Free The Return: Disney Lands by Ridley Pearson Page B

tape. For a second time, a hair caught on the camera, and then
Finn reappeared, in stark black and green instead of green and black. A fraction of a second later, he flipped back.
    Maybeck nearlypuked, but burped instead. By this point, he was as green as night vision Finn.
    When the ride finally stopped and the door opened, a man stood just off to the side.
    “Brad?” Finn said, his face lighting up. This was the Imagineer who had first modeled the young Finn, Willa, Charlene, Maybeck, and Philby, using a green screen sound studio to
create their DHIs.
    “In the flesh,” he said.“This way, please.”
    Brad led them upstairs to an oddly shaped VIP lounge. The space held four lounge chairs and a pair of large beanbags, as well as a bizarre electric-aquamarine coffee table that looked more like
a miniature trampoline. A flat-panel television was mounted high on the wall, opposite the large floor-to-ceiling windows.
    “What’s up?” Finn said, once Brad had asked themto sit down. The door was securely shut, making the whole meeting all the more mysterious.
    “You should have told us.” Though Finn had spoken, Brad directed his words at Philby.
    “I know.”
    “We made those edits tonight. That’s why they were rough.”
    “I thought that was the case,” Philby said.
    “What’s the deal?” Maybeck asked.
    “Do you want to tell them?” Brad asked Philby, catchinghim off guard.
    “Um.”
    Brad asked Finn what he remembered about the carousel ride. Finn checked quickly with Philby, who dipped his chin in the barest possible nod.
    “Nothing. Not a thing. Zero. Zilch.”
    Brad’s expression froze. He grunted. “Okay, then. I guess we’re done here. Thanks. And sorry for the bother.”
    “I don’t think so,” Philby said, winning Brad’s full attention.
    “I gave you your chance,” Brad said.
    “The lint on the lens.” Philby met him glare for glare.
    “What about it?”
    Maybeck had risen to his feet; Philby waved him back down onto his beanbag. Slouching and extending his long legs, Maybeck said, “Just in case anyone cares, there’s no way that was
edited tonight.”
    “Exactly!” Philby said.
    “Exactly what?” Brad asked.
    Willa sat uptaller. “Can someone speak English here?”
    It was Philby who answered her. “I’m guessing the Imagineers, or maybe the Cryptos, have seen this ‘lint’ before.” He drew air quotes. “It wasn’t
something on the lens.”
    Maybeck jumped in. “Which would explain why the dead time was edited out of the video. Why it’s only the important moments.”
    Philby: “How many times?”
    Brad: “Seven.”

    Philby: “Which attractions? No, no! Don’t tell me! Storybook Land, Snow White, Peter Pan’s Flight, Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride, Mad Tea Party—”
    Willa: “—Jungle Cruise and King Arthur Carrousel.”
    Brad nodded slowly. “Well, well. Impressive, you two.”
    Maybeck shook his head. “What about Finn and me? Spread the praise around!”
    Finn barely seemed to hear. He was bent forward in his chair,fingers steepled together in front of his face. “No Autopia?
    Philby beamed at him. “Very good!”
    “No,” Brad said. “That attraction has no connection to a former work.”
    Frustration overwhelmed Maybeck. “Hello!? What’s going on?”
    Finn turned to him, his back straightening, excitement dawning on his face. “Willa and Philby listed the attractions on opening day in Disneyland that aretold as stories.”
    Philby said, “The Imagineers, maybe the guests, have seen these anomalies, these odd shimmers—this lint—on the security cameras, before. Am I right?”
    “You are,” said Brad. “We’ve shut down attractions, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for weeks, trying to analyze what’s taking place.”
    “And you came to a conclusion, didn’t you?” Philby said. He sounded impossiblycertain. “Or in Imagineer-speak, a theory.”
    Brad pursed his lips. “I think we’re done here.”
    “No, we are not,” Finn