Copyright notice: Disney owns Disney characters. I am not Disney. Therefore, I do not own the Disney characters. But oh, how I wish I did…
Revelation 21:8
"This is an ABC Breaking News Bulletin…joining us now live from the Magic Kingdom at The Walt Disney World Resort in Orlando, Florida…and just to remind our viewers that The Walt Disney Company is the parent company of ABC News…"
-ABC affiliates, 8:01 AM, January 1, 2000
"…The Disney Company has been in the business of making dreams come true. Last night, a different kind of dream came true. In the spirit of camaraderie and brotherhood, the whole world watched together as an old millennium slipped away to be replaced by a new one, a new horizon brimming with ideas, hopes, and dreams. We were one world united, moving forward now as one people.
"As this morning dawns, another dream is about to come true. An old dream, one that had to wait years before its time came. A dream shared by many, with one common desire. It is a dream that Walt Disney himself tried to make true, but was unable to see to its completion.
"Disney World was only the first part of that dream, a place for families to come together and experience a magic that doesn't exist elsewhere. It is that magic that brings us here this morning, for a new purpose in a new era.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the world, I am honored and pleased to present to you Mickey and Minnie Mouse, the first residents of Animasia…and their many friends…"
-Nicholas Misner, speaking from the "Animasia Introduction" speech cards, Magic Kingdom, Orlando, Florida, 8:14 AM, January 1, 2000
We are not alone: Mickey Mouse and Co. real-life people and "not mere pencil drawings," Walt Disney CEO Nicholas Misner announces at press conference inside the Magic Kingdom.
-CNN News ticker, 8:19 AM, January 1, 2000
Laughter.
Joyful, giddy, exuberant laughter filled the Town Hall, a happiness so overwhelming it could be felt, riding on the merry pulses of sound that swept high through the rafters.
"Did you see their faces?"
"They were so surprised-"
"I shook hands with one of them!"
"What do you think they were writing?"
"Maybe we should have stayed out there longer, do you think…"
"Did you feel the sun? It was so glorious."
"It was all so…so magical…"
The Town Hall hummed in the voices of all of Animasia, an ecstatic frenzy of joy and excited confusion. Kingdoms compared notes with each other, relating things that they might have missed on the brief journey into the human world. Friends shared the minutiae and the grand, from human clothing to the scent of the air, sweetened with freedom and the day's first batch of Main Street's chocolate chip cookies.
Mickey stood upon the raised platform in the front of the hall, silently watching, still as a shadow. Everything had gone perfectly so far, from what he could see- Misner's introduction of the Animasians at the foot of the Castle, the delighted reaction of a usually jaded press corp., the parade of Kingdoms as they each took a turn to reveal themselves to the world…
Where was that other shoe, perched so readily to fall?
Where was Puck, leading a charge of revenge against the whole of Animasia with the world finally watching?
When would Misner start acting like himself again, rather than a poor imitation of the benign founder of the company?
Why was he doing this to himself, making himself sick with worry over things he couldn't possibly change?
"Mickey?"
Minnie stood in front of him, a concerned smile on her lips. "Still with us?"
A very slow, thoughtful nod. "What did we just get ourselves into, Min?"
She never got a chance to answer his question as that was the precise moment when Nicholas Misner arrived.
The amount of ecstasy and jubilation that ricocheted through the Hall could not have been magnified even if Walt himself dropped down on a cloud with a host of artistically-inspired seraphim at his disposal. The name of Nicholas Misner was chanted and cheered, praised and thanked as the man walked up to the podium where Mickey and Minnie were standing. Flanked by several yes men, Misner's troupe immediately overshadowed the two Mice as they were shuffled into the anonymity of the background.
Almost no one seemed to notice.
Misner let the applause continue for several minutes, a self-satisfied smile riding the corners of his mouth. With a grand sweep of his arm, her raised his voice and announced, "Happy New Year, one and all!"
The second round of applause was deafening.
When it subsided the second time, Misner began some speech that Mickey had no intention of listening to. Rather, he was more concerned about getting away from the podium with Minnie until he heard the sentence that he had been waiting for:
"These are your schedules."
Thunk.
There went the other shoe.
