[CLOSED] "There's never been bad, there has always been truth."

[mviw]

Who: Ford Pines (mviw & Fiddleford McGucket (mcgucket)
Where: Room 333
When: BACKDATED; Late afternoon/evening of 17th of October
Rating: PG!
Summary: Ford tries to help his best friend acclimate a little... and catch up a few decades.
The Story:

[The mess (and embarrassment) from earlier in the day with all the robots was finally over with and cleaned up with Alphys' assistance. His room was only next door, and Ford quietly wishes the walk was much longer so he might have time to clear his head and rearrange his thoughts before he went to speak to Fiddleford.

Ford stands outside his room's door and inhales deeply. He smoothes over his jacket and sweater, preens his hair in the reflective surface of the knob.

It's fine. You look fine.

... But he recognizes Ford, doesn't he? He wouldn't agree to meet him if he didn't, or perhaps he was just being nice.

He sighs, knocks as a courtesy despite it being his own room, and opens the door.]

Fiddleford? It's me, it's Stanford.

[Ford's room is an almost exact copy of his room back in Gravity Falls-- although the blue carpet is rolled up and firmly in a corner, the walls are cluttered with large and small sheets of paper containing calculations and equations regarding his theory of Wonderland in an attempt to describe its dimension and properties-- and near the couch is an open door leading off to a smaller room containing little else but a bed, a nightstand, a closet, and a very large pile of what appears to be boxes of food, medical supplies, and ammunition.

The ceilings of both rooms (but not the bathroom) are apparently enchanted-seeming nighttime replicas of the sky of Gravity Falls. Pine trees are silhouetted against the starry sky, giving the illusion of even brighter stars twinkling overhead.

With the addition of the bedroom, there also appears to be an alcove in the wall where a bird makes its roost (incidentally, the window is open). Near the bathroom sits a covered litter box, and on the couch sleeps a sprawled kitten with extra toes.

The rooms are entirely fitting of Ford for anyone who knows him.

Ford shuts the door behind him and begins locking the numerous bolts. Can't be too careful.]

Comments

[mviw]

[Fiddleford's discomfort is almost lost on Ford. He looks his old friend up and down, wondering if he ought to be offended at what he just said.]

A lot has changed. Trust me.

[There's no need to start a fight over petty squabbles, but boy is it tempting to do so.] ... I apologize, I shouldn't lose my temper. To tell you the truth, you were here a few weeks ago. This is the second time I've told you all of this. It's typical for people to come and go in Wonderland, and apparently no one remembers anything if and when they return.

I've gone home once, and I can report that I remembered nothing of Wonderland while I was there. It's... very surreal, but no time passes at home between arriving here and being there again. Our portal couldn't manage that.

[mcgucket]

Hang on, I was here before? That's...

[Impossible, he wants to say, because how could somebody have forgotten something like... um.

Hello uncomfortable feeling, glad to see you're still here for some reason?]

... unbelievable. [Is what he settles on, but let's try focusing on something else here worth noting.] I don't suppose you remember how you were able to leave this place, do you?

[mviw]

[... Ford decides against touching on the subject of the memory gun. He finally has a seat on the couch, because if Fiddleford won't sit, he will--and he was already a good host in making the offer!

So... that leads to the question. He shakes his head.]

No, I'm afraid not. One moment I was--where I was, in Gravity Falls, and the next, I was here. It was the same when I returned to our dimension. [He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, thinking it might also be best to keep the impending apocalypse out of this conversation too.

... Ford doesn't like keeping this many secrets when the last time he did it got his best friend scarred for life.]

[mcgucket]

[Fiddleford considers that for a moment, and while he doesn't exactly intend to just stand the whole time during this conversation, he does start pacing a little here, thinking. He doesn't have a pen or anything in his hands to work with here so he just has to deal with wringing them as he thinks about everything he's been told so far.]

Earlier when we spoke, you said that you had a theory regardin' this place, right?

[Is now a good time to try sharing it with us?]

[mviw]

[Ford notices Fiddleford's hands and he's overcome with nostalgia.]

That's right! Before I show you what I've been working on, let me get something first. [He leaps up from the couch and reaches the closet in a few strides. What he produces is... well... probably rather familiar.

He offers it out with a grin.]

Now let's take a look at my theory, shall we?

[mcgucket]

[Sweet Sally, is that what we think it is.]

Oh, gosh Stanford, you didn't have to go get somethin' like this.

[And yet, he holds a hand out to accept the cubics rubix cube with interest, and already begins to turn it over a little here in his hands to examine it.

Despite how much it feels like his state of understanding everything going on here is a bit of a jumbled mess, this is a rather nice offering to have in our hands here. That said, we should try to focus on the conversation at hand.]

So, that theory of yours...? [Let's get down to it, then.]

[mviw]

[It's always better to go at work when one's brain is in the correct mindset. And... maybe... Ford remembers all too well what it was like arriving here. Small comforts can do a lot of good.

Smiling, he pulls himself back to the task at hand.] Right! The theory. [Ford whips out his research journal from where else but his coat and opens it on his desk to a two-page spread titled Converging Universes: The Wonderland Nexus Theory. It becomes instantly clear that calculations tacked up on the wall labelled "WNT" apply to this part of his new journal.

The two-page spread has a neatly hand-drawn diagram of a large oblong circle in the center with arrows pointing to and from it. The arrows connect it to smaller ovals which contain labels that are, evidently, dimensional coordinates and designations; as one of them, labelled 46'\ has the word "home" under it in parentheses. On the left page there is a description of this theory and it continues on the right--but Ford will just explain it out loud, because he likes hearing himself talk he wouldn't just shove a book into his friend's face.]

