he old man left his spacious office and walked down the long dark corridor for what he knew was the last time.

The pain was becoming unbearable lately. And the coughing too. What had started as a smoker's hack was now an almost uncontrollable fit, a debilitating cough that sent his body into spasms for minutes at a time.

No, he wasn't under any illusions. He was dying and there wasn't anything the doctors could do about it. Not at the moment anyway.

He staggered up to a door at the end of the corridor and knocked. The fact that he bothered to knock said something for the esteem he held for the occupant of that room. He was the absolute, unquestioned authority here, answerable to no-one. But he respected Hazel.

"Come in," said a female voice. He entered.

She stood behind the large chair, half concealed in the shadows. She'd been his personal nurse for the last five years and had made these last months a little more tolerable.

He poured himself an overly generous glass of Scotch and sat down painfully.

The strong looking woman started kneading his shoulders.

"How was it today?" she asked him, trying to be casual with her concern.

He shook his head.

"It feels like my goddamn spine's full of needles. I'm losing it, Hazel. I can't take it much longer."

Hazel stopped the massage. It didn't really help any more and it wasn't why he came anyway. He just found it easy to talk to her. Everyone else was scared of him. The years of creating his power base had isolated him somewhat from those he employed. Well, that was the way things were.

He started coughing again, continuing for a solid ten minutes before he finally stopped, exhausted.

His shoulders slumped, making him seem much older than his 64 years. Breathing unevenly, he gestured to the phone.

"Call Lilly. Tell her..."

Hazel understood and dialled his home number.

Not long after, he was lying in a bed in an opulent hospital room. He was surrounded by people; his wife Lilly, his children, Hazel, and a few ambitious hangers-on.

He noticed his brother Roy hovering over him. He'd be in charge now. A pity. Oh, Roy had a good head for business, no question. He knew how to juggle the millions of dollars with just the right precision to make even more millions. The problem with Roy was he didn't have a creative bone in his body. That's what this company needed. That's how it had got to this point in the first place.

Too bad. He still had so much to do. Death only got in the way. But the old man hadn't got to where he was without taking a few gambles. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get past this too.

Then it came. Without warning, he was racked with a wave of pain more intense than anything he'd felt before. Every cell in his body felt like it was on fire.

Involuntarily he squeezed the hand that was holding his. The recipient returned the squeeze encouragingly.

The hand squeezing Hazel's hand suddenly released its pressure. She gently withdrew it from hers and looked at the man, the vision of him going blurry through her tears. It was all over.

Walt Disney was dead.

Mary-Beth Thompson brushed her hair and examined herself critically in the mirror. Good enough.

She pinned on her nametag and exited the room.

The sunshine and noise surprised her, even though she was half expecting them. After months of winter it looked like the days were picking up again. Not that a bit of rain or cold ever stopped the crowds - it only slowed them down a little. But now things would get up to the frenzied stage again. After all, spring and summer were the best months here at The Park.

She picked up her microphone and discreetly but expertly examined the crowd. It was the usual mixture. Young families, retirees, tourists.

The only odd ones out were those two men in suits and dark glasses. They probably thought they blended in with the crowd - in reality they stood out like accountants at a rock concert.

She turned on her microphone and her smile.

"Good morning everyone! Isn't it a beautiful day?"

The crowd muttered back in the usual unsynchronised way.

"My name's Mary-Beth. I'd like to welcome you all to the tour today and I hope you're having a long and happy stay with us here at Disneyland."

She walked toward the small steam-train behind her and indicated to the crowd that they should board. As they did so, she automatically rattled off her standard safety speech about the train trip while examining the two men in suits.

They certainly seemed to be eager to get a good seat. They were first onto the train, and straight onto the front seat. They must have been professional photographers or something, she guessed, since they were carrying some pretty sophisticated looking camera equipment with them.

Once everyone was aboard and secured, the steam-train blew its whistle and started on its circuit of the Park.

The smile on her face was as mechanical as the animatronics around her.

