, this is the time they mess with it: after the Park closes. We may not be alone here for long.”
“Way to cheer me up. Thanks,” said Finn.
Philby reached the DHI server, the electronic brains responsible for both generating their images and communicating those images to an array of Park projectors within the Magic Kingdom. It also tied to other DHI servers through fiber optic lines, in the Animal Kingdom, Epcot, and Disney’s Hollywood Studios.
Philby pulled out the tray holding the server’s keyboard and entered his back-door password. The system rejected the password.
“I thought it was a data transmission problem,” he said, half talking to himself. “There’s no attempt limit from the hardwired keyboard, only with remote access. I thought if tried my password from here I’d get in. But that’s not working. What I know for sure is that if I tried remotely and failed three times in a row, remote access would be denied for twenty-four hours. An alarm would be sent up-line. Engineering Base over in the Studios would see the hack attempt and probably notify Security. I’ve got one more remote try, but I know it’s not going to work. It’s the OTs. They were waiting for me.”
“You don’t actually know that.”
“You think it was the Imagineers? Wayne sends me a warning, then locks me out of the server? I don’t think so.”
“So what about Willa?”
Philby just stared at the screen, fuming. “The fob should still work for a Return—it’s sent wirelessly over the cell-phone frequency, a whole different subsystem than a manual Return. But it’s not going to be easy finding her.”
“You gotta get us into this machine.”
“Tell me about it. Okay. Give me a minute.” He laced his fingers over his head and closed his eyes.
“I can help out,” Finn offered.
Philby sat very still for several minutes. Finn grew increasingly impatient but said nothing.
“Okay,” Philby said, standing and moving down the aisle. “Let’s assume the OTs phished for my password, stole it, and then erased it. That would explain resetting the server and my losing the data connection. That would mean they can now access the server remotely, same way as I did. But,” he said pulling, out his phone, “if I try to access it one more time remotely and I fail, any remote
access will be blocked for twenty-four hours, including theirs. That’ll leave the only access from here—this keyboard. But the OTs are not the only ones who can access this server.”
“The Imagineers,” Finn said. “Engineering.”
“Yes. SOP,” he said, meaning standard operating procedure, “for an attempted raid on a server would be to send Security first and someone from Base, second. The Security guy makes sure the room’s clear. The guy from Base checks the server, runs virus-scanning software, studies and prints the log.”
“So?” Finn said.
Philby was already unplugging and collecting wires from the backs of other computer servers. Finn followed along like a lost dog.
“So we need the guy from Base to access the server,” Philby continued.
“I think we established that.”
“He has to enter a password,” Philby said. “The system’s master password is the only thing that can override a lockout. Look for a camera.”
“What?”
“A webcam. Usually little round balls about the size of a golf ball.”
“I know what a webcam looks like,” said Finn.
“So find one.”
“Where?”
“This is a giant room devoted to computers, and only computers. Somewhere in here are Security web-cams as well as personal webcams. Just find one!”
“You’re telling me Security can see us?”
“Probably. Could be. But there are hundreds, probably thousands of cameras around the Parks. They’re not going to focus on here unless we give them reason to. Until we give them reason to. That’s why I haven’t tried the password for the third time. First, we need a camera.”
The boys split up to search.
“Is that one in the ceiling?” Finn called out.
“Yeah, probably. But it’s too hard to deal with.”
Finn kept looking, ducking down another long aisle of stacks of electronic gear.
“Somewhere here,” Philby said, “There has to be…aha! I’ve got it!”
He’d found a freestanding webcam alongside a keyboard at one of the desks. He traced the USB cord and unplugged it.
When Philby got on a roll, there was no stopping him. His actions became frantic as he hurried with the webcam back to the DHI server. He dragged a chair into place, climbed up onto it, and placed the webcam on the top shelf, wedging it between a pair of speakers.
“Run the wire down the back there,” Philby directed Finn.
Finn did as he was told. Together, they worked furiously, running wires, changing the position of the camera. Finn still didn’t know what Philby was up to.
Philby double checked his phone and said, “No cell service, but it’s a good Wi-Fi signal down here.”
Philby handed his to phone Finn. “Can you see my hands?” he said, placing them on the keyboard.
Finn viewed the phone’s screen. It was the video image from the webcam Philby had installed. It showed the keyboard and Philby’s hands.
“Unreal,” Finn said. “Yeah, your hands and the keyboard.”
He took his phone back. “Check the cold room for hiding places,” he said, referring to a second server room with which the boys were familiar. “Room for both of us. It has to be good. We can’t be found.”
Finn entered a small room crowded with big, lumbering machines. The bigger and more sensitive electronics ran more efficiently when kept extremely cool. He found space behind a computer the size of vending machine.
“I’ve got something,” he called out.
“Stand by!” Philby called back. He used his phone to make a remote connection. He then tried his password for the third time. The computer bumped the access page and warned that access would now be denied for twenty-four hours.
He glanced at his watch. Given the past history of the DHIs and this server, he gave Base five minutes to respond.
* * *
It took only three minutes. A Security woman named Joyce Brighton, who’d worked Security for eleven years, the past three in the Utilidor, entered the server room with a cup of coffee in hand.
