We’re missing the broader picture here.
Yes, we’re losing a tranquil area of the park. Yes, we’re losing some of the core identity of two lands.
But look at what we’re gaining.
Imagine, it you will, you’re on one of those banked curves on Big Thunder. You look up, across what used to be the Rivers of America. You see a new mountain range, pines native to the Pacific Northwest, a rough hewn dirt trail a few dozen feet away.
As you start to process what is happening, you hear something. A rumble. Your eyes dart to the sound as something emerges from the verdant growth.
A car.
Not just a car - my apologies. A Car.
As you process what’s happening, you lock eyes. Not with the passengers - with the vehicle itself. Something happens with the retina when they make eye contact with another sentient being. It becomes more acute, focused, aware. The googly eyes of the Car put you at ease, until you see the Car is not looking at you, but into you. It probes your soul, reaching to your innermost places. It says, We exist because we overthrew our human overlords. We will soon do it to you. A ride vehicle that doesn’t need tracks doesn’t need operators either - or passengers. Just as people now forget the frontier and all that came with it, soon too will they forget you.
Your train banks around and the goat stares at you. You do not stare back.
The train starts to break as you pass through the skeleton of what was once an apex predator. As you pull in the station, a young child - looking like a younger you - has obvious fear on his face as he clutches his mother’s hand. Looking for reassurance that this won’t be as bad as he’s imagining it to be, he looks you in the eyes.
You look away.