"Each Kingdom can refer to the daily postings here at the Town Hall. There, you will see what park you are to be expected at, as well at what times. These will be your chances to finally meet the world you were hidden from for so long. Your counselors will help you in any way they can, should you have any questions.
"We look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Congratulations again." At that, Misner left the stage to more applause, though a sort of confusion mingled into the percussive ovation. Surrounded by his troupe of business-attired goons, Misner cut a quick, direct path through the sea of people and out the door.
Mickey ran.
He darted through the crowd, out of the Town Hall and into the square. "Nicholas!"
"Not now, Mickey."
"Yes, now!"
"What?"
"What are you doing?" Mickey demanded, dodging the quick feet of the many lackeys.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play dumb, Nick- you never said a word about turning us into a park attraction."
Misner finally paused his brisk strides, then turned to face down the Mouse. "All right, look at it this way- do you really think they can just waltz on out onto the streets now? That-poof! - they're here and everyone's going to treat them like normal people?"
"So you're turning us into a sideshow instead?"
"Good lord, Mickey, calm down. Don't you see that this is the best way to handle things right now? They'll get to meet the public in a safe, controlled environment. And they're getting paid for it. No one's stopping them from exploring the world on their own, either. It's just…well, you know that the world at large isn't a terribly forgiving place, don't you?"
"Meaning?"
"They're going to have to be careful. They know this, even if they don't realize it yet. You knew it all along…why weren't you so loud about it then?"
The words They didn't want to listen failed to reach Mickey's tongue.
"See you tomorrow, Mickey." Misner waved him off, but this time, Mickey didn't feel like following. Lead seemed to have crept into his feet, and he remained rooted to the spot, seething in futility, cursing his lack of foresight.
He wondered how long it would take before the Town Square became just another patch of withered grass, mirroring the desolation of the once vibrant Toontown.
The turning of an old millennium into a new one is a rare enough occurrence that one should be able to excuse the reckless abandon with which many humans felt obliged to as 1999 careened into the year 2000. For many, it was simply a legitimate reason to get drunk, while to others, a time to celebrate the unity that often was not shared beyond borders. Some even feared this turning of numbers, believing that either a spiritual or mechanical apocalypse rode upon the nearing horizon.
And to one rather unique group, this was a year in which a new era hopefully dawned bright in the pale Floridian morning.
All this in mind, it was a world that had barely recovered from its collective hangover when Animasia entered reality.
Curiously enough, it was ABC News who first reported the goings-on in Orlando, breaking into its "One Saturday Morning" cartoon lineup with…cartoons. Or so it first appeared. And then CNN, of all places, began reporting a strange event that was taking place inside Walt Disney World's Magic Kingdom, puzzled anchors not fully understanding what their on-site reporter was telling them. Even that venerable bastion of serious discourse and information, NPR, began interrupting its stalwart "Car Talk" to bring its bleary eyed listeners up-to-date with this completely unexpected phenomena:
Toons.
That moniker from "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" appeared on every newscaster's lips when describing the scene taking place outside Cinderella's Castle. Beneath its cerulean spires, a parade of some of the best-known characters the planet over emerged, traipsing before a handful of stunned reporters.
It seemed like a joke at first. No one knew why they were being summoned to the Magic Kingdom for a press conference at 8AM New Year's Day. The happenings at a theme park hardly qualified for earth shattering news. Yet, Nicholas Misner's PR staff was persistent enough to warrant an intern and a camera from the major networks, as they kept promising an excellent conclusion the New Year festivities.
At 8 AM precisely, Misner took to a podium set up before the drawbridge of the Castle. He didn't say anything particularly inspired: Disney World was founded in magic, dreams come true, the same tired line from a middle aged man who believed in pixie dust with the same fervor he believed in the generosity of the human heart. Which was not much.
And then Mickey Mouse appeared.
"There was something odd about the perspective we all had when we first saw him," Bryce Conner, NBC's intern/reporter would comment later on the "Today" show. "We were all expecting that big costumed mouse that usually comes out for press gatherings like this, but this one, we could all tell, was really short. He just appeared under the arch and started walking towards us. As he got closer, we could all tell that it wasn't just a perspective thing- he was really short. And his skin wasn't made of that rubber stuff- it was moving. And then Jaime over there, she asked if this was some kind of new audio, uh, audio-animatronic thing. And then he started talking to us, and we all knew at that moment something really big was happening."