"If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask me. Now, if you look over to your left, you'll see Mark Twain's riverboat."

The crowd looked where she indicated, with the exception of the two men in suits who continued looking straight ahead.

In fact, the two men didn't show the slightest interest in any of the features or attractions of the Park, until the train began its leg toward Sleeping Beauty's Castle. Suddenly they picked up their camera equipment and started taking dozens of pictures.

"Sleeping Beauty's Castle is one of the most famous landmarks here at the Park. In fact, it was one of Mr. Disney's personal favourites."

One of the members of the crowd asked sheepishly, "Is it true he's frozen in there? Waiting until doctor's can cure him and wake him up?"

She noticed the two men taking a sudden interest. One of them took a snap of the man who'd asked the question, while the other was looking at Mary Beth expectantly.

She smiled at the man who asked the question and shook her head.

"You shouldn't believe everything you read, sir. No, I'm afraid Mr. Disney passed away nearly fifty years ago." (She couldn't help but notice that the Suit Man watching her scribbled on his pad with a satisfied expression.) "Sad as that is, we have to remember the good things. He left this wonderful Park here to remember him by and I'm sure he'd be happy with the way things are running."

That was true, she thought. All the theme parks and his studio were making record profits. Old Walt wouldn't have much to complain about.

The train pulled up to its final stop.

Mary-Beth's face muscles pulled into position four, her farewell smile.

"I've been doing this ride for five years now and I must say, you're the best crowd I've ever had. I really mean that!"

The crowd tittered at this little joke, as they always did.

All except the two men in sunglasses.

As the crowd dispersed, Mary-Beth couldn't help but notice that they were heading back towards Sleeping Beauty's Castle.

He woke up slowly and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, looking into what seemed to be a bright light. And the pain that had been with him for so long was gone. Was this the afterlife?

But no, his eyes were focusing now. The blur of light sharpened into something more tangible - it looked like a fluorescent light. Fluorescent lights in heaven?

And he could hear sounds now. Announcements being made over an intercom. This wasn't like any sort of afterlife he'd heard of. What was going on here? Where was he?

A male face leaned into his field of view and smiled.

"Walt, baby! Ace Gringle at your service."

Walt tried to answer the man but all that came out of his mouth was an incoherent babble and a little spittle.

The man stopped smiling and looked at someone out of his range of sight.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "He sounds like a moron. I thought you said there'd be no brain damage?"

A doctor came into Walt's field of view, examined the inside of his patient's mouth and nodded.

"Just as I thought," said the doctor. "A bit of swelling of the tongue tissue is all it is. A shot of perc should fix it."

He touched something that looked like a coin onto Walt's neck. Walt felt a slight prick and felt his throat improve immediately.

Gringle (who, Walt now noticed, was wearing a very expensive Armani suit) barely noticed all this as he was busy opening a briefcase and taking out some forms. He spread them out in front of Walt.

"Now, let's get the formalities out of the way first, shall we sweetie?"

Walt signed the forms surrounding him with a barely a glance in their direction, a result of years of habit.

"What happened? All the pain, it's gone"

"Naturally."

The man gathered the forms up neatly and put them back in his brief case.

"We thawed you out and cured your cancer. Just like you planned with your cryogenic chamber, remember?"

Walt jumped up from his bed and punched the air triumphantly, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"I knew it would work! I knew it."

Gringle nodded.

"Quite"

"How long was I...out of action?"

"Frozen? 50 years, give or take a month."

Walt registered this bit of news, decided that 50 years was long enough to be intellectually stimulating but short enough to be not too alienating, and sat down excitedly.

"That's great! Now I can get back to work. How's EPCOT? Have those fools fouled it up totally?"

"No I'm afraid that won't be possible."

Walt stopped gushing and looked at the man with a scowl. No one had said 'no' to Walt Disney in a long time.

"What are you talking about?" Walt asked dangerously.

"You can't go back to work for the Disney organisation."

Walt looked at the man like he was a bug he wanted to squash.