She glanced around, well aware that false alarms outnumbered real ones 20 to 1.
She surveyed the empty room, and reached for her radio. Then she stopped.
What on Earth was that foul odor?
It smelled like a Dumpster.
* * *
Philby and Finn remained hidden behind the towering rack of servers when the door to the supercooled room opened. Over the steady sound of the air conditioning and the computer fans could be heard a nose sniffing. Philby looked down at the brown muck and pieces of food and litter adhered to his clothing. Unfortunately, he’d already grown accustomed to the foul odor. Clearly the guard had picked up on it.
The nose worked the air in short little sniffs. The sound moved toward the two boys.
“What in heaven’s name is that smell?” said a woman softly to herself.
The guard reached the towering enclosure they hid behind.
“Ah-ha!” the guard said.
She tried to squeeze herself between the two enclosures. Finn and Philby had slipped through; judging by the sounds she was making, she was not a perfect fit.
“Joyce, what’s your twenty?” a male voice said over her radio. “Fresh coffee when you’re ready.”
The woman guard stood there, basically stuck between the two metal enclosures. She was maybe two feet from Philby. Her hand shot out from the gap, and nearly touched him as she tried to get to her radio. After a second try, she backed out into the main part of the room.
“Pour me a cup. I’m on my way. Tell Base that Data Operations is clear. They can send their guy over.”
* * *
The “guy” was not a guy at all, but a woman from Maintenance who arrived from the Studios in less than fifteen minutes. Philby had Finn hold the phone while he watched the image from the webcam. A pair of delicate hands appeared in frame and typed in a sixteen-digit string alphanumeric password. Philby knew what to watch for: he had Finn study the first eight finger motions, while he took the second set. Philby had sketched out a keyboard on a piece of notepaper; he marked the finger movements with Xs and numbered them.
The technician spent another twenty minutes putting the server through its paces—a full virus scan and a reboot. Apparently satisfied that there’d been no breach, she slid the keyboard back in its tray and left the server room.
“What now?” Finn asked.
“Now,” Philby answered, waving the piece of notepaper, “I do my magic and you and Maybeck get to sleep. We’re back in business.”
* * *
Maybeck sneaked out from under the cardboard boxes. The two guys had been told Base was “good.” They finally left.
His hand hovered over the STOP button.
Then he thought to send Philby a text.
want me to stop it?
Tucked in behind the plywood wall, he waited. And waited. When no text came back, he decided the reception was bad. He had to make a decision. Too much time had passed since the system had been restarted. By now, Finn and Philby had either been blown out of the system or were safe.
But his job was to keep the trash system down. He could stop it again, hide amid the boxes, and see what happened.
He hit STOP.
* * *
As Philby and Finn left Data Operations, Philby noticed that the overhead rumble stopped.
“Maybeck,” he said.
“About time!” Finn said.
The two boys hurried back and reentered the trash system. They moved incredibly quickly this time, knowing exactly where they were going. Reaching the vertical pipe through which they’d entered, Philby knocked three times. The lid opened and Maybeck reached down a hand.
“Hurry!” he said into the dark.
He helped Philby up, then Finn.
“Oh, man!” Maybeck said. “You guys reek like diaper poo.”
“Nice to see you, too,” Finn said.
Minutes later, they were attracting unwanted attention on their way out. But thankfully, the state of their smell kept the curious at bay. They cut a wide swath as they walked out of the employee gate at the front of the Park.
Finn caught sight of the time and called his mother. The arrangement had been for them to be picked up in Downtown Disney, but they were already late. He was going to have to risk the truth, or something close to it.
“Good grief!” she said as they piled into the car, Maybeck riding shotgun, Finn and Philby relegated to the back. “You two look disgusting.”
“We went Dumpster diving,” Finn said.
“You what?!”
“I threw my wallet away by accident,” Philby said. “It was on this food tray, and I just dumped it in there by mistake, and by the time I realized it they’d already emptied the trash—”
“So they went Dumpster diving,” Maybeck said.
“And we found it,” Finn said.
“In the Magic Kingdom,” she said. “What happened to Downtown Disney?”
“Our plans changed.”
“You aren’t allowed in the Magic Kingdom without permission.” His mom didn’t miss much.
“Something came up,” Finn said.
An ominous silence overcame the car’s interior. His mother was clearly considering how far to push her son with the other boys in the car. “Well, at least it has a happy ending,” she said, letting Finn off the hook. For now.
She rolled down the window. “Can I just say, you stink?” She burst out laughing, as did the boys, though their laughter was faked.
Then she went through the typical mom stuff: “Did you have a good time?” “Did you see any friends?” “How much money did you spend?” It was like she was reading from the same script anytime Finn did anything with his friends.
“Willa’s mother called.” She dropped it like a bomb and checked the rearview mirror for impact. The thing about his mother: she could lay little traps that he would fall into before he knew it.
“She said you knew what it was about,” his mother continued.
“Yeah. Okay, thanks,” Finn said.
“So,” she said, addressing Maybeck, “now you can tell me the real reason you were in the Magic Kingdom. And if you lie, I’ll know it. And I won’t be happy.”
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