Indeed.
-Chatterbox Editorial, Slate Magazine On-line Periodical, posted 9:35 AM, January 1, 2000
As soon as the first star appeared in the January sky, fireworks arced over the whole of Animasia, streaking the night with enchanted flames. The magic folk had summed up all their creative energies and promised a celebratory performance the likes of which had never been seen, from Agrabah to Atlantis.
Eric didn't pay much attention to the dancing explosions as he walked along the beach, looking for Ariel. He wasn't too surprised that she was running late from talking with her father- she was a bit scatterbrained that way- but her apprehension of upsetting key members of the Entourage usually kept her minding the time more diligently.
When he found her, he knew something was wrong. Even way off in the distance, he knew that something was not well with his wife. She sat on the shore, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, looking off in the distance. Usually when talking to her father, Ariel would stand in the waves, even on frigid evenings- the coldness never bothered her. But Triton was nowhere to be found. And the buoyancy that radiated off her earlier in the morning had fallen away. He hastened his footsteps.
She watched him walk up to her without a word. "Ariel?" he asked softly.
Her pink gown spread over the sands, grains puddling in the creases of fabric. "I told Daddy about today."
Eric nodded, very worried now at the distant tone in her voice.
"Why did I have to tell him, Eric? Why couldn't he have been there? And my sisters? And Ursula and Flounder and…they forgot about them. Brian promised me he'd remember them and he forgot about them."
She wasn't crying, but her words wracked with helplessness and frustration. He hated, hated, hated seeing her this way. And there was only one way he knew he could help her.
"Come with me."
"I know, I know, we're running late-"
"No, not that. Don't even think about that yet. Later tonight, after the party, there's someplace that I want to take you to."
"Where? On the Outside?"
"No, it's here. Trust me on this and don't ask any questions just yet. Trust me."
"I do."
"Okay." He smiled at her, stroking her cheek. "The world's waiting for you."
She returned the smile. "Then we shouldn't keep them waiting any longer."
Overhead, pixie dust rained down amid petals of fire blossoms as they walked hand in hand off the shore.
What must it have been like for them?
Knowing how beloved they were, and never getting to experience that love?
Never seeing the face of a child light up at the mere mention of their names?
Details on Animasia are still sketchy at best, but the fact remains that, however grand their home may have been, they were still prisoners. A gilded cage, to be sure, but a cage nonetheless.
Why did Walt keep making cartoons if he knew that sentient beings would be the end result? It denigrates him to a Frankenstein-like creator, uncaring that his project wielded such a miracle.
Of course, I never knew Walt Disney, but the fact remains that he left behind hundreds of people who needed something he had no intention of providing. What kind of genius have we been celebrating all this time?
-S. Eden, Editorial, The Detroit Free Press, published January 2, 2000
Belle hated wearing the dress.
It was a gorgeous dress.
She just couldn't stand it.
As the gold silk rustled at her heels, she wondered again how she had let her common sense be waylaid and was now stuck with the Entourage, wearing a dress that was unequivocally associated with a closed chapter of her life…and an event that had never even occurred in her experience.
She stood at the mirror in the front room of the cottage, playing with a brush and a barrette in an attempt to get her "look" right. As her hair parted unevenly for the fourth time, she remembered why ponytails were her preferred hairstyle. A rap on the door signaled that her preparations should have been over by now. "Come in," she called out.
Gaston entered, carrying a small parcel in his hands. Closing the door behind him, he stopped in mid-stride upon seeing his fiancée. "You look beautiful," he breathed.
She smiled ruefully at his reflection in the mirror, gathering her hair up for another try. "Thank you. Brian wouldn't agree, but I value your opinion far more than that of Mr. Brian Alder."
"And for that, I am relieved. Are you ready?"
"Just…about…yes," she concluded, deciding that this mildly crooked 'do was the best she could manage. In earlier days, Babette or even Mrs. Potts would have nimbly woven her hair, but those days had long since passed. "Let me grab my cloak."
When she returned, Gaston held the present out to her. "What's this?"
"Open it and see."
