fate's got a driver
Dipper still can't quite believe what is happening. Great-Uncle Ford is here, at the Pines' house! And not only that, he has something to share, something exciting! Dipper had already been having a pretty good day. Now it's something special.
"Initially, I believed my equipment needed a reset. There's substantially more chances for interference in a city like this and I thought my attempts to increase the sensitivity had backfired," Ford says as he moves quickly down the stairs.
Dipper tries to listen and keep up, which is often the case when it comes to Ford. At least Dipper's legs are longer now. It's not as hard to stay close.
"But then I began to consider my readings in a different light; specifically, in the light of your theory. Suddenly, what I was seeing made a great deal more sense." Ford crosses the driveway and unlocks the back of the rental truck.
Dipper's eyes widen when he sees the array of electronics stored inside. He doesn't know exactly what he's looking at, but it sure is cool. "What kind of readings?" he asks, climbing up into the truck after his great-uncle.
"See for yourself." Ford flips a switch and one of the monitors springs to life. The display looks sort of like an old radar scope. Most of it is blank, but there's a green mass on the left side of the circle.
Dipper leans in to look more closely at the green. "What is it?"
"An anomalous sector. In other words: something Weird!" Ford presses a few buttons. The blob comes into focus, shrinking as the screen seems to zoom out until it's a bit left of the center. There's now a faint patina of green at the left side in addition to the darker portion. "Left is North, relative to where we're standing," Ford explains. "That shading you see is Gravity Falls; or rather, its signal bleed. This Weirdness Emission Spectrometer is what I use for close range determinations, so it's much less sensitive than my long-range equipment. Even this far away, Gravity Falls' signal can be detected throughout the spectrum."
Dipper is suddenly much more concerned about that solid green blob. "Wait—so then that big spot…"
"Now you see why I assumed my readings were incorrect! After all, what are the odds of finding an anomaly right here in Piedmont? Stanley and I crossed most of the country without seeing anything so concentrated. But I'm confident it's working properly." Ford claps a hand on Dipper's shoulder, smiling proudly. "Yet more evidence for your theory! I highly doubt this is coincidental."
Dipper is elated, if also a little concerned for Piedmont. "Wow… I wonder what it is?"
"In all our travels we never encountered something this centralized. Most of my measurements were taken at sites that seem to be the remnants of temporary rifts; short-lived holes to other dimensions that close as quickly as they open. I believe them to be a side-effect of Weirdmageddon, but I've yet to find one stable enough to examine while it still exists." Ford puts his finger on the blob. "I think this is what I've been looking for."
The sight of the monitor glow catching in the edge of Ford's glasses is an image so familiar that it transports Dipper directly back to the summer. He shakes it off, concentrating on all this new information. "Couldn't that be dangerous?"
"Yes, I suppose it could," Ford says, not sounding particularly concerned. "We stand to learn a great deal from this. I'd like you to help me track it down."
"Of course!" Dipper says immediately. Great-Uncle Ford has hardly just arrived, and he's already got an adventure for them. It's turning out to be a pretty great day.
"Wait, you just said this was dangerous," Pacifica says.
Dipper spins around, chagrined to realize she is standing just outside the back of the truck. "Uh, well, it won't be too dangerous, right Great-Uncle Ford?"
"Who can say?" Ford cheerfully replies as he starts to dig through another pile of his equipment.
Dipper really should have known better. He looks at Pacifica and shrugs helplessly. She puts her hands on her hips, appearing less than mollified by that response.
"Dipper, would you go back inside and inform Stanley of our departure?" Ford asks absently, fiddling with a handheld device.
Dipper automatically hops down out of the truck and goes to do as his grunkle asked, only to find himself swiftly intercepted on the sidewalk by Pacifica. "Tell me what's going on," she demands.
He tries to summarize. "Uh, there's some kind of dimensional tear in Piedmont and me and Great-Uncle Ford are going to go find it so we can study it, and maybe close it? I don't know if we can do that or not."
"A tear? Like the one last summer?" she says. Her tone is at maximum imperiousness, but she is very pale.
