After nine months in California, Dipper couldn't wait to return to Gravity Falls. A small part of him worried on the bus nothing would match their first summer there, but it faded upon arriving when their Grunkles and all their friends greeted them. The first two weeks back were a blur of catching up, punctuated most notably when Mabel had rushed into the living room brandishing an eerie book. Somehow, from some weird quantum afterlife, Bill sent them his own publication. Which sounds like it would be a nightmare, but as Mabel showed off, was more pathetically hilarious than anything. Seriously, "How to woo girls way out of your league for pathetic nerds"? And he couldn't even offer anything to Soos! They all ended up contributing their own pages to the book, in case someone else found this sad autobiography. And with that, Grunkle Ford promised he'd dispose of it and Dipper mostly forgot about it.

Until today.

Rain battered the window as Dipper sat in Ford's lab, reading the letter left for him. Their Grunkles went out shopping for supplies for their next boat trip before the storm hit, and well, while Dipper decided not to become Ford's assistant last summer, he might still help with something down here. The power flickered off and on today from the weather despite Soos' attempts to keep it steady, so Dipper had lit a candle and was surprised when the flames illuminated that cursed novel. The note had explained that Ford was doing some last-minute testing and Dipper was free to experiment as he pleased. Not that Dipper had any intention of speaking with that demon a minute longer. He slid the book a bit further away on the desk and placed the letter back down.

Dipper gave a glance around the crowded desk. Maybe he could help with a few of these papers? He grabbed one placed on top of the computer, and skimmed through it. Apparently, Ford collected a few new people's entries for The Book of Bill? Well, McGucket was one of the best sources to ask, even if his memory wasn't 100%. Still, this entry…

Dipper looked up at the computer in front of him, curious what sort of record about Bill one could even get at a yard sale. He pressed the red switch, uncertain it would even turn on thanks to the lightning. Perhaps because of McGucket's skill with technology, the computer flicked on seamlessly and offered a search bar. With a glance to the paper to confirm the spelling, Dipper typed "HECTORING" into the computer and hit enter.

And it presented him with…the strangest gospel song Dipper's ever heard. He supposed this record counted as music, but did it need to put the image in Dipper's head of a woman tattooing Bill on her…bosom? He put down McGucket's letter, and then hesitated. On the one hand, this computer seemed ancient, and most of its contents were likely no longer relevant or logged in the journals. He should return to sorting through the room looking for new info. On the other hand, curiosity does enrich the cat…

Deciding a bit of online searching wouldn't hurt anything, Dipper typed "MCGUCKET" into the computer, expecting either old notes from Fiddleford or robotic blueprints from McGucket. What he did not anticipate was the computer redirecting him to Cotton Eye Joe. Had Fiddleford deleted all his old files after the portal incident? Who knew this computer could even access the wider modern internet?

Exiting out of the surprise music video, Dipper decided to type one more thing, and if all he got was more silly music he'd stop, "FORD". And instead of research or another nonsense song, the computer presented him one of Ford's old health records. Why would his Grunkle save this? It didn't provide any new info, everyone knew Ford was a genius who made his six fingers an asset. He tried a few methods to get more pages, but twisting the knob only produced static. Dipper shook his head, alright one more search and this was the last. What would two scientists save in this computer? Ciphers? The Memory Gun? Backups of the Journals? How about…"PORTAL"?

Dipper's blood ran cold as the computer responded " HAS BEEN DELETED. I BET YOU COULD BUILD ONE". He shot a concerned look at the dagger-stabbed book in the corner, but it hadn't changed at all. No, he was overthinking again, it was a check of the status of the original portal and a motivational message or something. He'd prove it. There'd either be nothing or some modern notes from Ford, and he could laugh off his paranoia. The thunder rolled ominously as he typed his trump card, "BOOK OF BILL".

"HIDE IT UNDER SHIRT DURING PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE"