A sigh.
John wistfully went over to the stack of papers which contained potential buyers for the plot of land. Fifty—the number of failed rejections and deals he has been through.
However, as he glanced at the large wooden cabin being built above the small tent he was in, he was relieved. It was the first plot of land he has sold as an agent, the first plot of land sold in twenty years in that town.
After sorting that out, he put that stack in a sack, and left it outside. Hoping that someone would pick it up and throw it away, or use it as fuel for some camp fire. Those were deals that have been rejected, and it was time that he has to deal with those memories of those negotiations.
He looked at an artfully designed sketch of the house that was to be built, standing at an enclosure with a group of large Douglas Firs at the background. It was beautiful.
o
A knock, at one of the wooden posts.
"Who's it? "He said. "Not the architect."
The clothed door of the tent opened. It was an older, middle aged man, with short, black hair, styled to face upwards. Wearing his patterned polo of small blue squares with white ones, it is the familiar…
"Dr. Walters, Mr. what are you doing here?"
"I have to see the architect. Is he still at the site?"
"I think Mr. Dan said that he left hours ago to the city."
"You mean Portland?"
"Yes, that city."
The doctor noticed the large, framed sketch of the house behind him, "That painting behind you, was that an early house warming gift?"
"Mr. Dan said that I should give it to the Mr. Pines once he starts living here. It would fit with his collection."
The doctor agreed. That black-and-white sketch of a tall log cabin, made it look huge with a wide roof that goes down from the top floor to the last floor above the ground floor, behind a forest background makes it an ideal display."
"Will the client like it?" he asked.
"I think it fits," Dr. Walters said. "Wait here,"
He then went out. John quickly followed after him telling that…
o
"Doctor, doctor, the architect said that—"
"What did the architect say?" said another voice. He turned to the younger person whom the doctor was talking to.
"Well," he said something else different, "He said that he wanted this house to be a gift, to this forest, to this town, to this state, and especially to you. I hope you would love living here for times to come, end quote. That was from a letter he left," although there was none, "before he left hours ago.
"I thought there was some problems—"
"Mr. Dan sorts it out, he has standards for the wood, the tools, and his fellow construction folk.
"So, Mr. Pines, what are you doing here? And that large backpack is quite for a college graduate…"
"Masters, actually."
"I think we can sort that out," said the doctor. "Were actually going to hike to that canyon," he pointed to huge, wide tall column of stone from afar.
"You mean the Bar of Soap?"
"That's called a bar of soap?" Mr. Pines asked.
"People in this part of this country call things with weird names, like how these tall trees are called, overgrown moss on a Pine stick."
Dr. Walters had a giggle on that name. "I think you only call those things like that, or you read from a parody of a famous travel book that existed forty years ago."
John tried to remember where he had that picked up, "I think it was from there, or somewhere else. I think I forgot about it where. Sorry. Mon mavuais.
"Anyway, we have to go now," said Walters, "Those Eagles were going to take pictures with won't be patient waiting." The two set off, walking to the forest, to hike to the top the canyon ahead.
o
Meanwhile, a large motorcade of trucks and jeeps went into the site, guarding a fancy limousine in the middle. It stopped at the middle of the enclosure, then men emerged from the jeeps and began to surround the fancy vehicle. The driver, then slowly walked to the passenger door, slowly opening it, while people grab the equipment from the trucks.
A man, who wore black-colored clothes stepped out of the vehicle. Construction activity stopped. The world seemed to have halted around.
"What are you all doing," he said to them all. "Continue working!"
Construction activities resumed. More workers participate in the construction of the house, with new materials coming in from the trucks.
"Alors monsieur Dillon, comment ça s'est passé?" the man approached John with a more casual tone, "La maison semble bon, je pense, ce qui convient à son goût."
John turned the man, "Mr. Northwest, boss, sir, I thought you were somewhere,"
It was his employer, Mr. Northwest, coming from an influential family of the west coast, and also the President and Chief Executive Officer of the new real estate company he started.
"Well, John, agent, friend, manager, I'm not here to look at that house being built. I was here to tell you just in case I failed doing the thing I'm going to do today."
"What is it?"
He opened the compartment at the back, and presented some of the most advanced hunting equipment of its time.
"What are you going to hunt this time?" Asked John, displeased by this.
"Mr. Dillon, unlike other rich men who hunt unnecessary majestic creatures to boast about their skills and expand their ego, I hunt for a public urgency.
