Kingdom Keepers IV(47)
“We’re too slow. We’re taking too long,” Philby warned. And just like that, a clunk was heard, like a grumbling in the belly of a beast. The system was restarting.
“Okay, that’s what we expected.” Philby tried to sound calm. His hair stuck to the goo on the walls. “Now, all that needs to happen is for Maybeck to trip the emergency stop again.”
Finn considered trying to send a text, but looked at the layer of tarlike goo on his hands—something they hadn’t considered. Nonetheless, he reached into his pocket for his phone as the wind lifted the hair off his head.
Zero bars: no service.
“Oh, perfect,” he said.
* * *
Maybeck understood his assignment: keep an eye on the two pirates; stop the system if it restarted. Piece of cake. What Philby had only vaguely mentioned was that on-site engineers might seek immediate answers to their trash system shutting down. Despite the casual, playful, magical impression the Parks had on visitors, in truth they were run more like a NASA mission. There were teams of experts to tackle and instantly solve any kind of problem—from the lettuce in a restaurant going brown, to the intricacies of staging the three o’clock parade each day; the evening fireworks; the street bands; the stage shows. There were enough maintenance employees to form a small army. Two of these men were radio-dispatched by Engineering Base to investigate an emergency stop at URS-3—Utilidor Refuse Station #3.
Luckily, Maybeck heard them coming before they saw him. They were complaining to each other about what kind of knucklehead would pull an emergency stop on the trash system. They were just on the other side of the trash area’s plywood barrier as he heard them. He turned, dropped to his hands and knees, and burrowed deeply into the pile of cardboard recycling.
He stared out from his hiding place as the two maintenance guys inspected the door that sealed the trash drop, as well as the electronic box that housed the red emergency stop override.
“I don’t see nothing wrong,” said the shorter of the two. He was thick-boned and heavyset and had a voice like a dog growling.
Philby had said the system would be restarted the first time remotely from Engineering Base. He’d been wrong—a rarity.
“Nah,” said the other, a taller, leaner man. “Some wise guy’s idea of a practical joke.”
The short guy grabbed his radio. “Good to go URS-three. Repeat: green light for URS-three restart.”
“Roger, that,” came a woman’s voice over the radio.
A moment later, Maybeck felt a thunk underfoot.
The system had restarted.
* * *
Willa, her DHI riddled with static, moved carefully through the backstage area behind France, taking care to screen herself behind trailers, vehicles, and pieces of staging. Hypersensitive about how she stood out wearing pajamas, she wanted to avoid being seen as much as possible. If kids recognized her, she’d be mobbed and she’d have to role-play as a Disney Host. Another Willa guide—dressed in lederhosen—was currently somewhere in Epcot, which could explain her own current projection problems. Willa’s own hologram would likely improve once Epcot was closed and the regular DHIs were turned off for the night, but she didn’t want to wait. She had a few hundred yards to cover in order to reach the pin-trading station by the fountain. The Return. The most direct route was to join the sea of Park visitors, but the idea terrified her.
She knew that if she looked scared and out of place, she would appear vulnerable: If she looked confident and comfortable, despite the pajamas, she would fit right in. After all, newlyweds went around the Parks in mouse ears and bridal veils. On a scale of 1 to 10, pajamas barely registered.
She briefly hid behind a Food and Wine Festival station, gathering her courage. Then she stepped out and confidently joined the hordes. She was in a courtyard in France, the lake straight ahead. There were shops to her right and a French bakery. Benches to her left. Trees and raised islands of flowers in the center of the oblong, cobblestoned plaza. Music filled the air—pieces of the sound track to The Hunchback of Notre Dame. It had an inviting and calming effect. The music surrounded her and made her feel at peace. She loved the Parks when they were open and filled with families and brimming with happiness. Her toes and fingers tingled. Her blue line grew solid—she was pure DHI.
In her euphoria, she failed to look where she was going, and walked right through a raised flower bed, coming out the other side. Some kids recognized her immediately and approached, crowding her, asking for photographs and autographs. She had to agree or risk making an even bigger scene as visitors complained. She posed for some photographs, explained politely that as a hologram she couldn’t sign autographs, and hoped to get away. Camera flashes blinded her. Kids bubbled with enthusiasm.