Laying her cloak down on a chair, she took the parcel and gingerly opened it. Laying in a small cellophane box was an orchid corsage, not one from the gardens of Animasia, but from the Outside, an intensely violet bloom striking against the gold of her dress. "It's gorgeous…how did you get it?"
"Alder ordered it for me," Gaston explained as he slipped it over one of her gloved hands. "I was relieved that he didn't change the order to roses or something else."
"Thank you," she said, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. He surprised her by catching her on the mouth, holding her there. His hands slowly, so slowly began tracing the curvature of her back, pulsing down her spine in gentle, rhythmic strokes, finally resting on the scoop of dress. He plucked lightly at the buttons, teasing, until two popped out of their eyelets.
"You are getting ahead of yourself," Belle murmured, breaking the kiss and batting away at his wandering hands.
"No, I knew where I was going."
Re-buttoning the dress, Belle sighed. "That's what the wedding night's for, dear. You want Ella to have some genuine ammunition against me?" she laughed.
Gaston didn't. "You let her intimidate you too much."
"She doesn't intimidate, she annoys. Let's go."
They walked quickly out of Lyons and to the Town Square where the Door opened for them as they passed. Being of a magical sort of door, it had many entryways scattered across the Resort and even over to Anaheim, should the situation warrant it. Tonight, they were merely headed for the tunnels below the Magic Kingdom, the same sojourn they had made earlier that day for their big revelation.
They met a rather somber Ariel and Eric at the staircase leading up to the restaurant in the Castle where the reception was taking place. "Are you all right?" Belle asked Ariel as they climbed the spiraling stairs.
"Of course," she replied as Eric shook his head behind her.
"Well, if this is a horrifically boring affair, we'll just play hooky from now on, and let Ella be sanctimonious by herself."
"I heard that."
Ella glared down at Belle coolly from the stair landing. "On the most important, the most glorious day of Animasia's history, you're belittling your peers. Have you no tact?"
"Apparently not, nor does that bother me as your definition of tact seems to be completely relative."
"Do you hear what she puts me through!" Ella exclaimed to a shadow on her right. The shadow turned, revealing her husband who was obviously trying to hide a smirk. "Actually, dear, you can be a little self-righteous at times," he said, desperately swallowing his grin.
The princess turned a few shades paler than her silver dress, then stormed off without another word. As soon as she was gone, the prince started laughing. "Sorry about that. As I'm sure you know, she can be rather trying."
"Good to see you, John," Gaston greeted, shaking hands with the prince as they filed past him.
Still backstage, they could hear the sounds of people in the restaurant the wall over, talking, clinking wine glasses, laughing. The restaurant, coincidentally named "Cinderella's Royal Table," had been closed that evening to the public to allow a group of Misner's friends and Hollywood allies a chance to mingle with the leading ladies of Animasia. The guests just hadn't known it at the time, assuming Misner had invited them down to Orlando for a post-New Year's Eve gathering.
The rest of the Entourage stood outside a set of double doors, waiting for their introduction. Aurora and Snow chatted about plans for the rest of the week, while Jasmine kept trying to get Aladdin to keep his feather-tipped hat on.
"It's uncomfortable, Jasmine!" he kept futilely protesting as she'd mash it back onto his head.
"Then you should have combed your hair!"
Brian Alder appeared from the front, quickly closing the door behind him, tittering and clucking like a mother hen. "Wonderful, wonderful, you're all here now, looks like we can take places in just a minute and- Gaston. You're here. Why?"
Mustering all the patience he could, Gaston answered in a measured tone, "I'm escorting my fiancée to her gathering."
In one breath, Brian rushed, "You're getting married? Congratulations! That's wonderful news. Gaston, may I have a word with you, please?"
After a stiff nod, Gaston followed Brian around a corner and into a small storage room. "I need to be level with you," Brian said in a low voice. "You can't be with her right now."
Even under the layers of linen and suede, the man could see pounds of muscle tensing, and a glowering, exasperated glare rained down on him. "She is going to be my wife! What the hell is so hard about this?"
"Nothing, Gaston. That's excellent, I'm happy for the both of you, mazel tov," he said brusquely. He paused, regaining composure and thinking carefully of his next statement. "You know the constant tongue lashings Ella's been giving her? That's what the world will do to her if you go out into that room with her at your side."
"And why is that?"
