The Return: Disney Lands Read online

  “Since middle school, basically,” Jess said. She didn’t seem to notice Emily’s suspicious air. “But under less than stellar conditions.”

  “How cool is that, though!” said Emily. “You guys are practically sisters.”

  “Are sisters. Both Lockhart. Both adopted.” It was stretching the truth, though not by much.

  “Unheard of,” said Tina. “None of us knew each other before coming here. As in: none.”

  Now there was no missing it: an air of accusation and envy hung in the air between the pairs of girls.

  Breaking the ice, Emily sweetly suggested that she and Amanda grab a Starbucks after their next class together. She sounded genuine.

  “I’d love to hear how you two pulled off getting accepted together,” Tina said, eyes still fixed on Jess.

  Jess forced an unwilling smile. “Lucky, I guess.”

  Time to go. Amanda said good-bye and approached the boy, who wore headphones and a look of intense concentration as he read.

  As the girls approached, he looked up and stared a little too long and too intimately at Amanda. He had brown eyes, a mat of unruly dark hair, and thick eyebrows.

  “Yeah?” he said, slipping one ear clear of the headphones. His voice was adult and scratchy.

  “Amanda. I’m new.”

  “Tim Walters. I’m not.” He covered his ear back over.

  “I was wondering if I could borrow Park History.” She pointed to the book, which sat in a stack on the table in front of the boy.

  He lifted the earphone, but Amanda wasn’t about to repeat herself. “I don’t own it. That’s why it’s called a library.”

  “You’re reading it.”

  “No. I’m reading this. It’s just sitting there. That means it’s yours if you want it.”

  “Seriously? You’re good with that?”

  “I didn’t say that,” Tim said. “I said it’s yours if you want it.”

  “I’m not just going to take it,” Amanda said stubbornly.

  He flipped his arms as if to say, Give me a break!

  “Hey, bonehead!” said Emily, kicking Tim’s legs. The way they engaged, it was immediately apparent that they weren’t strangers. Far from it. But they weren’t close either, not exactly.

  “Don’t listen to this degenerate,” Emily said. “Take the book. And if he gives you any trouble, let me know.”

  Tim stuck his tongue out at her.

  “Very adult of you.” Emily turned, making a point of her sultry sway as she went back to sit with Tina.

  Tim pointed to the book in Amanda’s arms. “It’s not exactly Wikipedia, you know?”

  “I’m trying to find out about the Imagineers’ use of television in the parks. The history of it and stuff.”

  “No way!” Tim sat up sharply and ripped off the headphones, further tousling his unruly hair.

  “Why? What?” Amanda said.

  Beside her, Jess hid a smile, silently admiring Amanda’s skill at working the boy. She and Amanda had researched Tim’s field of study before coming to the library—but they weren’t about to let him know that.

  “Metaphorically speaking, alongside my name you’ll see Tim-with-an-asterisk,” Tim said.

  “Why? Speaking metaphorically, of course.”

  “Because Imagineering communication technology is my specialty, my area of interest. My major, if we had majors.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Amanda made her surprise sound genuine.

  “What in particular interests you?” Tim asked.

  “Probably better if I read up first. But your enthusiasm is noted.”

  “I’m not flirting.”

  “Okay.”

  “You think I’m flirting.” He sounded crushed.

  “I just think I need to do some reading before I talk to a person with an asterisk by his name.”

  “We live on the edge,” Jess said, laughter obvious in her tone. Tim turned to her for the first time, jutting out his chin.

  “You speak for each other, do you?”

  “She takes the adjectives, I take the adverbs,” Jess said.

  “Feisty! I like that.”

  “No one asked,” Jess said.

  “Read all you want,” Tim said, sitting back and kicking up his feet on the desk. “But I could save you a lot of time.”

  “How so?” Jess asked.

  “Making things difficult if not impossible to reference has to be carefully planned.” Tim shrugged. “I’m just saying. That may have gone on here.”

  “So you’re a conspiracy theorist?” Jess said.

  “I’m in lighting and sound, and the odd computer networking job.”

  “All computer networking is odd.”

  Amanda fought back a grin at Jess’s quick come-backs.

  Tim grinned, too. Nodded. Smiling was something that came naturally to him, it seemed. And he was far more handsome than Amanda had thought at first.

  Catching herself, Amanda clutched the book tightly, and thanked Tim for it.

  “Don’t go too far,” Tim said. “Because you’ll be back.”

  Jess sighed, unimpressed, and followed Amanda back to their corner chairs. Tina called loudly after them, “Watch out for him, ladies. Killer smile, but he’d rather spend time with a circuit board than engage in active conversation.”

  “I have a love of learning!” Tim said, indignant.

  In the book’s index, Amanda found only a single reference for television: Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color. There were four pages and they consisted almost entirely of photographs.

  “He’s right,” she said. “Nothing here.”

  Tim was watching them. He seemed to be celebrating their failure.

  “Little known fact,” he called across the room. “Set Design, 1950 through 1966 includes not only the addition of New Orleans Square, but the 1964 creation of Progressland for the General Electric Pavilion at the New York World’s Fair.”

