July 14th, 2018
8:30 pm
"So wait, your dad keeps all kinds of family secrets locked away in a storage room? In his house?"
Despite everything, Charlie couldn't wrap his head around what Pacifica had told him. As an archivist, he would certainly understand wanting to hang onto a century's worth of records. But then, he didn't have generations of monsters populating his family tree. It seemed reckless and stupid.
"He calls it his Hate Room," she told him as she led him upstairs. "Keeps everything horrible he and the family's ever done in there so no one can see it but him. Sometimes he'll go in there for hours and just look around and stare at everything. It's very creepy."
What kind of messed-up family is this? Charlie wondered. He could tell from the pain etched on Pacifica's face that she lived with the answer.
"Why doesn't he just destroy everything?" Charlie wondered. "If I had all this stuff that's so dangerous I'd hire people to retrieve it, I'd probably burn it rather than leave it where someone can find it. Or at least stash
"My dad has his own reasons for doing things," Pacifica muttered mysteriously. She looked around for any sign of Mabel or Wendy. "Now where could those guys have gone?"
"Well, Wendy was interviewing your father," Charlie noted. "Maybe they're in his study."
"Could be," Pacifica said, "but there's, like, no way to get in without a key. He doesn't even like me and Mom going in there. I doubt he'd leave it unlocked."
Charlie tested the doorknob and, to both of their surprise, it opened. "Huh," he uttered as they went inside.
They saw Wendy and Mabel at Preston's desk, examining a panel of buttons, completely baffled. Wendy looked ready to drive her fist through the panel, while Mabel just seemed confused. Until she saw their visitors.
"Charlie! I was wondering how your...Pacifica?" She stared for a moment, uncertain what to make of her old friend's presence, then snapped into Mabel Mode and ran over to greet her.
"Pacifica, thank goodness you're helping us! Dipper was worried that you were going to side with your dad, but I told him..."
"Okay, Mabel, I'm here!" Pacifica reassured her friend, not in the mood for one of her freak outs. "Like, of course I'm going to help you or else I'd be downstairs eating sole with those snobs. I'm not clever enough to be a spy or whatever."
"Don't sell yourself short," Mabel insisted. "You really could betray us if you wanted to!" Awkward pause. "Erm, what I meant to say was..."
"Hey Pacifica," Wendy interrupted. "I don't want to cut your reunion with Mabel short, but we need some help over here. Your dad has some kind of control panel and I'm wondering if it lets us into that room."
"Why did you sneak in here?" Pacifica asked. "You know there's a passage in the hallway, right?"
"Mabel found it, but she was too busy saving my butt to try it."
Mabel blushed. "Oh Wendy, we saved each others' butts..."
Pacifica and Charlie walked over to the control panel. There was an alpha-numeric keypad surrounded by four small buttons - one red, one blue, one green and one yellow.
"I know the red button is the room where Dad will keep...unexpected guests." Her tone suggested she'd experienced this firsthand. "Wait, you guys didn't run into any of his goons, did you?"
"Yeah, they were fine!" Mabel smiled while miming a punch, a very Mabel answer which didn't reassure Pacifica in the slightest.
"One of these has to be to the doorway," Pacifica said, trying to think and remember from her past trips into this room. "I'm just worried that one of them will, like, trip a silent alarm or call the police or something."
"Mabel, is that Pacifica?" Dipper's voice crackled in his sister's ear.
"Yes, Dipper," she said. "Don't worry, she's helping us!"
"Wait, how are you talking to Dipper?" Pacifica said, confused.
Mabel gestured to her ear. "I'm all wired up, sister! Just call me Techno Mabel!" She did a brief robot dance, to everyone's bafflement. Pacifica wasn't entirely sure what she meant, but shrugged.
"Anyway, it looks like we've another number thingy, bro-bro," Mabel said. "Do you think they'd use the same code for both doors?"
"Probably not, but I guess that increases our odds," Dipper said. "Let's see..." Mabel could hear typing in the background.
"It increases the odds to one-in-500,000," Stan growled. "I don't think these kids have some kind of time."
"Let me take a crack at it," Pacifica suggested. She entered
"We already tried your birthday and your parents' birthdays," Wendy told her. "They didn't work."