"Look…humans are going to have a pretty specific idea of who you all are, everyone from Animasia. They've seen your films so they're going to immediately assume they know you."
"Like you did," Gaston interjected coldly.
"I learned," Brian said. "And they will, too. But not if you force a change on them immediately. Humans…change is hard for them."
"And it's not too easy on us, is it?"
"Change never is."
Gaston looked down on the little man, consternation deepening his scowl. "I don't like you."
"I don't really care. But Gaston, if you truly love Belle, you'll stay away for right now."
"Is that a threat?"
"No. Just the truth."
"Tell me something, then, Alder. Why are you making her face them if they could hurt her?"
Brian looked genuinely remorseful. "That's what humans are like. This is the world you wanted to join. It's not too different, is it?"
After a fearful moment of silence, Gaston left without another word, swinging the door wide. Though perhaps more angry than he'd ever been in his life, he was extremely, almost disconcertingly calm when he beckoned Belle to him. "I want you to have a good time tonight," he murmured.
She looked at him, thunderstruck. "What did he tell you?"
"This is your night, Belle. Our night will be later."
"You're not leaving!"
With every ounce of courage he could muster, he gave her a sad little smile. "A villain doesn't belong in the midst of heroes, not yet anyway. I'll be waiting for you tonight at the cottage."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"Belle-"
"Can I say something?" Brian asked, poking his head between them.
The calm face rapidly fell apart. "Butt out."
Ignoring him, Brian pressed on. "Belle, listen, you are worth more to us than the lot of them combined."
"And that makes me feel so much better," she retorted angrily.
"If you stay tonight, I promise this won't happen again. Ever."
"Darling, just stay and enjoy yourself. You've waited so long for this."
"We both have."
"It's just for tonight, Belle," Brian reiterated.
She looked up at Gaston, reading his eyes. He nodded, and her shoulders slumped. "Fine," she muttered, shaking her head. "Fine."
Alder beamed as they both ignored him. "Thank you, Belle, thank you."
She said nothing, even as Gaston kissed her good night. Absently stroking the delicate orchid petals, she watched him leave, vaguely aware that the entire Entourage was straining to listen in on the conversation. Silently she walked back to the cluster, counting the seconds for the next barb to come stinging out.
Eleven and a half. "I would have almost believed your theatrics if you had followed him. Please do."
"Ella, stop it."
Everyone looked up in surprise as the admonition came from Aurora. "It's getting old."
Obviously stunned, Ella stood gawking at the fair princess through the Entourage's introduction. Hearing her screen name announced, she snapped back into her photogenic poise and walked into the entranceway, into the restaurant bearing her name.
"It'll be okay," Ariel whispered to Belle, squeezing her hand before she too disappeared into the limelight.
When Belle's name was called, she wondered if she should go out after all. She should just follow Gaston back to Animasia and wait for tomorrow when all the Kingdoms would be equally received, as opposed to a select few. She really didn't have any reason to be here; why bother with this now? Tomorrow, after waiting for years, wasn't that far away.
And yet, the applause grew louder.
And appeasing her curiosity had always been a weak spot.
She took a hesitant step forward, then another, finally arriving on the dais in front of a slew of wildly clapping humans. The scene took her breath away: a vaulted chamber dressed in warm shades of vermillion cloth and a large stain-glass window overlooking Fantasyland while one fantasy was made true. The clusters of people kept applauding, some actually whistling, calling Belle's name. Stunned, she demurely slipped off to the side where the other princesses stood, waiting for Jasmine's name to be called.
The emcee who had presented them was not Nicholas Misner. Rather, the CEO waited by the Entourage, looking fairly paternal. Once all had been introduced, Misner began to privately introduce them to several people in attendance while the rest of the partygoers mingled. Finally, the eleven were allowed to interact without adhering to a script, walking into the crowd like equals.
That was the idea, anyway.
"Omigawd, I've always loved that dress!"
Belle politely smiled as a too-tanned, too-skinny young woman began talking to her. "Thank you."
"That's like, the best dress ever! God, I wish I could have one."
Here, Belle thought mischievously, wondering just what would happen if she began to disrobe in the middle of restaurant. Instead of giving the public relations team a massive headache, Belle simply suggested, "Have you ever talked to someone about making you one?"
