sea of redlights
Dipper uses his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he finishes tying down the luggage on top of the RV. It's too early to tell if evening will bring some relief from the glaring heat of the day; the bottom edge of the sun has only just kissed the horizon, and the high temperature of the afternoon lingers. The heat won't matter tonight, though. He'll be spending the evening inside the RV as it speeds back to the valley.
Most of the afternoon was spent doing some last-minute shopping downtown, hitting up various stores and eating out again. Now it's time to pack up; Dipper is aided on the RVs roof by Wendy as Grunkle Stan and Ford make sure everything is accounted for. Pacifica sits on her suitcase nearby, not even attempting to look busy. Everyone is giving Melody and Soos some space to say their goodbyes, though that farewell is temporary. On the opposite side of the RV, Mabel and Brendan are undergoing a parting that is far more subject to the vagaries of the future.
The two are a bit too far away for Dipper to listen in, which is fine. He doesn't really have a desire to eavesdrop on what might be his sister's last meaningful moment with her new crush. Not that he knows that will be the case, but last summer he became used to Mabel's crushes coming and going—and often causing considerable collateral damage. Brendan seems like a better choice on her part than usual if only because he's been harmless.
Wendy finishes tying a knot and glances towards Mabel and Brendan. "You think they'll make it work?" she says.
"No idea. Mabel's never had a long-distance relationship before, but I guess she's never had a relationship long enough to get there." Dipper shrugs. "She didn't date at all before last summer when she went boy crazy, so your guess is as good as mine."
"Maybe they'll stick it out," Wendy says optimistically. "They seem good together. Plus, Mabel's not trying to 'matchmake' everyone under the sun."
"There's no way that's going to last," Dipper warns. "She's going to want to double date, so expect her to go after you once she gets tired of making me and Pacifica go out."
"Yeah, she'll really have to 'make' Pacifica go out to a nice restaurant," Wendy says with a roll of her eyes.
Dipper doesn't have a direct comeback for that, because Wendy is right. Pacifica is going to be a fully willing participant in whatever dating nonsense Mabel comes up with. "Hey, you're next," he retorts.
"Nah, I've been taking a break from relationships. I haven't dated anyone since last summer," Wendy says. "Well, except Carson, but that was only for a couple weeks. Oh, and Justin Whitley. And Russ Green. And that dude at that truck stop. And Orson, I guess, but we only made out once at a lame party, so I don't count him."
"You're doomed," Dipper predicts.
"Whatever. Mabel can be reasonable," Wendy says, though it sounds more like she's trying to convince herself.
Dipper finishes tying the ropes and gives them a few experimental tugs. Deeming them safe enough, he climbs down from the roof and pokes his head into the trailer. It looks like Great-Uncle Ford has also finished with his preparations, all the equipment held down by ratchet straps and a generous helping of duct tape. He's making notations on a graph; nearby, an old printer made of yellowed plastic spits out pages of paper with perforated side strips. The long sheaf jolts its way down from the shelf to the floor, folding itself into a surprisingly neat stack.
"Need a hand?" Dipper says loudly in order to be heard over the screeching of the ancient printer.
"I'm just about finished," Ford reports. "Once we return, we can begin parsing our findings. The data is still raw, but the sheer amount is promising! Tell Stanley we can depart on schedule. Oh, and let him know he's parked in front of a hydrant."
Dipper heads for the RV, where he finds Grunkle Stan already behind the wheel, adjusting the seat and mirrors. "We're just about set, Grunkle Stan," Dipper informs him.
"About time," Stan grumbles. "Get everyone in here so we can go already."
"Also, you're parked in front of a hydrant," Dipper says.
"I said hurry, didn't I?"
Wendy drops from the roof and ambles up the stairs into the RV; Soos follows a minute later, sending one last wave Melody's way. Dipper waves to her as well, knowing he'll be seeing her back in the valley before long. He hops up the steps and settles in at the table across from Wendy. He's not looking forward to the drive, but he's ready to go back to Gravity Falls. Mabel comes in a few minutes later. She doesn't look very cheerful, though at least her eyes are dry. She heads for the seat in back and Pacifica follows, probably for support. Mabel got over her other breakups pretty quickly; however, this time Dipper isn't sure it's actually a breakup.