"No, not like that," he reassures her. Then he stops to think about it. "Well, I mean, sort of like that…"
"So, what? You're going to fight him again?"
Dipper doesn't need to ask who 'he' is. "No, he's dead. I think this tear could go anywhere, or maybe nowhere. Grunkle Ford said these things close themselves all the time. It might be gone if we don't hurry," he hints, taking a half step backwards.
One side of her upper lip curls with aristocratic incredulity. "You're crazy. And your great-uncle is an even bigger dork than you are, which should be impossible. And you're even crazier if you think you're going without me."
"That's fine with me, but you'll have to ask Great-Uncle Ford," Dipper tells her, backing away again. "I'll be right back!"
"Fine, I'll talk to him," she says, her tone making it clear she is far from being a supplicant. She spins around with her blonde hair flashing in the sunlight, tossed dismissively.
Dipper might have been offended by her sudden attitude if he hadn't already seen it before. She's worried and out of her element and doing her best to hide it with a haughty air and a biting delivery. He can deal with her in a minute. First, he has to find Grunkle Stan and Mabel. Dipper figures there's about a zero percent chance that Mabel will sit this one out. Grunkle Stan could go either way, depending on how lazy he's feeling after a day spent in the truck.
When Dipper gets to the upstairs hall, he can hear voices coming from Mabel's room. He goes to her door; Mabel is showing off some of her recent crafts, including her huge wall collage of Shack photographs from Soos.
"I really think I captured the mystery," Mabel is saying as Dipper enters the room.
"Why, it barely looks like a shack at all! Nice work, pumpkin," Grunkle Stan says, studying the collage. "Is Soos still printing pamphlets? We gotta shove this under some doors."
"Hey!" Dipper interrupts. "Ford found an anomaly right here in Piedmont and we're going to check it out!"
Mabel immediately dives into her closet and emerges with her grappling hook in hand. "GRAPPLING HOOK!"
"Might come in handy," Dipper agrees, having underestimated the grappling hook before. "Are you coming, Grunkle Stan?"
Stan sighs heavily. "Obviously. Someone has to keep you eggheads from blowing us all up."
Dipper laughs. "Come on, Ford wouldn't… I mean, not on purpose, not if…" He trails off, realizing he might be on the wrong side of the argument.
"I like your confidence," Grunkle Stan sarcastically informs him. "Let's go, kid."
Mabel slings an arm around Dipper's shoulder on the way out her door, grappling hook raised jauntily in one hand. "Mystery Twins!" she proclaims.
Dipper tugs Journal A out of his vest pocket and tucks it beneath his arm. "Mystery Twins," he affirms.
Back outside, Dipper is just starting to consider the logistics of cramming everyone into the rental truck when he realizes Pacifica is nowhere to be seen. He leaves Mabel and Grunkle Stan at the cab and goes around to the back.
He finds Pacifica holding one side of a console open, Great-Uncle Ford's lower half protruding from its innards. Dipper isn't surprised that Ford solicited Pacifica's help; he tends to treat everyone around him as assistants, willing or not, when he's deep into a problem. Dipper is surprised that Pacifica agreed to help.
Then again, maybe he shouldn't be surprised. Pacifica had certainly dragged her feet when it had come to building the Shacktron, but she eventually put forward some effort. Or maybe she just doesn't want to get left behind and has decided to be helpful so long as she gets what she wants. Whatever the case, he knows better than to ask.
"That should do it," Ford announces, his voice echoing hollowly from inside the console. He backs out on his hands and knees and takes the metal sheet from Pacifica. "I'll just tape this back into place for now. I've bolted things together a few too many times before they were properly fixed."
"Okay," Pacifica says in a tone that indicates she isn't sure why he felt the need to inform her of that.
"I found Grunkle Stan and Mabel," Dipper says, climbing into the truck. "They're both coming along."
"Yes, excellent," Ford says, still intent on his console. "Here, place your finger near this junction and tell me when you feel a shock."