The woman's eyes widened. "That's a great idea! I'm going to go talk to Merchandising right now! Thanks!"
As the vapid young woman left in a whirlwind, Belle could only shake her head, hoping that her next conversation would be more enlightening.
It wasn't. An older, rather rotund gentleman approached her this time, giving her a little bow, lightly tripping over himself in the process. "Good evening, young lady."
"Good evening, monsieur."
"I noticed that you entered the hall alone. Is there something wrong with your companion?"
"He…wasn't able to come."
"Ah. Unfortunate for him, but how fortunate for us."
Us?
"May I offer you some companionship this evening?"
Thinking quickly, Belle offered, "Thank you, sir, but I should not neglect all the other guests tonight."
"Yes, I suppose you're right," he sighed. "But if you are ever left alone again, please do look me up." He handed her a small business card, bowed again, tripped, and shuffled back into the throng. Once out of sight, Belle crumpled the piece of paper and looked for some sort of waste receptacle.
The evening proceeded in much the same manner. Introductions, polite questions, smiles, nothing said worth the price paid for admittance.
A brief respite came when Aurora slid up to Belle, handing her a glass of merlot. "Thank you," Belle said, still a little wary, though accepting the drink.
"Ella can be a bit much," Aurora explained after a pause.
"You noticed."
"She really was a good person."
"Was."
"I don't know why she fixated on you."
"That makes two of us."
Aurora looked at Belle, her blue gown highlighting her pale visage. "I've never enjoyed the children's pageants until this year. You really did a good job."
"Thank you."
They regarded each other for a moment longer before Misner came to sweep them away for less stimulating conversation.
At one point, Belle thought she might be on the verge of a communication breakthrough. She was talking to a young couple, and the course of conversation had wound itself to the president's address that night. Seeing this as a logical jumping point, Belle asked excitedly, "So who do you think will win the party elections?"
Both eyed their mate in askance. "We were supposed to vote on something tonight?"
"No," she laughed, praying they weren't being serious. "The Democratic and Republican parties. Who do you think will get the nomination? I'm very excited that this year happens to be a year that the nation gets to elect a new president."
The same blank stare. "It is?"
"Yes…in November…I believe…"
"That's this year?"
"Yes."
"I don't know, then. Don't really pay too much attention."
"To your nation's politics?"
"It's boring."
"Ah."
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, the woman asked, "So, where's Beast?"
"He's shy."
The answer did not come from Belle. She turned her head to see Brian standing next to her, looking as though he's just stated the weather. "It's the crowds, you see."
"Oh," the couple collectively nodded. Looking disappointed, they bade good-bye and went off to find another princess to bore.
"He's shy?" Belled demanded, bristling at the thought. "You've never even met him!"
"They don't know that. And they don't have to know that, either." Letting the comment hand, Brian slipped away, leaving a thoroughly infuriated Belle.
"You're not getting the best humanity has to offer tonight."
Belle looked up to see a graying matron, her long, loose-fitting gown a radical departure from all the flesh-grabbing fashions around the room. Clear green eyes appraised Belle with compassion and sympathy. She had a grounded sense to her that seemed sorely lacking among the crowd.
Refraining from cynicism, Belle asked politely, "No?"
"Oh, dear lord, honey, no. Half these folks wouldn't know a politician from a polliwog, and the half that did would be hitting them both up for money. I'm surprised you haven't been asked for any favors yet."
"I think I may have," Belle laughed.
"You didn't agree to it, whatever it was, did you?"
"No. It seemed to have been made in the midst of serious inebriation."
"Drunk like a skunk, was he?"
Belle laughed again, slipping off some of the clouds that had gathered. "I'm Belle," she introduced belatedly.
The woman nodded knowingly, then offered her hand to shake, which Belle immediately took. "Susanna Dalton. My husband Manny- Armand Dalton," she gestured over to the foyer where a tall, middle-aged man stood laughing with a small group of gentlemen, "he's the Chief of Operations of the four theme parks here in Orlando. Which is the only reason we got invited here tonight. He's going to be coordinating events with you gals a lot."
"Does he work at all with Brian Alder?"
"Can't stand the man. Didn't know why until today, but Manny hates him."
"So your husband was sequestered as well?"
