Welcome Back, Cipher

(June 12, 2016)

4: Since You Hung Around

Gideon Gleeful had turned fourteen not long before. He and Ulva—who was a werewolf, though she had her transformations under control and, along with her mother, had been expelled from the pack—were, everyone in Gravity Falls supposed, boyfriend and girlfriend.

He liked to think so. Ulva had come into his life the previous year. In fact, an insane and completely feral werewolf had bitten Gideon, and only the intervention of Stanford Pines and Wendy Corduroy had cured him of the condition—though he still got itchy during nights of the full moon. Anyway, Ulva and her mother now lived in a cottage downtown. Her mother, who had led a normal human life before being turned, had readjusted relatively quickly, though healing from some wounds that, had she been merely human, would have been fatal had taken months.

Now she worked as an accountant for Bud Gleeful's companies—the car lot, his first love, plus a garage and an auto-parts store that he owned but did not put his name to. "What's the use of a used-car salesman owning a garage?" he'd ask. "Might give folks the false idea that his cars are not as good mechanically as they ought to be, yes! And my cars are in perfect condition when they roll off the lot!"

And then the front bumper fell off.

Ulva had spent far less time in human form than her mother. She struggled to catch up. At first, she had insisted on sleeping on the floor, curled up in a ball, and naked under a blanket. Gradually she had become accustomed to clothes—shoes were the hardest for her to tolerate, and in summer she was always in sandals, though the cold winters in Oregon had at last got her used to thick socks and ankle boots.

Language had been a problem, too. She was fluent in Wolf. She could hold long philosophical discussions with wolves and dogs, and foxes could understand her, though sometimes they made fun of her accent. Now, it's true that Wolf, though very expressive, is not a complex language. It consists of about sixty phonemes—words, in human terms—but they can be combined and recombined for an infinity of meanings.

Sixty words is low for a human vocabulary, though, not counting parts of Alabama and rural Texas. Just learning to communicate had been a hurdle, and then learning to read came next. But Ulva was just disadvantaged, not stupid. In fact, she had a brilliant mind and made astonishing progress as the months passed. Gideon was ready to enter Gravity Falls High as a freshman come fall. Ulva—well, she could read on a seventh-grade level and she could use language more than adequately (her writing was oddly stilted, as if she had never been formally introduced to contractions).

She wasn't ready for high school. However, Bud called in a favor from Mr. Northwest, who paid it off in the way he was most comfortable—with money, not with actions of personal kindness—and Ulva had a tutor who would continue to guide her. She would, however, have to spend another year in junior high.

"It just ain't fair," Gideon complained. "She'll die without me bein' around every day, every hour!"

"No, I will not," Ulva said. She was having Sunday dinner with the Gleefuls, a regular arrangement. "I will be fine as an independent person in school and we shall see each other every day, yes?"

"It ain't the same," Gideon grumbled. "Daddy, let me take a sabbatical from school and wait for Ulva to catch up."

"Now, darlin'," Bud said, "that just won't happen. I know you and Ulva have, well, a little arrangement as playmates and all, but the school system just won't let a high-school student take a whole year off."

"Dang it," Gideon complained. "What do we pay taxes for? The School Superintendent works for us!"

"You would not send me on the hunt before my fangs had grown," Ulva said, touching Gideon's arm. "I see the wisdom of the human pack. I will catch up by next year. You will see."

But later, as they went for a walk—they always held hands because Ulva found constant wonder in every little thing and wanted to dart across a busy street or, sometimes, chase a squirrel, and he had to hold her back—as they went for a walk in Circle Park, Gideon said, "There's more than one way to skin a cat."

"I chase them sometimes," Ulva said, "but I would never skin one. That is—" she made a weird warbling murmur—"what the Folk call, I don't know the human word. Cruel? Vicious?"

"Those're about the same thing, darlin'," Gideon said.

Ulva nodded. "Cruel and vicious. And also unnecessary. Because what would I do with a cat skin? And a cat without its skin would not be comfortable. And slippery to pet."

"It's a metaphor," Gideon told her.

She brightened. Her tutor had gone over that with her in English back during the school year. "Ah. A form of poetic expression that says one thing is another thing that it really is not for purposes of clarification or illustration. A lie."

"Yeah, I suppose it is a lie, kinda," Gideon said. "But that's beside the point. I just had me a category five brainstorm! You get tutored for how many hours a day?"

"Seven," Ulva said. Hours was another term she'd had difficulty with. The Folk—the wolves, that meant—did not measure time in that way, dividing the day more like time to wake in the sun, time to drink and run, time to wrestle with each other, time to hunt and kill, time to eat, time to look for a mate and then sleep. However, Ulva correlated what the Folk knew and what the humans and their clocks said, and she now understood hours. "We begin at eight and study until twelve. Then we have meat. Then from twelve-forty-five—that is right, is not it? The right way to say? From twelve-forty-five until four we study, with time to break. That is not right."

