Walt and the Visitor

Startled, Walt found himself in the middle of his apartment above the firehouse on Mainstreet, USA. He could have sworn that just moments ago, he had been sitting at his desk in his office at the studio.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” he muttered to himself as he looked around the apartment. Everything was just as he had left it the last time that he and Lillian had visited it. “This must be a dream.”

He did not remember falling asleep, nor did he have a history of falling asleep without warning, but there was always a first time for everything.

“Is it not fantastic when you realize that you are dreaming?” a familiar, high-pitched voice said behind him. “Think of all the possibilities!”

Walt smiled and turned to the speaker. There stood, on his hindlegs, a mouse roughly the size a large child. The mouse wore shorts, shoes, and gloves but no shirt, and his ears were rather rounded even for a rodent. All in all, one could say that the figure was…cartoonish.

“Ah, my good friend, Mickey Mouse!” Walt declared, opening his arms as if to hug the creature before finally offering him a single hand to shake.

Mickey looked at the hand, seemingly unsure of what to do with it, before finally taking it in both of his hands and giving it a firm shake.

Walt arched a brow and chuckled.

“What’s the matter, old friend? Forgotten how to shake hands?”

“Well, where I come from, we do not shake hands,” Mickey replied. “Oh, and I am not Mickey Mouse.”

Walt chuckled again, this time nervously.

“What do you mean, you’re not Mickey? I can see you right in front of me!” Walt paused. “And why are you talking so…strangely?”

“Well, I am not from around here,” Mickey replied. His big eyes never left Walt, causing the normally composed man to squirm. “I only took this shape because it would make you most comfortable, although why you would be most comfortable around an anthropomorphic rodent, I have not the slightest clue.”

Walt blinked and put his fingers together, clearly agitated.

“Well, of course I’d be comfortable around you! You’re my creation! Well, mine and Ub’s, but that doesn’t matter now…wait, why am I justifying myself to you? Who are you? What are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here?”

Mickey held his large, gloved hands up, trying to soothe the frazzled man.

“Calm yourself, Walt, I come in peace—”

“From where? And why?”

“You can say that I came from the stars, and that I am here to deliver a message to you.”

Walt paced the floor for a minute, and Mickey—this visitor from “the stars”—allowed him to collect his thoughts. Then he folded his arms over his chest and sat on one of the couches. He glanced at Mickey and tilted his head forward.

“I’m listening.”

Mickey smiled, but it seemed distorted, unnatural.

“Thank you.” Mickey’s face returned to neutral. “What you are doing right now for the 1964 World’s Fair—particularly with the Abraham Lincoln robot—is crucial to what the world will become. You must continue to work at it.”

Walt sighed and shook his head.

“That damn audio animatronic. It seems as though God himself doesn’t want us to do it.”

“I know it seems tough right now, but it is critical that you get these attractions done. They will launch not just Disneyland but the entire world in new directions that even you cannot imagine.”

“But that Lincoln—”

“Some of my top engineers are working with Mr. Gurr right now to give him ideas on how to make it work.” Again, Mickey gave Walt that twisted smile. “Do not worry, by tomorrow morning, you will find that your team has made leaps and bounds beyond anybody’s imagination.”

Walt smiled slightly, but it was tight.

“Is that all that you came to tell me? That I can’t give up on one robot?”

Mickey shook his head.

“No. There is one project even greater that you must accomplish after the World’s Fair. It will take everything that you have ever learned, and everything that you will ever learn and imagine, to accomplish, but you must do it in order for the world to advance in a direction in which it will thrive for centuries to come.”

Walt’s spine straightened, and his head tilted, his attention piqued.

“What is that?”

“EPCOT.”

“EPCOT?”

“Yes. The Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow. An entirely new city that you will build in order to show the world where it can go to live in harmony with the technological advances that it is making.”

“And you think that I can make it?”

“We think you are the only person on Earth who can lead this project.”

“But where do I start?”

Mickey approached Walt and raised his hand towards Walt’s forehead. Walt shrank back. Nevertheless, Mickey pressed a single finger to the middle of Walt’s forehead. Walt’s eyes flew open, his pupils enlarging, and his mouth dropped open. Then, Mickey withdrew his finger, and Walt’s expression returned to normal.

Walt shook his head, as if to clear his mind.

“That…what was that?” he asked, his voice quiet with awe.

“Those are the beginnings of the plans for EPCOT,” Mickey replied. “Your imagination and knowledge of your planet’s civics and laws will have to fill in the rest.”

“Yes…yes, of course, I can do that.” Walt grinned broadly. “I can do that!”

“We know you can.” Mickey paused in thought. “One more thing: quit smoking.”

Walt nodded, but he did not say anything.

“It seems our time here is up,” Mickey said as he backed away from Walt. “Go in peace, Mr. Disney.”

“Wait,” Walt said, reaching out to Mickey as everything around him started to fade to black. “Are you an angel?”

Mickey laughed.

“You can call me that, but you’d be wrong.”

***

Walt awoke with his head propped up on his hand, his elbow firmly resting on his desk. He was back at his office at the studio, just as he remembered. He blinked his eyes drowsily as he glanced around the room. There was no sign that he had left, and hardly any time had passed. He had only drifted off for five, maybe ten minutes at the most.

A smile cracked beneath his mustache.

“EPCOT.”

He yanked open a drawer, pulled out some paper and a pen, and immediately began to sketch out his plans for his city of the future. Beside his plans lay half a pack of cigarettes, ready for him to use at any moment.