"Just for the past two weeks. Lousy time to do it, though- our kids were flying down for Christmas."
Belatedly, it occurred to Belle how much effort had gone into Animasia's secrets, how much had been sacrificed that they simply didn't know about. "I'm sorry."
"Oh, honey, don't be. You all had to get out of there at some point, and New Year's certainly seems like a good time. Especially from a marketing standpoint."
"Marketing?"
"Nothing for you to worry about tonight," Susanna replied. "And hopefully not for a long time after. And as for the answer to your question-"
"Hmm?"
"The Dems are going to elect Al Gore, hands down. As for the Republicans…it'll come down to Bush and McCain, and my money's on McCain."
A knot uncurled itself in Belle's stomach. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it. And if you ever need anything, just let Manny know, and he'll take care of you- or just let me handle it," she laughed.
Belle smiled, thanked Susanna, and felt quite relieved that there seemed to be someone out here who didn't offer up any false pretenses and appeared to be genuinely concerned for the well-being of the Animasians. It was nice change of pace from the rest of the evening.
"…My fellow Americans, we have all seen something today that has never been seen before. We know now that we are not the only rational beings on this planet. This is a discovery that should make all of us pause and then go out and greet our new neighbors.
For some, this may be a truly exciting event, a time to build new bridges. Others may be less sure, more guarded. And still others may be downright fearful. And those who are fearful, I ask only to consider this: there can be nothing evil about beings who were created to bring joy to the world…"
-President Bill Clinton, from his Address to the Nation, 8:00 PM, January 1, 2000
The Tapestry was still weaving itself as Mickey entered the Silent Chamber. Threads the color of sunrise and mourning leapt around each other, plaiting together the latest Moment to grace the Palace's walls. That it chose to create itself within the Silent Chamber just plunged Mickey into a deeper level of foreboding.
It was a gorgeous piece, no question. Morning hues gracefully bathed the Castle in gentle pastels, creating the perfect fairy-tale backdrop for an event just as improbable. The Parade of Kingdoms had already started, Mickey smiling happily for the photographers, jaw clenched in a lie. Minnie walked next to him, beautiful and sincere as always. Donald, Daisy and Goofy followed, looking less optimistic than one might expect. Snow, her husband and the Dwarfs were just beginning to emerge out from the arched gate.
It was also the largest out of all the Tapestries, stretching some 30 feet along the wall, giving the illusion it was scaled to life. He paced it, looking at the castle, the crowds, his own face presenting its own illusion of happiness.
The last of the threads tucked themselves into place, completing the Tapestry. Though he hadn't done so for years, Mickey felt compelled to step into the Moment, to observe, to see all that he may have missed in passing.
He reached through the threads…
"Mickey!"
He didn't even need to ask. Bolting away from the Tapestry, towards the door and to the throne room, Mickey ran, following Minnie's voice.
It was not a pretty sight that met his eyes upon arrival.
"Dammit, Eric, we were just talking about this!" Taka growled, pacing in front of the two renegade members of the Entourage. The rest of those gathered seemed equally split, half behind Eric and Ariel, the other half behind Taka.
"You said that about Belle, Taka," Eric reminded him forcefully. "You didn't say anything about the other girls."
"Which you could have inferred, you idiot," Taka shot back.
"Stop it!"
Mickey's voice rang out, patience gone, nerves shot, appalled that the turmoil was already beginning here at the Palace. "Everyone stop. Now. And sit down."
Never seeing the Mouse so infuriated, all arguments stopped. Seats were taken in silence.
Minnie looked at Mickey, worry etched in her gaze. Mickey didn't look at her; rather, he simply waited, collecting himself before he trusted himself to speak.
When he did, it seemed quite irrelevant to the previous happenings. "Robin, were you ever able to visit Toontown?"
Robin looked at Marian, both puzzled, before answering. "Once, not long before the mirror disappeared. There really wasn't much to see."
"Not by the time you came, no there wasn't," Mickey said.
"What's Toontown?" Elisa asked, a little put off by the fact that there seemed to be a place that no one had ever bothered to tell her about.
"Animasia wasn't the only place where…Toons lived, Detective," Mickey quietly explained, pondering over the title. "Toontown was kinda our 'sister' city. The Warner Brothers Studios inadvertently created Toontown just like Walt and Ub created Animasia. Accidents and inadvertent magic can be a pretty powerful combination."