"Everybody better be in here," Grunkle Stan yells as he puts the RV in gear.
They cruise through the dense heart of the city and cross the bridge again, the water far below flashing as sunlight sparkles in the ripples. Soon enough the river transitions once again into strip malls and fast food restaurants, subdivisions scrolling past. They leave the city behind and rumble onward beneath the vast Oregon sky to the steady sound of Highway 26 speeding back beneath their tires. Dipper has spent enough nights away from a familiar bed to feel slightly fatigued despite the time of day; he rests his head against the window and lets his brain process recent events until the miles lull him into a nap.
It's the lack of sound that pulls him from his half-asleep state. He opens his eyes to find the interior of the RV in darkness. Behind them, the weak illumination of the sun is beneath the horizon, huddled below a dark violet shroud. Through the windshield he can see an apparently endless line of cars, their rear lights glowing red as they snake away into the night, some strange fluorescent algae marching through a silent sea.
"Where are we?" he asks Wendy.
Wendy is crunching through a box of malted milk balls with the steady determination of the terminally bored. "You've been out a couple hours, but we didn't make it far. There's an accident up ahead or something."
Dipper stands and moves to the other window; there's an exit marked by a green sign: 212 to Boring. If he remembers the map correctly then Wendy is right, they haven't gone far at all.
Grunkle Stan is hunched over the wheel, his fingers digging into it. "Somebody better be dead up there, 'cause that's the only excuse I'll accept!"
Soos chuckles in the passenger seat. "That's super dark, Mr. Pines."
Wendy drops another piece of candy into her mouth and rolls it around her cheeks before slowly swallowing. "Want one?" she asks, holding the box out to Dipper. "They don't taste like anything anymore."
Dipper returns to the table and helps himself to a couple. The long line of crimson lights shifts forward a few feet, a tantalizing but ultimately negligible sign of progress. Dipper glances towards the rear of the vehicle, but the curtain and the shadows hide Mabel and Pacifica. He assumes they're probably sleeping.
It's going to be a long trip home. Impatience wells in him, a need to sleep in his own bed and get out of this RV. But there's nothing to be done. He's trapped, just one more pair of red lights in a narrow cluster, as if this sea of stoplights is trying to tell him something.
Wendy closes the box and tosses it across the RV into the sink. "I gotta stop," she says. "Dude, talk to me. My phone is dead and I'm going stir crazy."
In the interest of killing time, Dipper brings up something that occurred to him earlier. "Hey, you weren't surprised about my real name. Mason, I mean."
"Soos told me like a million years ago."
"Soos? How'd he know?"
"Pretty sure he found out when he was looking up how to get to your place for our Epic Rescue Mission. The internet knows all, mang. Don't get salty with him—we were in the truck for a whole hour before he told me," Wendy says with a snicker.
"He didn't find out the first time?"
"What? Oh, right, that time he ditched me and went to see you guys," Wendy says, clearly still a bit salty herself. "I don't know, maybe. He's Soos, man, he probably forgot."
Dipper grimaces. "Don't use it, okay? I just want to be Dipper."
"Yeah, dude," Wendy says easily. "Did you tell Pacifica?"
"She dug around in my school stuff so she could compare our grades," Dipper mutters.
"That is the most Pacifica thing I've ever heard," Wendy says with a grin.
Another slight shift in traffic, another long rolling stop. Dipper can hear Grunkle Stan's foot beating a frustrated cadence against the floor.
"I've been thinking about what Gideon said," Dipper tells Wendy.
Wendy perks up, sitting straight in her seat. "Yeah?'
"Yeah," Dipper says, staring pensively through the glass. Cars flit by in the oncoming lane, their headlights briefly sliding across the window like a xerox, then morphing into fading red. "He wasn't right about everything. But… I think he was kind of right about at least one thing."