"Time for a break," Gideon corrected. "But that's not what I was aimin' to say. See, your tutorin' schedule and my high-school schedule ain't too different. Your tutor could come to the high school. Y'all could use one of the counseling rooms, or the library, and have almost the same schedule. You'd start at 7:45 and go until 3:00. Shorter lunch period, but that's OK. And maybe sometimes you could come and set in on classes. I know my daddy can arrange that."

"Then we would be in the same place!"

"Same building. And we could see each other through the day. And then after school I could walk you home."

"I would much like that!" Ulva said, kissing his cheek. "You are smart."

Blushing but smiling, he replied, "Well—I got a reason to be, sugar. It's settled. I'll talk to Daddy about it and see what we can work out. I'm pretty sure the school principal and everybody will agree. Oh, hey, look over there on the bench—Ghost Eyes! Buddy!"

Ghost Eyes, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved black pullover, was sitting at a picnic table, tossing peanuts to the birds. "Gideon!" he rumbled back, causing the flock to fly away squawking. "Good to see you, man! Miss Ulva, how are you doing?" He rose—an impressive sight, like a forty-year time-lapse of a redwood growing fifty feet in five seconds—and shook hands with Gideon. "They treating you all right?" Ghost Eyes asked Gideon.

"Fine, just working some things out. How's college?"

"Oh, summer break, man," Ghost Eyes said. "But dig it, I'm on track to get my A.B. in Management next June. Already talked to some prospective employers. I think I'm gonna be a straight solid citizen at last." He and Gideon fist-bumped.

Ulva had been tugging Gideon's sleeve urgently and tilting her head like an eager puppy, she asked, "What should we dig?" She did love digging. The Gleeful front yard was resplendent with flowers in the beds she had personally excavated.

"Just another metaphor, sugar," Gideon said. "Means 'understand.'"

"Squirrel!" Ulva yelped, jerking his hand.

"See you later, buddy!" Gideon shouted as he tried his best to match Ulva's speed.

Sunday afternoon was Planning Time. Mabel called a meeting in the Shack parlor: Dipper, Wendy, Soos, Melody, and Abuelita. Abuelita, looking tired but radiant after her trip to Mexico, sat in a reclining chair and smiled. The others waited for Mabel, who stood at an easel on which she'd mounted a three-by-three-foot tablet of newsprint. "I suppose you're wondering why I called you all here today," she said, whacking a pointer into her cupped hand. She flipped the first, blank page of the tablet, revealing a page on which she'd sketched puppies, kitties, rainbows, stars, and balloons. A word ran vertically down the center: SURPRISE.

Mabel snapped the pointer against the paper. "Can anyone tell me what this is?" Mabel asked.

"It's a pointer, dawg!" Soos said.

Mabel swiveled and pasted an "E FOR EFFORT" sticker on him. "Good observation, Soos! And what is it pointed AT?"

"The paper!" Soos said triumphantly. "I am on fire today!"

"And on the paper the word 'SURPRISE,'" Dipper said. "No, I don't want a sticker, thanks."

"Spoilsport! And what does 'surprise' stand for, can anyone tell me?"

"Una sopresa," Abuelita said. "It means, something you do not expect but makes you very happy, no?"

"Thank you for your valuable international perspective, Abuelita! Exactly right! But in this case, SURPRISE is also our mission!"

She flipped a page. Now words ran down the page, their initials spelling out SURPRISE:

"Super! Unexpected! Rejoicing! Perfect! Really! It's! Secret! Enjoyment!" Mabel took hold of the corner of the sheet, ready to flip it. "And that spells out—"

"Birthday Party," Dipper said.

Mabel laughed. "Dipper! You're always the brainy one! Tell the others how you figured it out!"

"I sneaked a peek at the next page while helping you set up the easel," Dipper said.

"Points for ingenuity!" Mabel pronounced, flipping the page to reveal the words SURPRISE=BIRTHDAY PARTY. "Our Grunkles' birthday comes up next Wednesday!"

"Ooh!" Soos said. "Because they're twins, right?"

With a dramatic swoosh of her pointer, as if she were casting a spell and earning ten points for Gryffindor, Mabel said, "Exactly! You got it, Soos!"

"Yes! Nailed it!" Soos said with an air-punch.

Mabel waved the pointer for silence. "But the key is that the party has to be super and unexpected! In other words, a surprise! The question before the group is—how do we mobilize to make that happen? I think we all remember last summer and how that birthday celebration was all pffbbtt!"

"Hey!" said Dipper, because she had been right in front of him when she blew her raspberry, "You sprayed me!"

"Walk it off, Broseph! Yes, Wendy, you have your hand up."

