Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom Part 21

He wouldn't talk though, not until we finished the coffee. Then he stood and strolled over to the Mansion. It wasn't rope-drop yet, and there weren't any guests in the Park, which was all for the better, given what was coming next.

"Have you taken a look at Debra's Whuffie lately?" he asked, finally, as we stood by the pet cemetery, considering the empty scaffolding.

I started to pull out the handheld but he put a hand on my arm. "Don't bother," he said, morosely. "Suffice it to say, Debra's gang is number one with a bullet. Ever since word got out about what happened to the Hall, they've been stacking it deep. They can do just about anything, Jules, and get away with it."

My stomach tightened and I found myself grinding my molars. "So, what is it they've done, Dan?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

Dan didn't have to respond, because at that moment, Tim emerged from the Mansion, wearing a light cotton work-smock. He had a thoughtful expression, and when he saw us, he beamed his elfin grin and came over.

"Hey guys!" he said.

"Hi, Tim," Dan said. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"Pretty exciting stuff, huh?" he said.

"I haven't told him yet," Dan said, with forced lightness. "Why don't you run it down?"

"Well, it's pretty radical, I have to admit. We've learned some stuff from the Hall that we wanted to apply, and at the same time, we wanted to capture some of the historical character of the ghost story."

I opened my mouth to object, but Dan put a hand on my forearm. "Really?"

he asked innocently. "How do you plan on doing that?"

"Well, we're keeping the telepresence robots -- that's a honey of an idea, Julius -- but we're giving each one an uplink so that it can flash-bake. We've got some high-Whuffie horror writers pulling together a series of narratives about the lives of each ghost: how they met their tragic ends, what they've done since, you know.

"The way we've storyboarded it, the guests stream through the ride pretty much the way they do now, walking through the preshow and then getting into the ride-vehicles, the Doom Buggies. But here's the big change: we _slow it all down_. We trade off throughput for intensity, make it more of a premium product.

"So you're a guest. From the queue to the unload zone, you're being chased by these ghosts, these telepresence robots, and they're really scary -- I've got Suneep's concept artists going back to the drawing board, hitting basic research on stuff that'll just scare the guests silly. When a ghost catches you, lays its hands on you -- wham! Flash- bake! You get its whole grisly story in three seconds, across your frontal lobe. By the time you've left, you've had ten or more ghost- contacts, and the next time you come back, it's all new ghosts with all new stories. The way that the Hall's drawing 'em, we're bound to be a hit." He put his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels, clearly proud of himself.

When Epcot Center first opened, long, long ago, there'd been an ugly decade or so in ride design. Imagineering found a winning formula for s.p.a.ceship Earth, the flagship ride in the big golf ball, and, in their drive to establish thematic continuity, they'd turned the formula into a cookie-cutter, stamping out half a dozen clones for each of the "themed"

areas in the Future Showcase. It went like this: first, we were cavemen, then there was ancient Greece, then Rome burned (cue sulfur-odor FX), then there was the Great Depression, and, finally, we reached the modern age. Who knows what the future holds? We do! We'll all have videophones and be living on the ocean floor. Once was cute -- compelling and inspirational, even -- but six times was embarra.s.sing. Like everyone, once Imagineering got themselves a good hammer, everything started to resemble a nail. Even now, the Epcot ad-hocs were repeating the sins of their forebears, closing every ride with a scene of b.i.t.c.hun utopia.

And Debra was repeating the cla.s.sic mistake, tearing her way through the Magic Kingdom with her blaster set to flash-bake.

"Tim," I said, hearing the tremble in my voice. "I thought you said that you had no designs on the Mansion, that you and Debra wouldn't be trying to take it away from us. Didn't you say that?"

Tim rocked back as if I'd slapped him and the blood drained from his face. "But we're not taking it away!" he said. "You _invited_ us to help."

I shook my head, confused. "We did?" I said.

"Sure," he said.

"Yes," Dan said. "Kim and some of the other rehab cast went to Debra yesterday and asked her to do a design review of the current rehab and suggest any changes. She was good enough to agree, and they've come up with some great ideas." I read between the lines: the newbies you invited in have gone over to the other side and we're going to lose everything because of them. I felt like s.h.i.t.

"Well, I stand corrected," I said, carefully. Tim's grin came back and he clapped his hands together. _He really loves the Mansion_, I thought.

_He could have been on our side, if we had only played it all right._

Dan and I took to the utilidors and grabbed a pair of bicycles and sped towards Suneep's lab, jangling our bells at the rushing castmembers.

"They don't have the authority to invite Debra in," I panted as we pedaled.

"Says who?" Dan said.

"It was part of the deal -- they knew that they were probationary members right from the start. They weren't even allowed into the design meetings."

"Looks like they took themselves off probation," he said.

Suneep gave us both a chilly look when we entered his lab. He had dark circles under his eyes and his hands shook with exhaustion. He seemed to be holding himself erect with nothing more than raw anger.

"So much for building without interference," he said. "We agreed that this project wouldn't change midway through. Now it has, and I've got other commitments that I'm going to have to cancel because this is going off-schedule."

I made soothing apologetic gestures with my hands. "Suneep, believe me, I'm just as upset about this as you are. We don't like this one little bit."

He harrumphed. "We had a deal, Julius," he said, hotly. "I would do the rehab for you and you would keep the ad-hocs off my back. I've been holding up my end of the bargain, but where the h.e.l.l have you been? If they replan the rehab now, I'll _have_ to go along with them. I can't just leave the Mansion half-done -- they'll murder me."

The kernel of a plan formed in my mind. "Suneep, we don't like the new rehab plan, and we're going to stop it. You can help. Just stonewall them -- tell them they'll have to find other Imagineering support if they want to go through with it, that you're booked solid."

Dan gave me one of his long, considering looks, then nodded a minute approval. "Yeah," he drawled. "That'll help all right. Just tell 'em that they're welcome to make any changes they want to the plan, _if_ they can find someone else to execute them."

Suneep looked unhappy. "Fine -- so then they go and find someone else to do it, and that person gets all the credit for the work my team's done so far. I just flush my time down the toilet."

"It won't come to that," I said quickly. "If you can just keep saying no for a couple days, we'll do the rest."

Suneep looked doubtful.

"I promise," I said.

Suneep ran his stubby fingers through his already crazed hair. "All right," he said, morosely.

Dan slapped him on the back. "Good man," he said.

It should have worked. It almost did.

I sat in the back of the Adventureland conference room while Dan exhorted.

"Look, you don't have to roll over for Debra and her people! This is _your_ garden, and you've tended it responsibly for years. She's got no right to move in on you -- you've got all the Whuffie you need to defend the place, if you all work together."

No castmember likes confrontation, and the Liberty Square bunch were tough to rouse to action. Dan had turned down the air conditioning an hour before the meeting and closed up all the windows, so that the room was a kiln for hard-firing irritation into rage. I stood meekly in the back, as far as possible from Dan. He was working his magic on my behalf, and I was content to let him do his thing.

When Lil had arrived, she'd sized up the situation with a sour expression: sit in the front, near Dan, or in the back, near me. She'd chosen the middle, and to concentrate on Dan I had to tear my eyes away from the sweat glistening on her long, pale neck.

Dan stalked the aisles like a preacher, eyes blazing. "They're _stealing_ your future! They're _stealing_ your _past_! They claim they've got your support!"

He lowered his tone. "I don't think that's true." He grabbed a castmember by her hand and looked into her eyes. "Is it true?" he said so low it was almost a whisper.

"No," the castmember said.