Wendy just listens, her green eyes reflecting the trailing lights from outside.
"He's wrong about the magic. Sort of. I guess it's not really up to me, or even Great-Uncle Ford, but it's not the same as buying a car. I mean, you have to get a license and be old enough to use a motor vehicle. Maybe there should be a license for magic."
"Okay. How would that work?"
"I don't know," Dipper sighs. "That's the thing. Gideon's not doing anything legally wrong. Just… kind of irresponsible. And it's not like it's going to work for ninety-nine percent of people. Not outside of Gravity Falls, anyway. It's like he's selling lottery tickets, except you can win powers that might be dangerous. And, honestly, I'm not sure what to do about that. I'm not even sure how wrong it is."
"I mean, it's at least moderately shady," Wendy says. "Though, to be fair, that's an improvement for Gideon."
"That's the thing. And maybe I could have told him that, but… he was right about us."
Wendy shrugs uncomfortably. "I guess."
"No, he was." Dipper sighs again. "We went in there looking for a fight. We were ready to beat him up over something we didn't even understand, and… Well, I was. It was my plan."
"Nah, man. I was right there with you."
"I didn't even try to get him to see reason. I just walked into his office and treated him like it was still last summer, like he was working for Bill or just being evil and I was going to kick his butt if I had to. I could have explained why he shouldn't be handing out magic. I could have just talked to him."
"He wouldn't have listened," Wendy scoffs.
"Maybe, but it's not like we can know that." Dipper shakes his head. "All that talk about how we couldn't get out of trouble like we can in the valley and I still treated it just like Gravity Falls. I wanted to fight him."
Wendy shifts slightly, looking reluctantly guilty. "I guess we did kind of bust in and threaten the dude," she admits.
"Like it's what we were supposed to do. Like… the magic belongs to me." Dipper looks down his hands. "Was he right about that, too? Is that what it was all about? Do Great-Uncle Ford and I really think we own this stuff, that the magic is ours?" He worries that the thought is so difficult because it's true.
"No way," Wendy denies. "You guys are just trying to keep it safe and junk, getting your science on."
"Maybe," Dipper says, though he is grateful for her support.
Wendy sits in grumpy silence for a moment, arms crossed. "…Alright, we could have been way cooler about it," she grudgingly concedes. "Doesn't mean he should be passing out magic to every Greg around."
"Pretty sure I blew any chance to talk him out of it," Dipper says glumly.
"Just don't forget what a jag he is," Wendy says.
Dipper doesn't have a good answer to this problem. Crashing Gideon's workplace and demanding an end to a product line hadn't worked, and it seems so obviously dumb and heavy handed and… well, territorial in retrospect. Now Gideon is (justifiably) angry. Dipper doesn't have a backup plan. Maybe Great-Uncle Ford will. Maybe Dipper should have brought Ford in on the plan in the first place instead of taking it upon himself to launch a frontal attack on someone he must admit he doesn't understand that well anymore. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Doesn't matter now. It's back to the valley, and away from the city. Away from the normal world; away from what's commonly accepted as reality.
Of course, Gideon is selling magic lessons in the middle of that reality. Weirdness persists, even among the glass and steel towers of Portland. The world is a far stranger and more malleable place than it appears.
The RV is finally moving again, albeit at a leisurely pace. The steady stream of cursing emerging from Grunkle Stan loses momentum as the RV gains it. The river of red begins to draw itself thin, spreading apart at its end until the separation reaches them and they are freed, bursting through the luminary wall of blue-and-red where cars sit at the side of the road, men with flashlights appearing only in freezeframe.
Their fellow travelers grow sparser as the RV pushes towards the deeper woods. Dipper isn't sure how much longer the trip will be at this point, and he doesn't want to know. Better to ignore the clock and embrace the drowsy silence, seeking sleep above the rhythm of the wheel well.
Sea of Redlights by The Shyness Clinic (Espo, 1998)