See this? That is how I imagine Wonderland. [He moves aside so Fiddleford can take a look.] Imagine a universe with a controlled tension that prevents most alterations of spacetime through use of extremely powerful magic, science, or both. Now imagine that universe is flexible enough to draw other universes to it, pulling denizens of those universes over the threshold, sometimes even returning them to their respective worlds and timelines.

What could this power possibly be? It was strong enough to keep both our portal and another portal designed by another scientist here--his portal used the folding method--from allowing us to escape. It's strong enough to draw us from our home universes and return us the moment we left, and without a single memory of having been here.

[Ford folds his hands behind his back and gazes at the equations up on his wall.] Which leads me to a more sinister aspect of this place. Seemingly nonsensical physics aside, what with the impossibly magic closets and spacial distortion... [He furrows his brow. This is likely to bring up some very uncomfortable things, but... it must be discussed.]

The memory loss. With each event, the people from that event's original world lose a word or phrase. So far I've lost two words--those words are related to the event itself. Events seemingly pull from a person's world or perhaps their memories, based on my observations. That's why I believe Wonderland has an uncanny flexibility despite the apparent strength of its universal barrier. [Ford shrugs.] Either events are worlds colliding with Wonderland, or they're projections of memories of the people who were brought here.

Having been here nearly a year, I can also attest to anecdotes of people losing different memories themselves. Memories are also used as currency from the vendors to obtain specific items from home. [He glances off to the side, because the admission he's about to make is a guilty one.]

I... I agreed to give up a memory to help "Bill-proof" the basement laboratory. I don't know what memory they took, which I suppose is for the best. I also don't know what long-term effects this universe has on the people living here; psychological trauma notwithstanding. Several people have been here for at least four years now. Many go home, and sometimes they return. According to Stanley and the kids, I was here for a time, but I have no recollection of it.

[He pauses briefly and peers up at the starry sky of his ceiling.]

Lastly... Death isn't permanent here. According to various sources, each one of us is allowed four deaths. Once you die a fifth time... something happens. I died shortly after arriving here.

[Ford begins pacing slowly, hands still clasped at his back.] There was an event, and... I took the kids out in a strange forest to explore.

We didn't listen to my brother, and all the Pineses died in the cold, dark of that forest because I didn't want to be cautious. Stan died too because he went into the dark to look for us. It took us 24 hours to revive, except for Dipper, who had already died once. [He falls heavily silent, stopping his pacing, and he keeps his back turned to Fiddleford because he'd rather his friend not see the pained look on his face.]

... I think this world siphons memories from the people it steals. The memory loss is permanent in nature so much so that if someone were to speak the word or name or whatever a person has forgotten, that person would never remember it. That forgotten thing would be blotted from their mind forever, like reality here has redacted words in every one of us.

[At last, all that exposition out of the way, Ford returns to the desk and leans on its surface, all twelve fingers spread out.]

I'm sorry, Fiddleford. I know this must be extremely stressful to say the least, but you have me, and you have my family too.

... We're all in this together.

[mcgucket]

[Fiddleford looks at Ford's notes and listens to what his colleague has to say, looking increasingly uncomfortable when the conversation turns toward memories. He tries not to think about the device he had made before arriving, or about the mental blueprints of it crossing his mind here.

It's better to forget the bad things, but losing what might have been the good things too... what kind of memory did his friend potentially lose at the cost of keeping that demon at bay? And then at the mention of his friend dying...]

God, Stanford, that's... I'm sorry you had somethin' like that happen.

[Despite his previous grievances with the other man, despite the little voice in the back of his mind that says that Stanford should have known better than to involve himself, and honest to god kids, with a strange forest he knew nothing about... no, he didn't deserve that. He shouldn't have had to experience something that horrible. The memory gun crosses his mind again, briefly, a passing thought wondering if Stanford would be happier if he didn't remember this event he spoke of anymore, but the thought is pushed aside by an even greater worry of something similar potentially happening to himself here.

Or his own family, heaven forbid, should they find their own way here too. He doesn't think he could handle seeing something bad happen to them, let alone potentially forgetting about them instead of the things that should be forgotten. Still, once he's heard everything Stanford has to say, it's Fiddleford's turn to look down rather than at his friend.]

I... I don't even know what to say. I never could'a imagined that there might be somethin' like this that I'd find myself on the wrong end of.

[Hahaha if only you knew Fiddleford, if only you knew... okay harsher in hindsight comments aside, Fiddleford reaches out and places a hand on one of Stanford's on the table in an attempt to try to be reassuring here. "Try" being the key word here.]

But if there's anythin' I can do for you that might help, both you and your family, I'll do what I can: m--maybe we'll figure somethin' out that can turn this horse back around? [So to speak.]

[mviw]

[Ford opens his mouth to comment that it's alright, he's fine, but he pauses to smile in surprise at Fiddleford's comforting hand. He was always fully accepting of Stanford's extra digits and the gesture, as well as his words, are a welcome thing in Ford's book. He briefly pats Fiddleford's hand with his other--with anyone else, even Stan, he would have pulled his hand away--and smiles.]

Thank you. That's the spirit! As long as you don't mind having an old geezer for a friend. [HEH] I'd be happy to give you a tour of the mansion, if you would like. Aside from the events, living here isn't always so awful, and I've met some very fascinating people.