"And that is…"
He whispered the answer to his ear… "Rouge gnomes."
o
"Rouge Gnomes?" John couldn't believe it. He had heard and seen the sentient, alive, and similarly human Gnomes, but he believes that these rouge ones are those that are worse than he met.
They had to move farther from the site, so that no one else may hear Mr. Northwest discuss this sensitive topic.
"I couldn't believe it too. Some of my friends from deep parts of the forest seem to agree, that these insurgents came to exists. I thought gnomes are not affected by the large political conflict that is happening in this world right now.
"The Reds from the far Northeast, an ocean away from the east coast have infiltrated the minds of these young Gnomes, probably from some secret migrants from the East Germany, they seem to be radicalized, and now, it seems that they are on the move to wreak havoc on our peaceful community.
"I too am worried…that this would be bad for my business and theirs too. I have to deal with this. I shall bring the warning to these rouges, and they will be dealt with."
"Sir?" asked John, "What are you going to do with them after you gave them the warning?"
"Well, after I gave them the Warning, I have my ultra - powerful camera lens to take pictures of these Gnomes and sell it to the highest bidder, to whoever wanted this information. The FBI, CIA, MI6, Wall Street, anyone interested.
Mr. Northwest closed the compartment and went back inside his car. He opened the window in his door. "Mr. Jean (John) Dillon, I wanted to tell you this, because if I failed, I wanted you to protect the children. They will be most vulnerable to this like the generation before them."
John nodded.
"And also tell Dr. Walters, if they come here, about what we talked about. He must know, since they could target this place anytime," with that, he closed the window. The car then went to the nearby dirt road.
o
It was not a good noontime for John. The lunch he ate made his stomach upset so he went to the toilets a couple of times. He wanted to take a hike to freshen things up.
A long distance he did pace on the forest, probably a mile or so. He had to turn back on his tracks since the terrain and the vegetation are getting more challenging.
On the way back, he saw a column of smoke emanating one of the large clump of trees. Another forest fire, he thought, and he ran to the source.
There was a small miniature camp with a fire in the middle. Three tents surround the fire, while a clump of wet boxes, radio equipment and burnt torches surround the site. No other creature can build this site with such complexity like the gnomes. With its small size, it must be them.
"Hey, we need to hurry up the packages, the FBI may track us down!" said a voice from afar. John turned to see an oncoming group of gnomes hauling away packages from a nearby stream. These large wooden creates, in the perspective, made some struggle with carrying the boxes.
John hid at a bush to see what was going on.
"Whew," said that same gnome earlier, "We had a close call with nature, comrades, brothers, be careful with those packages, our food and necessary supplies for the month are there."
After putting the crates near a tent, this gnome invited the rest of the group to come near the fire. There were twenty of them.
"Comrades, we have reached the last river before the valley," said the gnome. He was their leader. "As your leader, I would be proud of all of you, for giving justice against the oppressors of our proletariat. Those poor fellow farmers shall now be in peace from their masters. Those elitist gnomes, had the taste of the oncoming revolution before their eyes!"
The rest screamed a mighty Hurrah!
"Now it is time to attack the Big one. The Northwest Family, headed by their patriarch, Carlton. He appears to have enslaved his town by monopolizing the only viable industry, the largest forestry industry in this Country, his town has been mired in poverty and his rule resembles a form of military dictatorship, since the new, larger military base nearby has been used. His brother, Joseph has become the Governor of the state, who knows what plans is he up to. All opposition against him has been silenced, and some say he has been enslaving a thousand gnomes in his helm, with terrible working conditions.
"For tonight, we shall unleash the fury of the proletariat, against the beast of the C. The valley of Gravity Falls shall be liberated!"
Another great hurrah came from the group.
"Come, let us have lunch everybody. Open the crates!"
The crates were opened, packed food and a diverse set of fruits coming from different parts of the world, were in store for them.
While they were having a great lunch. John dismissed the fact that they were going to "unleash the fury of the proletariat" against his boss. Many have tried, but none have succeeded, he thought. He snickered at what could be their plans to "unleash the fury"
This was a waste of time for him. They will lose. He slowly moved away from the bush…
o
"And where do you think you're going Monsieur, Dillon, you counter revolutionary espionage?" A gnome, holding a large, large, pointy fork was pointed behind him.
He was surrounded by more gnomes.
"Men, bring him to the commander, he will be delighted by this."
He had to follow, since trying to escape will spoil his boss' chances in making the "Warning"
"Ah, Bonjour, fillon, Dillion," said the commander, or their leader, in a false French accent, "Silvous plait sitté on the groundé . Letté me assité you in youre staye in thisé campé ofé ours."