  “You’re putting us to sleep over here,” Tina called out.

  “It’s on the second shelf from the top, nearly all the way to your right,” Tim said, directly to Jess.

  Jess climbed the ladder, looked around, descended, and pushed the ladder to the end of the shelving unit. Absorbed in the photo spread, Amanda lost track of her. When she glanced curiously in the direction of Tim, his chair was empty. Only then did she hear the whispering voices behind her.

  Tim stood one rung below Jess, well up the library ladder, arms around her on either side. He ran his long fingers along book spines, making a sound like a stick across a picket fence.

  Watching them, Amanda missed Finn all the more.

  “Got it,” Tim said softly to Jess as he removed a book from the shelf. He helped her down, keeping one hand on the small of her back all the while.

  Jess handed the book to Amanda.

  Tim knelt down by her chair and spoke in a whisper. “The best stuff is supposed to be in a basement storage room.”

  “Best, as in?” Amanda whispered back.

  “Senior theses, research papers, transcripts of nearly every lecture given at DSI. They publish less than ten percent of their institutional knowledge. The non-Disney-published books about the company are dismissed as uninformed or intentionally inflammatory. For the most part, that’s true. But there are gems in nearly every one. Several mention the existence of DSI. Others describe an Imagineering research archive in the basement of the dorm building.”

  “You’re making that up,” Jess said.

  “Have you ever met someone in lighting and sound who’s this creative?” Tim’s self-denigrating tone stopped the conversation. Jess sat back, miffed. Amanda filled the awkward silence by thanking Tim, who returned to his chair.

  “Didn’t look like you hated research all that much when you were on the ladder,” Amanda said, moving from the book’s index to its middle section, her eyes fixed on the page.

  “I couldn’t get the ladder to roll. Tim showed up to help. No biggie.”

/>   “Uh-huh,” Amanda teased.

  “Stop it!”

  “Check this out.” Amanda read quietly aloud. “‘The concept for Carousel of Progress originated as part of the late nineteen fifties Edison Square expansion of Main Street USA. After the expansion fell through, the idea of a show celebrating the progress of technology was picked up and became ‘Progressland’ at the General Electric Pavilion at the 1964 New York World’s Fair.’”

  “Interesting.”

  “‘Disney Imagineers Roger E. Broggie and Bob Gurr led the project. After the World’s Fair ended, the attraction was moved to Disneyland, where it opened on July 2, 1967 under a new name, The Carousel of Progress. The attraction had the same sets and Audio-Animatronic performers as in the World’s Fair, with only slight updates to the show’s storyline.’”

  “Huh. I still can’t figure it out. Why would Finn and Philby ask about this?” Jess said.

  Amanda passed Jess her phone. “Write this stuff down as I read?”

  “Do I look like your secretary?” Jess complained. But she started thumb-typing the bullet points as Amanda continued.

  “‘Act One begins just before the turn of the century, with the advent of new-fangled inventions like the icebox and the “talking machine.” Thanks to a new machine, it only takes Mother five hours to do the wash. Jane prepares to go out for a ride on an electric streetcar.

  “‘By Act Two, the nineteen twenties, the house is outfitted in electric lights and indoor plumbing, making ironing easier on Mother, and helping Cousin Orville keep cool in the bathtub.

  “‘Act Three, the Roaring Forties, has Grandma wearing a hearing aid while Mother uses her electric mixer to mix paint. Jane is keeping in shape with an electric machine while she ties up the house phone.

  “‘Act Four depicts the future, with electric appliances that make the 1967 Christmas dinner a breeze. Jet travel provides a means for Grandma and Grandpa to visit, while a new color TV offers entertainment.’

  “Did you get that?” Amanda said, pausing. “TV. It’s mentioned right there.”

  “Did I get it all? No. Enough? Yes. And note to Amanda: we should be doing our real homework.”

  “Okay, go. And, thank you! I can do this by myself.” Amanda reached out to take back her phone.

  “No, I’ll stick around and help,” Jess said begrudgingly.

  “And that has nothing to do with Tim,” Amanda whispered.

  Jess kicked her.

  Amanda read on, this time taking notes herself.

  “‘On September 9, 1973, the show closed for a cross-country move, opening in Walt Disney World on January 15, 1975. The theaters now rotated counter-clockwise rather than clockwise. Changes included: no post show, an updated fourth act, and a new theme song called “The Best Time of Your Life.”’”

  One of many footnotes read: “COP was updated in 1985, and again in 1993.”

  “Good evening, all!” The deeply sonorous voice belonged to a tall man with silver hair and matching eyebrows, dressed in the ubiquitous khaki pants and School of Imagineering polo that marked DSI instructors. He stood in the library’s lobby door beside a matronly woman with a trim figure, long neck, and prominent nose.

  “I am Tobias Langford. You may call me Toby. In my company is Ms. Bernice Crenshaw—”

  “Bernie!” the woman called out.

  Those in the library, including Tim, Tina, Emily, Amanda, and Jess, all looked up.

  “First years, remind us of your names, please?” Ms. Bernie Crenshaw said.

  Amanda and Jess turned out to be the only two first years present. Tobias Langford took down their names in a flip-cover spiral notebook.