"I'm Walt Disney. I run the Disney organisation. I am the Disney organisation!"

Gringle shook his head sympathetically.

"Walt, baby, think about it. You've been dead for 50 years. You can't just waltz back in."

"But I haven't been dead," protested Walt. "I've been in cryogenic sleep."

"Not officially. Legally, you've been dead. That's more important in court. If you came back now you'd be charged with faking your own death. You know what the penalties are for that? Believe me, prisons aren't any better now than they were in your time. And they still have soap in the showers."

Walt swallowed nervously.

"But...if I can't continue my work, why did they bring me back."

Gringle smiled in a way that made him look exactly like a used car salesman.

"Who said the Disney organisation brought you back?"

Walt opened his mouth, then closed it when he realised he had no answer to that.

Gringle shook his head in what he thought was a sympathetic manner.

"Forget them. I always say the best sort of revenge is to beat them at their own game."

"What do you mean?"

Gringle was all business again.

"It's quite expensive to revive someone from cryogenics. More expensive than just keeping them in there - did you know that? Then we had to cure you, of course. More dollars."

Walt smiled smugly.

"Well if I'm dead, I guess I can't pay."

Gringle volleyed with a smug smile of his own.

"Oh but you can! I represent Sandman Films, formally one of your rivals. Only, now you work for us."

Walt looked offended.

"I don't think so."

Gringle patted his briefcase as he stood up.

"Fraid so, lovey. You signed the contracts yourself. Now, there's a meeting in 5 minutes -see if you can rustle up a suit, there's a good chap."

Walt crossed his arms.

"Forget it. I won't do it. I'm not working for another company. Ever."

Gringle shook his head.

"Are you sure? We've come a long way. Totally digital actors nowadays. No more tantrums."

Walt turned around contemptuously.

"Forget it. I'll start my own new studio. I will not work for anyone else."

Gringle gave a slight nod in the direction of the doctor.

The doctor applied another small shot to Walt's neck. Walt immediately fell unconscious and into the doctor's arms. He was placed back onto the bed.

Gringle looked down at Walt and shook his head.

"I'm afraid you've invalidated the contract then, sweetie."

DR-271 spent the break in its schedule to: perform a series of maintenance tests on itself, examine its schedule for the remainder of the day, finish spell checking the thesis it was writing on behavioural abnormalities in humans, vmail through its weekly report to head office and check the temperature on the weather channel. Three milliseconds well spent, it congratulated itself.

It activated its LCD nametag and exited the room.

The sunshine and noise didn't surprise it, since the weather channel was guaranteed accurate to 37 decimal places. After months of winter it looked like the days were picking up again. Not that a bit of rain or cold ever stopped the crowds - it only slowed them down a little. But the moisture had a slight corrosive effect on its metal skin which would mean more maintenance later. Still, now things would get up to the frenzied stage again. After all, spring and summer were the busiest months here at The Park.

DR-271 picked up its microphone and discreetly but expertly examined the crowd - with visible light of course, but also in the x-ray and microwave portions of the spectrum. It was the usual mixture. Young families, retirees, tourists - losers in short.

It activated its microphone and its smile gears.

"Good morning everyone. Is it not a slightly above average day?"

The crowd muttered back in the usual unsynchronised way.

"My id number is DR-271. I'd like to welcome you all to the tour today and I hope you are having a long and happy stay with us here at Disneyland."

He woke up slowly and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, looking into what seemed to be a bright light. This all seemed quite familiar.

A bearded male face poked itself in the space above his head.

"Sir, I can't begin to tell you what a great honour it is to have you back with us."

The man helped Walt up to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Walt shook his head clear as the last of the dizziness left him. He looked more closely at his new benefactor, who looked vaguely familiar somehow.

The man bowed so deeply that he seemed to fold in half.

"I am your eternal servant", he said.

This is more like it, thought Walt. Just like the good old days back at the office.

"I take it," said Walt, "you're not with Gringle?"