"No, my birthday is the combination for the garage door," Pacifica said. "Wait a minute..." She pictured in her mind some hoodlums sneaking in and stealing her dad's car...and deciding that he probably deserved it.
"Well, it doesn't have to be a date," Wendy said. "It could just be random numbers or something."
"Nah, my dad's mind doesn't work that way," Pacifica said. "Everything a Northwest does has to have some significance..." She thought for a moment, then the figurative light bulb came on.
"Oh God, of course," she muttered. After a moment she entered a code: 09-12-2002. Then, after another moment, she pushed the blue button and a door panel opened!
"Whoa," Mabel uttered. "Dipper, we're in."
"Good job, Pacifica," Wendy said.
"What was the number, anyway?" Charlie wondered.
"September 12th, 2002," she bitterly explained. "The day my grandfather Auldman died and my father took over his company. He always told me that was the happiest day of his life."
"Yeesh," Wendy winced.
The foursome walked inside the panel to a musty, darkened room. Mabel and Charlie each coughed at the dust their presence stirred up. Unfortunately, it was too dark to see, even with the light creeping in from Preston's study.
"Mabel, you didn't bring a headlamp or one of those light-up sweaters, did you?" Charlie asked.
"Nope," she said, "but I do have this!" She held down the jewel on her ring and it shot a bright blue beam of light into the room.
"Man, Ford really is crazy prepared," Wendy marveled.
The investigators walked through the storage room, which seemed much longer and wider than it appeared from the narrow entry ways. There were several stacks of wooden crates, some cardboard boxes, many pried open with weird historical artifacts hanging out - everything from old dolls and playsets to books and paintings.
"Jeez, how much crap is there?" Wendy said, thinking that she heard rats or something skittering around the rafters overhead.
"One hundred fifty four years of family secrets," Pacifica said ruefully. "Anything you want to know about the Northwest family."
"Do you know if he organizes it in any way?" Charlie asked. "By topic, or...?"
"I think just in the order he came into possession of everything," Pacifica said, bumping into an antique rocking chair. "Here's the paintings I showed Dipper," she said, pointing two paintings of Preston Northwest acting like a crook and double-crossing Indians.
"Dipper, I'm going to send you a video as we go through here," Mabel said. "See if you can see it through the light." She flicked the same button on her ring and started broadcasting.
"Those pictures look familiar," Dipper said.
"That's what Pacifica just said," Mabel agreed.
"But there's more," Pacifica said, reaching into a crate and pulling out an impossibly large book. It was entitled The Secret History of the Northwests, a family confession compiled by Auldman Northwest.
"Holy Moses!" Mabel gasped.
"Wow!" Wendy exclaimed. Charlie just stared in awe.
"I've never really read it," Pacifica admitted, "just looked at the Table of Contents and junk."
"Dip, are you getting this?" Mabel said.
"Yeah! Wow, that's incredible! Do you think there's anyway you can bring it outside?"
"I don't know, it would be a pretty big risk," Mabel said. "Does anybody have their phone?"
Amazingly, everyone shrugged. Though it made sense: who brought a cellphone to a snazzy party?
"Well, try and take videos or photographs as best you can, Mabel," Dipper instructed.
"Yeah, easy for you to say," Mabel complained. "This thing's like 800 pages long."
Pacifica strained under the weight of the book; Charlie chivalrously offered to help, only to yowl as his arms gave out under its weight. Wendy rolled her eyes and grabbed the book herself, carrying it over to a nearby table.
"This book isn't in the greatest of shape," Charlie warned. "Look how brittle and dark the pages are. We have to be careful as possible when reading it or it might fall to pieces."
"Sorry I didn't bring my rubber gloves," Wendy murmured. Pacifica, though, put on some gloves and opened the cover.
"Look here," Charlie pointed out. "There's an appendix listed: Pertinent documents and where to find them. That's how they knew where to find all the microfilms and books and so forth to steal them."
"And they're probably somewhere in this attic," Wendy chimed in.
He, Mabel and Wendy seemed struck with both awe and excitement, a month's long search. Only Pacifica seemed subdued, fearing what she'd find."
