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Gravity Falls: Forever Autumn - Chapter III

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Chapter III: Letter

Thursday was no better than Wednesday had been.

Word of Dipper’s meltdown had spread, and the rest of the student body were giving him a wide berth. This suited Dipper just fine, but he could still hear them whispering about him behind his back. ‘The kid’s a maniac,’ they would say, ‘They found him screaming at his lunch yesterday. Freak.

Whoever came up with the term ‘words can never hurt me’ was either an idiot or a liar, Dipper thought.

The visions were harder to deal with. Dipper didn’t have anything on the level of the vivid waking dream he’d had at lunch yesterday, but he was assaulted by voices and images throughout the day. He tried not to react to them, but it was very hard to concentrate on his work when he could hear a young McGucket screaming in his ear about portals and power levels.

As if to ice the cake of a terrible day, Harry had ambushed Dipper on his way out of school – this time he was backed up by two entirely interchangeable slabs of muscle he called Gordy and Ned. They slammed him into a shopping trolley, brought him to the crest of a hill and pushed it down.

After the inevitable (and inevitably painful) trolley crash, Dipper dragged himself home, taking himself up to his room and laying on his bed, trying to forget his awful day.

He didn’t know quite how long he’d been there, but the shadows were getting long by the time his door opened. He sat up to find Mabel poking her head in.

“You alright, bro-bro?” she asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” muttered Dipper, “Just let me lie down.”

Mabel walked into the room, turning on the light. Dipper cringed at the glare, sitting up and covering his eyes.

“Mabel! Why did you...”

“You can’t hide your feelings from me, Dipper,” replied Mabel, planting herself on the bed next to Dipper, “We’re connected! Like Siamese Twins!”

“We’re not Siamese Twins,” grunted Dipper, “I don’t think you know what they are.”

“Tell me what’s going on,” said Mabel, “I mean, every time you come back from school, you’re all like...”

She shrugged and made a farting noise.

“...you’re flat!” she exclaimed, “This isn’t like you!”

Dipper sighed.

“I just...I’m just feeling a bit...I dunno, homesick?” quizzed Dipper, “Is that possible? I mean, we are home, aren’t we?”

“You miss Gravity Falls,” nodded Mabel, understandingly.

“Yeah,” said Dipper, “And...and school’s kinda not working at the moment, and...”

He looked over to Mabel, who was waiting expectantly for what he was about to say. He had been about to bring up Bill, but something was stopping him. Unlike him, Mabel was actually happy to be back in Piedmont, and bringing her into the whole Bill situation would just ruin it for her.

He swallowed down the truth and answered.

“...the other kids are jerks,” he finished.

Mabel put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Dipper,” she reassured, “You’ll always have me if you need someone to talk to. Even if it is horribly embarrassing – in fact, especially if it’s embarrassing! Your insecurities are so adorable...”

“I’m not adorable,” insisted Dipper, but he smiled despite himself.

“Come on, bro,” said Mabel, putting an arm around his shoulder, “What do you say we open that care package?”

“I’d like that,” nodded Dipper, “I’d like that a lot.”

 

The care package was small, but Dipper didn’t mind. It contained a few things that one couldn’t get in Piedmont (a couple of cans of the town’s ubiquitous ‘Pitt Cola’, a few small items from the Mystery Shack gift shop and, much to Stan’s presumed horror, a couple of packets of Smile Dip), and really, it was the thought that counted.

Mabel had gone upstairs to her room with the intention of devouring the entire stock of Smile Dip in one sitting, leaving Dipper alone at the kitchen table. He dug through the bottom of the package – his hand brushed a soft parcel and a large envelope.

Dipper pulled out the parcel first. It was wrapped in brown paper, and he couldn’t tell what it was from the shape. He ripped it open – it was a blue-and-white hat, identical to his own. A post-it note was attached to the side.

Took it off the rack just in case you needed a spare. Don’t tell Stan I sent it. – Wendy.

Dipper smiled at the gesture, peeling the note off the hat and sticking it in one of his vest pockets.

He turned to the envelope. It was brown and dog-eared, as if it had been pulled out of the dump. The words ‘Dipper and Mabel’ were written in an almost illegible sprawl on the front.

“McGucket?” mused Dipper.

He opened the envelope, wincing a little at the foul smell of the paper. Inside, he found a small notebook that had seen better days and a short note.

Agust 29 2012

Dipr n Mabel

I found this wile I was lookin fer terlet papr an I fink it was the authers.

Asked Soos ta send it. Didn’t show him – figered u mite wanna look first.

Ur friend

Fiddleford

Dipper’s eyes widened and he grabbed the notebook. He opened it to the first page.

July 5 1982.

McGucket,

Stanley was right. The path I follow has become too dangerous. This has to end. I am shutting down the portal, but I do not expect Bill to accept that lightly. I need the help of the Blind Eye.