  “Bernie, have they done something wrong?” Emily asked.

  “Yeah, are they in trouble?” Tina said, a little too enthusiastically.

  “On the contrary,” Langford said. “We are duly impressed by any first years who instigate the use of our facilities’ expanded offerings. Excellent! The use of the library suggests…overachievers.”

  “We’ll just have a quick look at the books you’re reading, if you don’t mind.” Crenshaw’s voice cut as sharp as a crow’s cry.

  Jess shot Amanda a suspicious glance.

  Amanda caught Tim’s eyes moving between her and, more specifically, the two books on the table in front of her.

  Also seeing Tim, Jess reacted before Amanda, touching the bottom book: Park History. Tim gently rocked his head side to side. Not that one.

  Jess tapped the top book, Set Design 1950–1966.

  Almost imperceptibly, Tim nodded.

  Quickly, Jess slipped Set Design off the table and stashed it behind her. But the book’s location made her sit stiffly in the chair, so she slid it beneath the seat cushion and wiggled down onto it like a hen onto an egg.

  She looked up and saw the two faculty members standing close by. Langford smelled of leathery cologne. He was taller up close.

  “Tobias Langford,” he repeated, offering his hand to both girls. They shook. “Dean of Technology and Innovation.”

  “You must know Tim, then,” Jess said.

  “Indeed.” Langford spun to look at Walters.

  “You may call him Toby, and me, Bernie,” the woman said. “As you’ve no doubt heard, all faculty prefer to be addressed by their first names.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jess said, out of habit.

  “What have we here?” Tobias Langford asked, picking up the park history book from the table.

  “Park History, for our History of Audio-Animatronics course,” Amanda said, offering the explanation a little too quickly and enthusiastically. Nervously.

  “Yes,” he said, towering above her. His expression held a doubtful, penetrating inquiry that caught Amanda by surprise. “Nineteen sixty-three.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The first use of the term. Audio-Animatronics were introduced in the Tiki Room, but had been in development for several years prior.”

  “Ooookay.” The drawled word escaped Amanda’s lips before she could stop herself.

  “You don’t ever want to leave a book open upside down like this,” Bernie Crenshaw said, reaching down. “It can damage the binding. Please use a—” She stopped.

  She’d opened the book to the page Amanda had been reading.

  Without speaking, she passed the book to Tobias. He read deliberately, and then examined the placement of the library ladder, the rows of books, and the prominent gap on the upper shelf. Still in silence, he shifted his burning inquisitive gaze to Amanda.

  Bernie spoke. “We are pleased to see you taking advantage of the resources available here in Asher House.” Asher House was the proper name for the Tower. “How has your experience been so far?”

  “Great,” Amanda said.

  “Terrific,” Jess added. “I am so honored to be here, to have this opportunity.”

  “We expect great things from both of you,” Toby said. “From all our students.” He pivoted. “Don’t we, Tim?” It was a pointed remark, the subtleties of which Amanda couldn’t quite discern.

  Tim nodded sheepishly. “Of course.”

  “We will be watching you all…enthusiastically.” He delivered this while looking into Amanda’s eyes with an intensity she wanted to shy away from—and finally did.

  “It’s going to be a great year,” Bernie said.

  “Enjoy your…reading.” Toby made a point of staring at the high shelf, and at the vacant slot left by the book that currently lay beneath Jess’s seat cushion.

  “Always,” Amanda said. It came out sounding like a confession.

  The wise camel is not swayed by desert mirages; instead, it trudges on, in search for true water.2

  INVITED BY RICH FLEMING, Disney World’s Entertainment Operations Manager, to view IllumiNations as a group from the VIP dock near Epcot’s Mexico pavilion, the Keepers—minus Charlene, who’d remained in Hollywood for work—assembled at eight forty-five p.m. by the rope that blocked entry to the VIP area.
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br />   On all sides, the mob of park guests pressed close to the railings, each striving to get the best view of the spectacular. Some autograph seekers caught up to the Keepers, mostly kids. A few diehard Disney adults thanked them for “preserving the dream,” “saving the parks,” “protecting us all.”

  Welcomed, and let through the barrier, the Keepers walked out onto the dock and formed a huddle ahead of the show’s start, which featured a combination of fire, water, lasers, fireworks, and music.

  Unnoticed in the melee, Finn showed them the fountain pen drawn on his forearm. Philby pointed out that Finn was right-handed and could never have drawn the pen himself.

  “Which implies that you guys don’t trust me,” Finn said. “That you actually think I might do that. Wonderful feeling, by the way.”

  “So what happened, exactly?” Maybeck asked, ignoring him.

  Finn and Philby exchanged a look. Slowly, Philby said, “His memory was wiped.”

  “That’s convenient,” Maybeck said. He spoke under his breath, but loud enough that everyone could hear.

  “Shut up!” Willa came to Finn’s defense, surprising him. “Let’s listen. Okay?”

  “Of primary importance,” Philby said, “is the message itself: the pen. Obviously, we aren’t the only ones worried that without it being in One Man’s Dream, we never save the park.”

  “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.”