"Okay Dip," Mabel said. "I'll try and record this for you as we read. Ready?"
"More than ready, sis!" he affirmed. "Man, this is everything we've been searching for!"
"Well," Pacifica said, voice heavy with dread as she turned to the Introduction page. "Here we go..."
Introduction
By Ambrose Stevenson, Editor ("Ha!" Charlie interjected upon spotting the name.)
This book offers a thorough documentation of the Northwest Family's true history. It is the result of 30 years of painstaking research and compilation, by the author, myself and other interested family members. Mr. Northwest felt it was important that, despite (perhaps because of) the family's public standing, we document everything, good and bad, warts and all, that Nathaniel Northwest, his descendants and heirs have done from 1863 until the present time.
Hopefully, the contents of this book will be useful to discerning historians and Northwest family members alike. There are actions which may seem monstrous on their own accord, but were perfectly justified in the context of their times and place. Until and unless we are able to make such a context palatable to the public, Mr. Northwest. He hopes that someday, his son or grandson will be able to tell the truth about the family history. Until then, consider this book our secret.
Ambrose E. Stevenson
Fall 1998
"Wow!" Mabel said, for once at a loss for words.
"Man, I almost feel like taking back my insults," Charlie said, but his smirk indicated not really.
Pacifica flipped back to a full table of contents. "Part I: Early Years, 1863-1892."
"You guys already know about Nathaniel Northwest and pioneer times, right?" she asked, wanting to hurry through this as quickly as possible. Everyone nodded in affirmation. She leafed ahead to "Part II: The Lords of Gravity Falls, 1892-1919." She let out a deep breath, looking for subheadings, and leafed ahead to the relevant section:
Part II, Chapter X. Gravity Falls at War, 1917-19
Like all of the United States, Gravity Falls was turned upside down by the First World War. Though the town's population numbered only about 1,100 souls, some 107 men enlisted in the military upon the outbreak of war. Most joined the Army, joining up with the 41st Infantry Division. Though much of the division remained in reserve throughout the war, several battalions were deployed to reinforce other units weakened in action. Among them was Richard Ephraim Cordary, a local lumberman who received a Distinguished Service Cross for gallant actions in the Second Battle of the Marne, June 1918.
("Cordary?" Wendy said out loud. "Seriously, Northwest!?")
This story, while exciting in its own right, is better-told at length elsewhere, since it only peripherally involves the Northwest Family. The family's son, Thaddeus Northwest, received a draft exempt through Dylan's maneuvering and apprenticed with him at the Northwest Lumber Company throughout the war. The lumber camps were depleted by many employees going off to war, requiring soldiers and National Guardsmen to take their place cutting and hauling wood. Through contracts with the State and Federal government, these years were prosperous for the Northwests...
(The next several pages detailed these contracts, Thad's involvement with the APL and related information which told our intrepid researchers things they either already knew or didn't consider relevant.)
Upon return from the war, many lumbermen, including the aforementioned Rick Cordary, returned to work for the Northwests. Unfortunately, due to discontent stoked by the unfortunate death of two workers in the lumber camps during the war (one, it is believed, murdered due to his efforts to begin a union), their reentry into civilian life wasn't a smooth one. These men butted heads with management, and became inflamed with the radical virus which infected so many workers in the postwar era.
Thaddeus Northwest began playing a more active role in the company's operations, convincing the Lumber Company's Board of Directors to release hired Pinkertons and use local guards in an effort to head off tensions. This only seemed to exacerbate them. Several confrontations between Cordary and his workers led to the Northwests declaring a lockout, which in turn triggered a strike.
(The next few pages detailed the struggles of Rick, Becky, Thad and all their allies which have been recounted in our narrative proper, though many of the details were news to Dipper, Mabel, Wendy and Charlie.)
Unfortunately, Thaddeus Northwest feared the spread of Bolshevism and felt that his father, and the state and union officials would be unable to contain it. Thus he embarked upon a rash action, using an agent provocateur named Lars Lundquist to stir up agitation among the lumbermen under the name "Christensen." [a footnote mentioned an employment contract for "Lundquist, Lars Sven. Private detective." filed somewhere in the family's corporate archives.] He already played a major role in triggering the so-called "Battle of Gravity Falls" by shooting at Oswald Sprott. Now, Thaddeus urged him to engage in drastic action to affect his desired crackdown.