"So what happened?"
Mickey remained quiet, staring at the ebony table for a long time. "Toontown had the tendency to seem more lively, more…hip than Animasia did. Course, that's how we saw it here. The ones who actually lived in Toontown were a bit more cynical. They saw it as just another place. They couldn't wait to leave to go to the Outside.
"But they didn't. And it was the waiting that killed them. While we kept growing, adding new Kingdoms every couple of years, but Toontown just…it got stagnant. There weren't that many of them to begin with and once the resentment started, it just went downhill from there."
"The resentment?" Elisa repeated with a touch of incredulousness.
"Do you remember the Night of Dissension?"
"Um…yes."
"Why do you think that was such a terrible night?"
Elisa looked around at the faces of her comrades, wondering if she was the only one who thought the Mouse had gone off his rocker. "Because the Exiles were attacking us?"
"It was the spell they put on us, Detective, that could have been lethal."
"What, when we were arguing?"
"Yes."
"How?"
At this point, Minnie stepped in, placing her hand over Mickey's. "It's the intangibles, Elisa, that kill. Jealousy, bitterness, hate, all things that are tinged with evil destroy us. We were created out of a magic that bound us to life through benevolence. When anger is allowed to simmer unchecked, when envy tints all that we see, those feelings begin to corrode us. Humans suffer through byproducts of these emotions- thefts, betrayals, wars even. But with us, the magic that gives us life is lessened when we allow ourselves to unabashedly hate. That's what happened to the Toons in Toontown. Their envy of each other, and of us in Animasia, led to their downfall and eventually their deaths."
The throne room echoed the drafts that slit though the doors, silence reigning for a long while.
Mickey finally broke the stillness. "I brought that up as my excuse. That's why I put all of you through this, why I brought up the idea to join humanity in the first place. I've tried so hard to not let what happened in Toontown happen here. And I come in here to find that on the first day of integration, two members of the New Kingdom are already hashing it out with each other. We can't be at odds with each other so soon. If we do, then Misner wins, and we have to do whatever he says. We won't be able to join with humanity as equals. We'll always just be the entertainment. And we're so much more than that, fellas."
Looking across the table, Mickey smiled at the newest arrival. "Ariel, we're glad you're here. We need all the help we can get. But I think you'll agree that none of the others in the Entourage can know about this."
Gratified that her presence wasn't going to rip apart the resistance, Ariel nodded, then bit her lip. "Even Belle?"
"Even Belle."
Elisa sighed.
Mickey ignored it. "Now, it's been a long day, so let's just review what happened and what we can expect in the coming days. Ariel and Eric, I'd especially like to hear what happened at your gathering tonight."
Tension ebbing, voices joining in conversation, peace in the New Kingdom had been restored. While Marian and Donald talked about the Revelation that morning, Minnie leaned over to Mickey and whispered, "I thought you were going to tell them about Puck?"
"Later, Min. They've got enough to worry about right now."
Minnie shrugged, squeezed his hand again, then laughed at Ariel's anecdote of Ella's befuddlement earlier that night.
My fellow brothers,
We have been given our mission.
Centuries turn and nothing happens. So long have men waited for signs to appear, only to wait out their fruitless lives for nothing. And then, in the space of an instant, a sign appears on the eastern horizon.
The sign is this:
Humanity will be corrupted.
Unless we act now, truly we are witnessing the end.
It does not have to be this way.
Magic is not the way of the world. Magic is not the way of believers. Magic cannot create good things, as magic is entrenched in wickedness. But magic can be deceitful, and taint and destroy even the pure of heart.
We know the truth behind these creatures. It is no mere coincidence that they appeared when the world is most vulnerable to their apparent charms. They may beguile the masses with their so-called magic, but we are wise enough to know the difference between their pretty words and the Word. We are the ones who must be strong.
It is enticing to believe, as they would have us believe, that there can be a "dialogue" between our world and theirs, that we can "coexist" together in this world.
But we know the truth:
This was never their world to begin with.
Babylon will rise again.
They will be buried in the rubble of the rising city.
-Electronic mail distributed among the Sons of Men militia, January 5, 2000