Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom – Day 42 of 61

I stalked off to the Mansion. A choir of zombie-shambling new recruits had formed up in front of the gate, and were groaning their way through “Grim Grinning Ghosts,” with a new call-and-response structure. A small audience participated, urged on by the recruits on the scaffolding.

“Well, at least that’s going right,” I muttered to myself. And it was, except that I could see members of the ad-hoc looking on from the sidelines, and the looks weren’t kindly. Totally obsessive fans are a good measure of a ride’s popularity, but they’re kind of a pain in the ass, too. They lipsynch the soundtrack, cadge souvenirs and pester you with smarmy, show-off questions. After a while, even the cheeriest castmember starts to lose patience, develop an automatic distaste for them.

The Liberty Square ad-hocs who were working on the Mansion had been railroaded into approving a rehab, press-ganged into working on it, and were now forced to endure the company of these grandstanding megafans. If I’d been there when it all started — instead of sleeping! — I may’ve been able to massage their bruised egos, but now I wondered if it was too late.

Nothing for it but to do it. I ducked into a utilidor, changed into my costume and went back onstage. I joined the call-and-response enthusiastically, walking around to the ad-hocs and getting them to join in, reluctantly or otherwise.

By the time the choir retired, sweaty and exhausted, a group of ad-hocs were ready to take their place, and I escorted my recruits to an offstage break-room.


Suneep didn’t deliver the robot prototypes for a week, and told me that it would be another week before I could have even five production units. Though he didn’t say it, I got the sense that his guys were out of control, so excited by the freedom from ad-hoc oversight that they were running wild. Suneep himself was nearly a wreck, nervous and jumpy. I didn’t press it.

Besides, I had problems of my own. The new recruits were multiplying. I was staying on top of the fan response to the rehab from a terminal I’d had installed in my hotel room. Kim and her local colleagues were fielding millions of hits every day, their Whuffie accumulating as envious fans around the world logged in to watch their progress on the scaffolding.

That was all according to plan. What wasn’t according to plan was that the new recruits were doing their own recruiting, extending invitations to their net-pals to come on down to Florida, bunk on their sofas and guest-beds, and present themselves to me for active duty.

The tenth time it happened, I approached Kim in the break-room. Her gorge was working, her eyes tracked invisible words across the middle distance. No doubt she was penning yet another breathless missive about the magic of working in the Mansion. “Hey, there,” I said. “Have you got a minute to meet with me?”

She held up a single finger, then, a moment later, gave me a bright smile.

“Hi, Julius!” she said. “Sure!”

“Why don’t you change into civvies, we’ll take a walk through the Park and talk?”

Kim wore her costume every chance she got. I’d been quite firm about her turning it in to the laundry every night instead of wearing it home.

Reluctantly, she stepped into a change-room and switched into her cowl. We took the utilidor to the Fantasyland exit and walked through the late-afternoon rush of children and their adults, queued deep and thick for Snow White, Dumbo and Peter Pan.

“How’re you liking it here?” I asked.

Kim gave a little bounce. “Oh, Julius, it’s the best time of my life, really! A dream come true. I’m meeting so many interesting people, and I’m really feeling creative. I can’t wait to try out the telepresence rigs, too.”

“Well, I’m really pleased with what you and your friends are up to here. You’re working hard, putting on a good show. I like the songs you’ve been working up, too.”

She did one of those double-kneed shuffles that was the basis of any number of action vids those days and she was suddenly standing in front of me, hand on my shoulder, looking into my eyes. She looked serious.

“Is there a problem, Julius? If there is, I’d rather we just talked about it, instead of making chitchat.”

I smiled and took her hand off my shoulder. “How old are you, Kim?”

“Nineteen,” she said. “What’s the problem?”

Nineteen! Jesus, no wonder she was so volatile. What’s my excuse, then?

“It’s not a problem, Kim, it’s just something I wanted to discuss with you. The people you-all have been bringing down to work for me, they’re all really great castmembers.”

“But?”

“But we have limited resources around here. Not enough hours in the day for me to stay on top of the new folks, the rehab, everything. Not to mention that until we open the new Mansion, there’s a limited number of extras we can use out front. I’m concerned that we’re going to put someone on stage without proper training, or that we’re going to run out of uniforms; I’m also concerned about people coming all the way here and discovering that there aren’t any shifts for them to take.”

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