Dipper reaches forward without considering it and then stops when he sees Pacifica looking at him like he's lost his mind. "Um, did you hear what I said? Grunkle Stan and Mabel are coming with us."
"Yes, Stanley will drive us. With the proper direction, of course." Ford stands and reaches up to slide open a hatch Dipper hadn't noticed before. It set in the back of the truck cab—they're greeted with the sight of Mabel's braces glittering in the slot as her grin practically fills it.
"What's up, nerd team!" she shouts.
"Yeah, we're the cool team, nerds," Grunkle Stan jibes from somewhere behind her.
"Yes, yes, we're all intelligent," Ford says impatiently. "Stanley, you'll need to start heading east until I get a more precise reading."
The truck shudders to life, shaking beneath Dipper's feet. He reaches out and steadies himself with what's closest, which happens to be Pacifica. She doesn't pull away, but she's now glaring at the slot to the cab. "Oh, nuh uh, no way. I am not on the nerd team."
Dipper nudges her arm and tentatively wraps his fingers around hers. "Hey, it's not so bad," he suggests.
She rolls her eyes, though she doesn't tug her hand out of his loose grip. "Yeah, this is so great. We're all going to get eaten by an even bigger Boss-Lobster or radiated or something else gross."
"Irradiated," he automatically corrects her.
Now she does pull her hand away. "Ugh, whatever. If you think I want an irradiated boyfriend, you'd better think again."
"A valid concern, but I have a Geiger Counter for just such occasions," Great-Uncle Ford says, moving to the other side of the rocking vehicle. He extracts the Geiger Counter from a pile of assorted instrumentation. "It's one of my own design. Of course, I should probably turn it on." He flips a switch. There's a short beep and a light comes on; the machine emits nothing else. "There, see? We're perfectly fine, assuming it's functioning correctly."
"Perfectly fine," Pacifica repeats. While her voice is too flat to be openly mocking, she is clearly less than appeased.
Dipper is beginning to wonder if he should have ridden up front with her. Then he imagines her spending any time in close quarters with Grunkle Stan and realizes things could be much worse.
He glances towards Ford to make sure the scientist is distracted by work. He puts his hand on Pacifica's elbow and guides her to the side, or at least as much to the side as they can get in the back of a rental truck.
"Look, you don't have to come if you really don't want to. I know hunting dimensional anomalies isn't your idea of a great afternoon," he says. He tries to make it clear in his tone that he's okay with that, that he understands she doesn't have the same interest in this sort of… endeavor? That sounds more official than the spontaneous charge into the unknown that's actually taking place.
Somehow, he still says the wrong thing; Pacifica's eyes spark electric blue. "I am not scared!" she hisses at him.
"Wh— I didn't say that!" he stammers back, unprepared for her vitriol.
She backs off slightly, eyes still narrowed. "Then why don't you want me to come?"
"Pacifica, I thought you didn't want to," he says, confused. "I mean, you're not really into this, right?"
"What I'm not into is getting attacked by eyeballs or covered in, in ectoslime, or whatever, or irradiated, or turned to stone, or spazzed at by a stupid Boss-Lobster, or trying to keep you from getting your big dork head snipped right off!"
So, she is scared. Or, scared for him? Or both of them? Or… something? He's so bad at this. "This isn't like the Boss-Lobster. It's not just us. And it's not like the end of summer, either, okay? This is just an anomaly. Besides, Great-Uncle Ford knows what he's doing."
Something heavy falls over behind them as Grunkle Stan brakes, bouncing off one of the consoles with a worrying crack. "I've got it!" Ford calls out.
Dipper sighs. Maybe that wasn't a good point to end on.
Pacifica crosses her arms, her true feelings disappearing behind a mask of indifference. "Fine. But I'm not holding your hand if you get alien cooties."
"Yeah, that's fair," Dipper agrees with a small smile.
The truck hits another bump and he grabs hold of the nearest stack of equipment even though he's not sure it's any more stable than he is. It's not the most auspicious start to an anomaly hunt, bouncing around the back of a rental truck, but he's had worse. At least this time he's prepared.
You know. Probably.