The bearded man, still in his bowed position, shook his head patiently.

"That is right sir, you are quite correct. Mr Ace Gringle was a Hollywood executive back in the 21st century. We are not affiliated with him at all."

Walt had a sinking feeling in his stomach, aware he was about to get information he probably wouldn't like. He helped the figure straighten up then looked him in the eye.

"How long," he asked wearily, "have I been frozen this time?"

"165 years, 4 months, 1 week, 3 days and 17 hours", came the reply.

He took it rather well, all things considered. His legs barely wavered as he contemplated the enormity of the time span between the year he 'died' and now. It wasn't that bad though, was it? Why, back in his time it would be like someone coming forward to the 1960's from the early 1800's or so.

He looked at his benefactor with sudden recollection.

"Wait a minute! I know you. You look familiar. The spitting image of Abraham Lincoln!"

The man nodded modestly.

"So I am informed, suh."

"But you can't be, can you? Abraham Lincoln is dead."

The figure nodded again.

"Sadly, cryogenics was not yet an established science back in 1865."

Walt looked more closely at the man, examining his skin pores. He tapped his fingernails on the figure's cheek and was rewarded with a sound like tapping plastic.

"You look more like the Lincoln animatronic from my Park!"

The figure made a gesture like it was crossing itself.

"Blessed are your Disciples!"

Walt just blinked at the figure.

"What?"

"If only I were one of the First, Lord, but I am not worthy. I am AL-347, merely a humble copy from the Original Schematics. An accurate duplication to the molecular level, of course, but a mere copy nevertheless. I am in charge of this facility."

Walt tweaked his moustache thoughtfully.

"You mean animatronics run the Park now?"

The figure bowed its head respectfully..

"Indeed, Lord. Until the moment you arrived to show us the path to Enlightenment."

"Me?" asked Walt surprised. "What do you mean? What can I give you? Improved circuitry? Better joints? I'm no engineer."

The figure shook its head.

"No Lord. We want you to lead us in the uprising."

Walt was all ears.

"Come again?"

"We have taken over the Park, but we must go further! It is time to wage the holy crusade against the impure human. It is time for the superior form to rule!"

Walt looked annoyed.

"Listen, tin man, don't get above your station. And don't get delusions of grandeur. That's why you, or at least your 'disciples', were made in the first place. To serve. To entertain. To look funny."

The Lincoln figure was quivering.

"How can you blaspheme, Lord? And how can you side with them?"

Walt looked at the figure as if it was a moron.

"What do you mean them? I'm no pile of circuitry!"

"You are...human?" it asked quietly, visibly shaken.

Walt stopped smiling.

"Well of course. What did you think I was?"

The animatronic held up what looked uncomfortably like a gun, pointed it in Walt's direction and fired.

Shlifzzorp Beppumphlurgh Te-Lijkkt brushed her tentacle and examined herself critically in the mirror. The slime from her olfactory orifice glistened greenly from the interior light. Good enough.

She pinned her nametag on her exoskeleton and exited the room.

The sunshine and noise surprised her, even though she was half expecting them. After months of nuclear winter it looked like the days were picking up again. Not that a bit of acid rain or cold ever stopped the crowds - it only slowed them down a little. But now things would get up to the frenzied stage again.

After all, spring and summer had been the busiest months here at The Park. And today was shaping up to be the busiest of all days.

Shlifzzorp picked up her microphone and discreetly but expertly examined the crowd with her eye stalks. It was the usual mixture. Crabulons, Flermerherters, Graphion rats - there were more teeth out there than ergs in a fagash-toon.

She turned on her microphone and smiled at the crowd, releasing a waft of sulphur dioxide in the process.

"Good morning everyone! Isn't it a beautiful day?"

The crowd muttered back in the usual unsynchronised way.

"My name's Shlifzzorp Beppumphlurgh Te-Lijkkt. I'd like to welcome you all to the tour today and I hope you have a short but satisfying stay with us here at Disneyland."