On April 1st, Lundquist threw a stick of dynamite rigged with an explosive device through the window of the Northwest home. The explosion killed a mediator from the Governor's office and a union negotiator; Dylan Northwest was slightly injured, but survived. Thaddeus blamed the explosion on the striking lumbermen and organized a posse to exact vengeance. None stopped to question the incident's specifics, as the cold logic of crushing Communism provided its own rationale.
(Thus followed grimly detailed, almost laudatory descriptions of the assault on the lumbermen's camp, the deaths of Rick and Thad. Becky's rape by Thad was either unknown to the authors, or considered too unspeakable to print.)
Once the strike ended, the town made a collective pact to ignore the unpleasantness and deaths caused by the unrest. It would not due to paint a small, close-knit town like Gravity Falls as fratricidal, nor as "Red-mad," especially after the Red Scare of 1919 receded and Americans discovered that Communism had ceased to be the immediate threat everyone feared.
Dylan Northwest decided that his first course of action was to strike Thaddeus Northwest from the historical record. This required an act of collective amnesia nearly unprecedented, affected by bribes and coercion of the press and townspeople. More pertinent to this story, it also presented a problem for the family line. Dylan's wife was several years deceased, he had no further heirs, and no close nephews or even nieces to whom he could bequeath the company.
A solution, suggested by one of Dylan's assistants, was found. Rebecca Mercer, the fiance of Thaddeus, was discovered to be pregnant. While there were whispers around the town about the child's parentage (she was known to have courted Rick Cordary before the war), Dylan refused to entertain any doubt that it was his grandson. Thus, he arranged with Miss Mercer to adopt her child and raise it as his own, in exchange for money to assist her business. With marked reluctance, Miss Mercer agreed to the arrangement, and her child, born on January 1st, 1920, became George Richard Nathaniel Northwest.
Thus, exeunt Thaddeus Northwest, whose rash actions and precipitant violence alienated his father and townspeople, from the historical record. Dylan replaced him with a "son" much younger and much more to his liking, even if he could never be sure about his lineage...
By the end of this passage, Wendy's jaw dropped in astonishment. Mabel and Charlie just stared incredulously. Pacifica seemed on the verge of tears.
"Holy crap," Wendy muttered. "Man, I need to sit down or something."
"So, the Northwest family just managed to erase a family member from their line?" Charlie wondered. "That's...wow."
"Think of how rotten he must have been to just eliminate him from history," Mabel said.
Ford's voice pierced through her thoughts. "I've heard of things like this happening in ancient times and medieval Europe, but this is practically unprecedented in modern times. A whole town deciding to forget an entire violent incident en masse? That's astonishing."
"Yeah, something like that's never happened to Gravity Falls," Stan reminded him.
"Mabel, you need to find a way to carry that book out," Dipper urged her. "We have the pictures, but they could pretend, I dunno, we photoshopped it or something to smear them. For it to be any good..."
"But how?" Mabel wondered. "We're going to need like a truck to carry it out of here!"
"I don't know, we'll figure out something," Dipper said, growing flustered. "Okay, okay..."
"Guys, I think you're burying the lede here," Wendy said. "The part about Rick?"
"I knew your ancestor wasn't a terrorist!" Mabel exulted. "Even if he would have made an awesome one!"
"Phrasing," Charlie muttered.
"Oh, sorry."
"No, you guys..." Wendy said, going back over to the book and reading and re-reading the passage again. "I think it's implying that...the Northwests are descended from my family."
All three of them gasped. Only Pacifica didn't join them, having skulked over to a corner of the room, her head down and her arms crossed.
After a moment's hesitation, Mabel started to go over to comfort her. But Wendy gently stopped her, deciding she was the one who needed to say something.