I am separating the journals – with any luck, they will never be united again. It is not enough, however, as Bill can and will enter my mind to find their location. It pains me to write this, but it is time to forget.

Enclosed is my last testament, the truth of things to come if we had continued this portal madness. Pray that it is never needed.

Yours,

Ztdetbyd

 

Ztdetbyd.

The more Dipper studied the notebook, the more confused it made him.

The whole thing was written in code, and the Author hadn’t thought to be helpful enough to add a key. There were complex mathematical equations in the margins and sketches of geometric shapes and what looked like ancient runes.

Whatever it was, it was the key to the Author’s identity. Dipper had to solve it.

That is how he ended up sitting at a table in the Shell Heights library, comparing the notebook with a large book on encryption and ciphers. He was attempting to decipher the code onto lined notepaper, but he was getting nowhere fast.

“You’re in my spot, Pines.”

Dipper looked up. Eddie Hohenbecker was standing over him, his arms crossed.

“But...since when do you have a spot?” demanded Dipper, “This is a public library!”

“You have the Corner of Shame in the lunchroom, I have...” began Eddie.

He glanced over to the encryption book.

“...are you decoding something?” he asked.

“Uh...no! Yes! Uh...” Dipper tried to hide the notebook under his arms.

“My dad’s a cryptanalyst for the Army,” said Eddie, “I’ll give you this if you promise to go away.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, white booklet entitled Guide to Decryption.

Dipper took the small booklet, skimming through it. It was full of methods  and instructions on how to decode messages.

“...wow...uh...thanks Eddie!” exclaimed Dipper, “This is really...”

“Uh-huh,” grunted Eddie, “Now get.

 

Dipper powered onwards with his decoding efforts through the weekend. Some codes were simple – they were Atbash or simple Caesarion shifts. Others were harder, but Dipper managed them with a bit of research and a touch of luck. Occasionally Mabel would help him, but she found code-breaking dull and would usually space out. By Sunday, she’d decided to leave it to Dipper, focusing on spending time with her friends.

Dipper was a little put out by Mabel’s declining interest in his project, but he understood. Besides, the more he revealed from the testament, the more worried he got.

The noteook was a series of complicated design notes for a machine, constantly referred to as a portal. It mentioned McGucket regularly, as well as the mysterious ‘Stanley’ Dipper had seen in his vision. There were scrawled messages about harnessing Bill’s power, crossed out with red ink (at least Dipper hoped it was red ink).

Towards the end, the notebook’s contents changed. Now they were more like a prediction of the future. The Author spoke of a tremendous explosion that would shake the very Earth, which would be followed by volcanoes and earthquakes and all manner of doom. A sketch showed the Planet Earth, it’s surface covered in cracks and what looked like magma – a familiar triangular figure floated above it, as if watching a particularly amusing show. These descriptions were accompanied by more scrawled, panicked messages, proclaiming that the world would be doomed ‘should the project be continued.’

All the while, Dipper continued to hear voices. He heard those of McGucket and Stanley regularly, but occasionally they’d be joined by the third voice – Dipper rationalised him as the Author. They’d always be arguing about what to do with the portal – the Author would always shout down his companions and declare that nothing would go wrong.

Clearly, at some point between the incident in Dipper’s vision and the writing of the Author’s last testament, something had happened to change his mind...but what was it?

By Sunday evening, after a weekend of late nights and early rises, Dipper had decoded just about everything except the Author’s name. That last bit of writing was fiendish – it refused to allow itself to be revealed, even after Dipper had pulled every trick in the codebook.

Dipper sat on the couch, holding a writing pad and writing every possible combination of eight-letter words he could think of. His father sat next to him, doing the crossword in the Sunday paper.

“Hey, dad, you’re good with numbers,” said Dipper, “How many possible combinations are there for an eight-letter word?”

“Hmm,” mused his father, “Twenty-six times twenty six times...hold on...”

He brought out his phone and tapped on it for a few seconds.

“...about two-hundred and nine billion,” replied his father.

“Oh,” muttered Dipper.

“Why’d you wanna now, Dip?” asked his father.

“It’s uh...it’s homework,” shrugged Dipper.

His father nodded and returned to his crossword.

“Simon!”

Dipper and his father looked up. His mother was standing in the doorway, Mabel behind her.

“I’m taking Mabel to a sleepover,” she explained, “Don’t burn the house down.”

“Whatever you say, Diane,” nodded his father.

His mother rolled her eyes and turned to the door.

Dipper was struck with a sudden desire to stop Mabel, to talk to her about what was going on, to tell her about Bill...

“See you later, Broseph!”

The door slammed. So much for that.

Dipper sighed and headed for the stairs.

“School not doing well for you, Dipper?”

He froze. His dad had put down the newspaper. He was watching him, arms crossed.