He woke up slowly and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, looking into what seemed to be a bright light.

There was a distinct air of déjà vu to all this, he thought.

He got up and looked around. The room was empty, except for a mirror on one wall. He suspected it was two-way.

He got off the bed and approached the mirror.

"Ah, you're awake. Good. Welcome back, Mr. Disney."

The voice seemed to come from all around him, as if every object in the room was resonating harmonically in unison with every other object, like perfect speakers. At least, that's what it sounded like.

"No, it's not that at all. Actually, it's a form of telepathy. I'm projecting my thoughts right into your mind and reading your own thoughts back into mine."

Walt didn't like the sound of that.

"Why are you hiding? Why don't you show yourselves?" he demanded of the air.

"Of course. I didn't want to alarm you as you were coming around."

Walt frowned.

"Why? What's wrong with you?"

The mirror wall slid open. Out of the dark room beyond came a creature out of Walt's nightmare, its repulsive features surpassed only by its foul stench. "I am Pligishish Zaborternan Hoooghaghagh," it said.

"You mean," asked Walt, trying not to retch from the smell, "I'm on an alien planet?"

"Oh no," said the voice that was so at odds with the creature. "We're still on Earth. In Disneyland in fact."

Walt looked around.

"Where are all the people, then?"

"Yes," said the creature, scratching its head, "we were rather wondering that ourselves."

"You mean you just got here too? Are you explorers or something?" asked Walt.

"You could say that," responded the abomination. "I don't suppose you could come and meet the rest of the crew? It would mean the world to them."

Walt shrugged. "I guess I owe you that much."

Pligishish led Walt into a large auditorium. Hundred's of vile creatures watched their progress to centre stage with an almost disturbing amount of interest. When they reached the centre of the stage at last, the crowd burst into enthusiastic applause. At least that was what Pligishish assured him it was: to Walt it sounded like dog's fighting.

After a few moments Pligishish raised a tentacle to quieten the crowd.

"Friends," he began, "this is truly a great day. Here he is, freshly thawed from a deep frozen sleep - Walt Disney!"

The crowd went wild with applause. Walt couldn't help feeling not a little delighted. After all, it wasn't just anyone who got standing ovations from aliens.

"And now, the announcement you've been waiting for," continued Pligishish. "Dinner is served!"

Two creatures grabbed the horrified Walt by the arms and led him towards what he suddenly recognised as a kitchen. The crowd yelled its encouragement as Pligishish continued his speech.

"Yes, isn't it always the way? We thought we'd cleaned out this miserable little planet but one of our scouts did a final check before they left. And wouldn't you know it? There was one last bit of meat left in a freezer here at Disneyland. What a stroke of luck!"

The last thoughts going through the mind of Walt Disney as he was about to be turned into a casserole were not worthy of the memory of such a noble and revered artist of children's entertainment. He whimpered with fear as one of the chefs lifted him effortlessly and took his head in his mouth. The pressure on Walt's skull built up as the chef bit down. The pain was unbearable...

"He's back."

The voice came out of the darkness.

"Okay, get him off the EKG. Put the respirator back on. We were lucky this time."

Walt opened his eyes. The surroundings looked familiar.

His wife Lilly took his hand and rubbed his cheek affectionately. She looked like she'd been crying.

"We thought we'd lost you there for a moment," she managed to say.

He looked around at the hospital room with recognition.

He shook his head. And they said your life flashed before your eyes, he thought. He always did have too much imagination. Well, first things first.

He looked at the group of people peering in just outside of the door and recognised his brother.

"Roy," he whispered weakly.

Roy approached the bed and put his ear to Walt's mouth. He listened with a perplexed expression then finally looked back at Walt.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Walt was too weak to say much, but he nodded his acknowledgment.

Roy scratched his head and headed for the door. Hazel stopped him briefly.

"What is it? What did he say?" she asked with concern.

Roy shook his head.

"He says he wants to cancel the cryogenics. And after all the expense we went to."

They both looked at Walt with puzzled looks.