"How terrible your French is," John remarked.
"So," returned back to his normal, American speaking voice, "What brings you to this part of the forest?"
"I had to take a hike, since I had a bad lunch,"
"A bad lunch," the commander said, concerned. "Lucas, try to see one of our crates if we still have the Matchá tea, the Crème Brule, and any vegetable-only meal."
He returned with these three dishes. It was served to John.
He had a good lunch now.
"Thank you," he said after he was finished, "Those meals were the best, except for the tea."
"Tea is not good when served not hot," said the commander. "So, have you heard of us? I'm sure Mr. Northwest told about our threat to your peaceful society."
"Yes, he calls you Rouge Gnomes"
"Rouge gnomes?" the commander burst into laughter. "He's the rouge one, not me."
"I also heard you say that you're going to launch the "fury of the proletariat" tonight."
"You heard that, but I have to tell you, you got to get out of here when it happens."
o
From afar, Carlton Northwest, has been trying to find the perfect angle, the position to give the Warning to those rouges. As he checked what was going on, he saw John was with them! He couldn't believe it, what's he doing at this part?
As he focuses on the camp, they appear to be singing. "He must be enjoying that acoustic jamming, I wonder though what were they singing…"
…In my mind there's no sorrow
Don't you know that it's so?
There'll be no sad tomorrow
Don't you know that it's so?
i
There is a place
Where I can go
When I feel low
When I feel blue
And it's my mind
And there's no time
When I'm alone
i
There's a place
There's a place
There's a place
There's a place…
After that, the commander proceeded to explain to him why they are doing this, and told him to specifically tell his boss. It was practically very long, with mentions of social justice, oppression, revolution, and his eventual fall.
A crate of food, and other essentials such as revolutionary literature, and signed photographs of Revolutionary icons were given to him, as they let him go back.
"You're going too slowly, you must run, lad, run!"
o
So he did ran, and ran, until he had to take a rest. Those gnomes remind him of the young activists back in his home country, where they were speaking messages of oppression, justice, and revolution.
A whisper then came "Rouge Gnomes"
"AAAHHH!" he fell to the ground once he heard it. It revealed that it was his boss, who was spying on their position.
"How was it, com-rade?" he asked
"Well, sir, they seem to be harmless, and they actually fight for a cause that actually exists."
Mr. Northwest observed back at his binoculars, "Yeah, they're so harmless," he said in a sarcastic tone, "that they got crates of mini assault rifles, launchers, illegal fireworks, and smoke-bombs. So harmless indeed."
"Lad, you need to run, go to my car, and tell René to start it. I'm going to take some pictures, and deliver the Warning. Now go!"
He had to sprint again. At the middle of his sprint, a large shot was heard throughout the forest. It was so loud that the birds flew out of the trees; the squirrels and rabbits, trembled in fear and ran away from the noise.
o
Minutes later, he saw René and his car, idling in the forest while he listens to some classic rock over the radio.
As he boarded in and the car began to leave, he saw Mr. Northwest running towards them, screaming,
"I regret everything!"
"What did you do?" he asked as he let him in the vehicle.
René drove quickly away to the dirt road leading back to the site.
"I think I had triggered them. So they are now chasing us away. Anyhow, I got the pictures. Keep the camera. We have to develop them.
"Quickly René, we have to warn them!"
o
In the afternoon, Dr. Walter and Mr. Pines had returned back to the site, bringing a lot of rock specimen and film with them.
"Where is John?" the doctor asked.
A car rushed, and stopped in front of them. Mr. Northwest quickly came out of the door, "Everyone, we need to get out of here quick! Something dangerous is coming here—"
"—and it's not going to be pretty," John continued.
"What's this now, Carlton?" asked the doctor. "Did you try to hunt a bear, and now it's chasing you?"
"Bear hunting, from a car?" Mr. Northwest replied, "Not today, Horace. You and your apprentice should hop in, a great force is going to attack us!"
The construction manager came to him, "Sir, we have to complete the superstructure today. The last two panels must be installed, or it will collapse."
"Fine then. You have guns to defend yourself, right?"
The manager nodded.
"Please Horace, and Mr. Pines, it's for your safety, Hop in," Mr. Northwest said nicely.
Meanwhile, John kept patting him to notice, a sight that was coming towards them. When Mr. Northwest noticed, he had no words.
"It's just fog." Dr. Walters said.
"That's no fog."