"Hey," Wendy said, not sure what to say. "If it helps, this whole thing's been pretty crazy to me, too. I mean, I went through the whole thing of thinking my ancestor blew people up when..." Maybe that was the wrong thing to say: it wouldn't comfort Pacifica to remind her, but one of your family did it instead. "Anyway, it all happened a long time ago. Shit happened, man. It was a rough time."
"Every time I think I've found the absolute most rotten thing about my family..." Pacifica said. "I told myself I wouldn't pry any more! I've known about this room and everything my father's had in it since I was ten. And now, to think we aren't even Northwests..."
She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears, into Wendy's face. She realized, belatedly, what she was about to say...
"Yeah, you might be descended from some hick lumberjacks," Wendy said, nodding. "Which, I don't know, I can see how that might seem like a bad thing if you've always thought your family was to the manor born. But think of it this way. Now you can tell your ancestor was a total badass, a tough guy who got his hands dirty and worked for a living, a war hero who took no shit from anyone, a dude who went home and kept fighting for what he believed in even though it killed him. Damn it, I'm proud of him, and I'm only his great-great-niece.
"Personally, I would be honored to descended from someone as cool as that."
"Well, I didn't think about it that way," Pacifica admitted, forcing a rueful smile. "Maybe...if the world's worst chain can be broken once, it can be broken again."
"Dude, I don't know you all that well, but from the few times we've talked I know you're nothing like your dad," Wendy said. "Somehow he got all the bad parts of the Northwest family without being a Northwest. Nature vs. nurture or whatever."
"I guess what you're saying is, be more of a Corduroy?" Pacifica asked.
Wendy laughed. "No, just be you, dude! It works for me, it works for Dipper and Mabel and it even works for Charlie over there. The you I see isn't some stuck up rich girl, it's someone who decided her friends and some unpleasant truths were more important than your dad's reputation." She shrugged. "I dunno, that seems like pretty Corduroy-like behavior to me."
Pacifica thought about this, then nodded at the redhead and patted her on the back. Then she walked back over to the everyone else, who were all still
"All right everyone, chop chop!" she said, clapping her hands. "Our work here isn't done. Now, I'm no historian, but I'm literate enough to know what a footnote is. That whole chapter spells out everything: employment contracts, newspaper articles, census records, letters, what have you. We've got a whole room full of stuff to look through. Let's get started!"
And so, over the next few minutes, they sorted through crates and boxes and file folders looking for the pertinent documents. They found Lars Lundquist's contract, records of wire transfers to other agitators, letters written from Thad to different board members spelling out his plans...Charlie seemed practically rhapsodic as he examined them, thinking dreamily about how they'd fit into a nice fat file folder back at the Museum of History.
Within about fifteen minutes, Mabel and Charlie and Wendy's arms were practically bulging with correspondence. Mabel photographed as much of it as she could, until Ford realized that the battery on her ring was starting to run out.
"Guess we're going to have to carry all this out of here," Wendy said, struggling to keep her grip on everything.
"How?" Charlie asked. "Be awful hard to smuggle everything."
"Should have made a hoop skirt..." Mabel groaned.
"Guys," Pacifica said impatiently, pointing at an unfolded box.
"All right," Charlie said, moving over. "Hurry up and put it together."
This request confused Pacifica. "Excuse me? How do I do that?"
"Ugh, seriously?" Wendy asked. "You're gonna be like that after that moment we just had?"
"Well, you said to be myself," Pacifica said helplessly.
Wendy groaned again. She dumped her load of papers in Pacifica's arms, then bent down and folded the box into a cube in a few quick motions.
"Still heavy," Wendy said, closing it tight. "But doable. How can we sneak this out the front door without being seen?"
Just then the light on Mabel's ring flickered and died, plunging everyone into darkness.
"Oh, poop!" Mabel shouted.
"Great, now we have to solve this problem first," Charlie muttered.
After a moment, someone struck a match and a dim orange flame lit the room.
"Good thinking, Wendy!" Mabel cheered. "Who comes prepared for everything? This girl!"
"Uhh, Mabes? It's not me."
They all turned and saw, to their horror, the Bald Man standing a few feet away with a match in one hand and a pistol in the other.
Frozen in terror, Mabel managed to tap out the "S" signal into her receiver before turning off her set. She prayed that Dipper understood it.