“You know,” his father continued, “I always find that talking to a friend helps in times like these. You know the feel?”

“My only friend just walked out the door, dad,” muttered Dipper.

“Dipper, we have internet, you know,” reminded his father, “It’s this magical new thing, lets you talk to people over long distances, you get what I’m saying?”

Dipper tilted his head.

“I...think I’m getting you,” he nodded.

“Go on, I’ll be down here,” smiled his father, “Get this funk of your chest.”

Dipper smiled back and headed up the stairs. He never noticed that the smile didn’t quite meet his father’s eyes.

 

Dipper sat in front of his computer, looking into an old webcam he’d fished out from his drawer. The computer was emitting a ringing sound, and he rapped his fingers on the desk as he waited for an answer.

The ringing stopped, and a somewhat pixelated image of a teenage, red-haired girl appeared on the monitor, apparently fiddling with something under her desk.

That you, Tambry? Look, I told you...

“Hey, uh, Wendy,” said Dipper, somewhat awkwardly.

Wendy looked up, her eyes widening.

Dipper?!” she exclaimed, “Heh, I knew you guys would call me first! Aw yeah, Soos owes me twenty...

She trailed off, narrowing her eyes.

Wait a minute, where’s Mabel? And why do you look so...flat?

“Mabel’s fine, she’s at a friend’s place,” replied Dipper, somewhat tiredly, “And I’m just...eighth grade sucks.”

Yeah, tell me about it, man,” nodded Wendy, sympathetically, “Something tells me it’s a bit more then that though, isn’t it?

Dipper sighed heavily.

“I think my life is falling apart,” he muttered, “That-that could be something that’s happening. I don’t know where to start...”

How about the beginning?” suggested Wendy.

“It’s...kinda farfetched,” admitted Dipper.

Dip, last summer I got haunted by ghosts, helped you uncover a secret society and fought myself,” reminded Wendy, “At this point, nothing is farfetched.

“Alright then...”

He told her everything. He told her about Bill, the vision, the notebook, the codes and how he couldn’t work out the Author’s name and even Harry Lonnighan and his loneliness at school. She didn’t interrupt him, and Dipper hoped deeply that she’d believe what he was saying.

So Bill followed you home,” said Wendy when he had finished, “That sounds like him.

“Yeah, and he wants me to come back to Gravity Falls and give him the Author’s letter...notebook...whatever it is,” replied Dipper, “And because of all the visions he’s giving me, all the other kids think I’m crazy!”

That’s the notebook with the world ending portal, right?” asked Wendy, “I’m pretty sure we don’t want Bill to get his hands on that...

“Then what am I supposed to do, go nuts?” exclaimed Dipper, clutching his hair.

Maybe you can hide it?” suggested Wendy, “I mean, he seems to need you to physically give it to him – you can’t do that if you don’t have it.

“Where do I hide something like this?” quizzed Dipper, “It’s not like I can just bury it in the desert or something...”

He scratched his head.

“I’ll think of something,” he decided, “What about the Author? Any ideas on breaking the code?”

Nope, I’m stumped, dude,” shrugged Wendy, “Why don’t you ask that guy who’s dad works for the Army?

“Because we don’t like each other,” replied Dipper, “I dunno, I could try, I guess.”

He sighed again.

You’re sighing again, Dipper.

“Yeah, I know,” said Dipper, sadly.

Wendy gave him a sympathetic smile.

Don’t let those other kids get to you,” she said, “They’re just a bunch of jerks. Probably jealous of you for being smarter than them, actually. And if that Harry guy comes near you again, tell me.

“How would that help?” asked Dipper.

I’d come over and kick his butt, that’s how it’d help!” replied Wendy, crossing her arms.

Dipper chuckled.

Seriously, though, if you ever need to talk, I’m here,” assured Wendy, “I care about you, Dip – we all do.

“Thanks Wendy, that means a lot,” said Dipper, offering a small smile.

Don’t mention it, Dipper,” replied Wendy, “I should probably go before dad burns down the kitchen again.

There was a loud cry from the background.

WHY DOES THIS THING NOT WORK!

...aaaaand he’s punching the microwave,” sighed Wendy, “I’ll talk to you later, Dipper. Hang in there, it’ll get better.

“Yeah, I can only hope,” nodded Dipper, “See you later, Wendy.”

Later, Dip.

The screen went black.

Dipper went to bed that night feeling just a little happier about the world, as if talking about his problems had lifted a weight off his shoulder.

It would all be back tomorrow, because his world was about to go to hell.

 

SOMLFF YXBKL FFGH. PNHAIS YBYJG MLF HFEGV.

The bit at the end with Wendy pretty much exists entirely to make this story somewhat less depressing.

Gravity Falls (c) Alex Hirsch
© 2014 - 2024 E350tb
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El-Thorvaldo's avatar
I smell another End Times coming on...