"Uh, I think that was 'cause we went out on the ocean to help your friend the merman find his missing wife, right? And Dipper and I, like, nearly drowned, and all that sh—stuff was still coming down on June 15th, right?"

"Right!" Mabel pinned a star sticker on Wendy's flannel shirt. "I mean, Dip and I gave them cards and presents, and we had a nice little meal with them and our Graunties, but their birthday was already over and nobody else celebrated. Not this time! Not on my watch! So—we're gonna invite lots of people and have a great time! First question—where?"

"How 'bout Ford's new house?" Wendy asked. "The upper floor's not furnished yet, but on the main level Dad and his crew moved in and set up all the kitchen appliances, and there's a great big dining room that's furnished now, and a den and living room with furniture, and it's got a great back deck and the yard's crazy spacious. Ford and Lorena aren't expecting to move in until after July 4th, so it should be easy to get them out there on Wednesday. Dad'll tell 'em, like, he wants their approval for some change in decor or some deal, and that'll get them there."

"Yeah," Dipper said. "And guests can park up in the Shack lot, so nobody will be suspicious—it's just a short walk downhill. Why don't we schedule it for 7:30, an hour after the Shack closes?"

"I like the way this is going," Mabel said. "Now, about Grunkle Stan and Sheila—"

"'Scuse me," Wendy said again. "This would be a lot easier if we let Sheila and Lorena in on it."

"Aw, no, dude," Soos said. "I think the ladies should be just as surprised as the twins."

"Soos has a point," Dipper said.

"OK, OK," Mabel said. "Who wants to surprise our Graunties as well as our Grunkles?"

Soos and Dipper raised their hands.

"Who wants to involve them in our planning?"

Melody and Abuelita did. Wendy abstained.

"It's unanimous!" Mabel said. "We involve them!"

"It's really for the best, dude," Wendy murmured to Dipper, who shrugged.

"Yeah, you can't beat a unanimous decision," Soos said. "That's nearly everybody."

"Besides," Mabel said smugly, "I've already talked this over with both of them. I just need to give them the details now!"

With the location set, Mabel next distributed a tentative guest list—all of Stan's poker buddies, and the McGuckets, of course, and lots of people from town. "That's thirty," she said. "Who did I leave out?"

"Um, how about Pacifica's mom and dad?" Dipper asked. "You've got her and Danny down, so—"

"Let's table that until I get Pacifica to see if they'd even come," Mabel said. "If she says go for it, they're in."

"Nice that you invited Lazy Susan," Wendy said.

"Yeah, I like her," Mabel agreed.

They came up with a few other names, for a total of thirty-six. Then—"Refreshments!" Mabel said. "Teek says he'll do the grilling—is the barbecue grill out back of the house ready, Wendy?"

"Oh, yeah!" Wendy said. "Dad and his crew already tested it out. It's fine, and it's big. All you need will be the charcoal and the goodies to cook."

"I will make some specialties," Abuelita said.

"Yum! Great!" Mabel said. "Now about the cake—"

"I'll bake it," Melody said. "Provided you decorate it."

Again Mabel whooshed the pointer. If she had been a Hogwarts student, she might have managed to levitate Melody. "Lady, you got yourself a deal!"

In all, the meeting lasted for two exciting but exhausting hours. "I hope," Soos said when Mabel gaveled it to a close, "the party is as much fun as the planning was, dawgs!"

Narrowing her eyes, but smiling, Mabel said, "Make it so, Mr. Soos! Make it so!"

"These," said Dipper, "are the voyages of the tourist trap Mystery Shack."

They went their separate ways after that. Mabel commandeered the table and laid out paper to sketch the cake she had in mind. Abuelita and Melody went to tend to the young Ramirezes. Soos, who'd driven to Portland and back the day before, settled in for an afternoon nap.

And Dipper and Wendy took a walk in the woods. For no particular reason, they wandered to the spot where Bill Cipher's physical body—changed to stone when he entered the Mindscape during Weirdmageddon—had crashed to earth.

"There he is," Dipper said. The one-eyed triangle with his tall hat and his outstretched hand still rested there, in a small clearing in the forest.

Wendy shaded his eyes. "Why's he so shiny?"

"He does look a little glittery," Dipper said, ducking as something whizzed by his face. "Whoa! Was that a bee?"

"Just a rain beetle," Wendy said. "They're harmless. Ugh, look, there's a dozen of 'em creeping over the statue!"

Dipper saw they were, little crawling rounded dark dots. A couple took off and a couple more landed. Dipper went in for a close look. The effigy had weathered a little, and dull green moss had crept into the crevices, but—hmm. The stone, which looked like a coarse-texture granite, had turned a faint metallic yellow in streaks. Almost as if it were turning to gold.

The universe is a hologram. Reality is an illusion. Buy—

Gold.

"Uh-oh," he said.