“Me?”

“The five of you,” Wayne said.

Finn jumped away from the man. Again he thought: how complicated can a dream get? If Wayne was only a part of the dream, how could he possibly know about the four other hosts? How could he talk about Finn’s audition tape the way he had? It was all related, all rolled into one, but Finn couldn’t sort it out.

Finn said, “You’re talking about MGM Studios.”

“Of course I am,” Wayne said. “You see? I knew you were the right one. You’re the leader, Finn.”

“I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about,” Finn said.

“Nice try. But of course you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about. You just don’t want to face it. Perfectly understandable. That will change.”

“A fable,” Finn said, testing him again. Could a dream remember itself?

“The moon,” Wayne reminded him. “Don’t forget the moon.”

I won’t.”

“All five of you. I need you together. Here. All in the same place at the same time. I can explain it to you then. Once. As a group. Just the one time. You can decide—as a group—to help us or not.”

“Us?” Finn said.

“I’ll explain that as well .”

“This is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had!” Finn said, not realizing he was shouting.

“You’ll get over it,” Wayne said. He raised his right hand—the one carrying the black remote-control fob—and pressed the button with his thumb.

Finn awoke, sitting up in bed. His bedside clock read 2:07 A.M. He collected himself, checked his surroundings. He reached out and touched the glass of water next to the clock. Just the feel of it was reassuring. Thank goodness, he thought.

A dream? he wondered. “Whoa,” he heard himself say aloud. “What a dream!” This time his voice sounded more the way it always sounded, which reminded him of how thin and electronic it had sounded in the park.

“Whoa,” he repeated, just to hear himself say it. He scratched an itch on his head, and another on his belly. That felt better. He lay back down, his head on the pillow, his green eyes wide open to the dark room.

All at once Finn spotted a shaft of light—bluish light—on his ceiling. It was in the shape of a knife blade. Moonlight.

Finn slipped out of bed with trepidation. He crept toward the window, afraid to look. The closer he got to it, the more his face was bathed in that pale light seeping through a small crack in the curtains.

Finn raised his arm and caught sight of his watch. His arm appeared solid. It did not glow and shimmer the way it had while he was with Wayne. That came as a relief.

Finn parted the curtains.

There, out the window, hanging in the exact same place in the sky, where Wayne had pointed it out to him, Finn saw the curving smile of a half-moon. Could he have known that in his sleep? How? He looked again.

The moon seemed to be laughing at him.

2

The halways of Finn’s middle school could sometimes feel as long as runways. Late for class, he found this to be one of those times. Steel lockers occupied most of the space between the doors to the classrooms. The lockers were covered with stickers and pictures of movie stars or pro athletes, which instantly distinguished a girl’s locker from a boy’s. Fluorescent-tube lighting cast a sickly glow over everything, and made human skin look vaguely greenish.

“He said there was a fable. A story of some kind,” Finn said to the boy standing next to him.

“That my friends and I are supposed to save the park, or something.” He realized how ridiculous this sounded. “Whatever that means.”

“By ‘friends’ you mean like, me?” Dillard Cole asked. Dillard ate enough for two kids and had the body to show for it.

“He didn’t mean you, Dillard,” Finn said gently, trying not to hurt the guy’s feelings. “Not exactly. He meant the other…the hosts. At Disney World. The DHIs.”

“No way.”

“Way,” Finn said, hurrying off to his fourth-period classroom.

“It was only a dream!” Dillard shouted after him.

Finn wasn’t so sure about that.

“We’re honored you could join us, Mr. Whitman,” said Mr. Richardson as Finn rushed in to his world history class. Mr. Richardson was probably the most boring teacher in the entire school.

He’d lived in the U.S. for twenty-some years, but still spoke with a thick British accent. He sounded like a pompous snob.

Finn checked the wall clock; he was eight minutes late, just under the ten-minute deadline when Richardson would have given him a tardy. Three tardies meant after-school study hall. Finn already had collected two others, both from science class.

“You’ll sit up front, please,” Mr. Richardson said, indicating an empty chair. Torture on top of humiliation. “For the record, your notoriety pulls no weight in my class. I beg you to remember that when grades are issued. I find the idea of child actors tedious at best.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Finn said, sliding down into the chair, resentful that he’d been made to apologize.

He’d taken the job at Disney World somewhat against his will, mostly at his mother’s urging.

At the time she’d had no idea she was making him into a middle-school rock star. He remembered it well.

* * *

“There will be money in it,” his mother had said. “Your father and I can put a little something away for your college.”

“I don’t know, Mom,” Finn had complained.

“This is Walt Disney World, don’t forget. You would be a host, like a guide, in Walt Disney World.”

“It’s not exactly me. ”

“It’ll look like you. Sound like you. It’ll seem like you to everyone but you. You’d be there for years, Finn Whitman. Maybe forever. You can’t get any ‘cooler’ than Disney World.”

His mother didn’t know everything, but when she was right she was right. Finn loved the Disney parks. So did his friends. Even though they lived in Orlando, they all went to the parks whenever they could afford it. “But the Magic Kingdom, Mom? It’s for little kids. At Disney-MGM, sure! Animal Kingdom would be awesome. But the Magic Kingdom?”

“You love the Magic Kingdom, and you know it. Besides, the rest of your family would get complimentary passes—several a year, every year, for life. As in, forever. We could basically go whenever we want.”

“Without me.”

“I thought you just said you’re too old for the Magic Kingdom.” Finn’s mom could twist almost anything he said. He picked his arguments carefully with her. She had explained the terms of the contract to him, but Finn hadn’t really paid attention.

“Tell me about the disguise stuff again,” he said.

“You would only be allowed to visit the Magic Kingdom with prior approval. Once permission is granted, you’d still have to go in disguise. But a hat and sunglasses would be enough. You’d only have to wear them when you’re in the Magic Kingdom. They can’t have two of you running around, the real you and the hologram-host you. It makes sense if you think about it.”

It did make sense, but he wasn’t about to admit that.

She said, “It sounds so easy. All you do is let them film you walking and gesturing. You read the script a couple times into a microphone. They process the film, or whatever, and, presto!

You’re a hologram-host at the Magic Kingdom. With a college nest egg and lifetime complimentary passes. Finn, you love special effects! What they’re offering is for you to be the special effect. How much cooler can that be?” She was right again, but he resisted an all-out agreement. His mother had once called a new toaster “high-tech.” What did she know?

“All I have to do is audition?” he asked, testing her.

“That’s right! They might not even take you.”

“Mom,” Finn said, “this is me we’re talking about. Of course they’ll take me.”