The Triangle's Deception...

Chapter 7: Doubts

Several weeks after their encounter, both scientists have hit a roadblock with Bill and their research. Bill has simply "vanished into thin air". So much for their hopes and dreams.

Mcgucket sat at his desk, pondering over calculations of how this damn thing was possible. Was this real? Maybe a dream? Maybe...maybe he was going insane, and Bill was the first sign. Yeah, that actually made more sense than he had hoped. But if he wasn't actually losing his sanity, he had to admire the fact that Bill knew who to come to. The equations and general ideas were pretty simple, except the "how to get from dimension to dimension" thing. Maybe Ford was having more luck with his little study...

However, McGucket wasn't the only one questioning the triangle's mysterious appearance and disappearance. Wandering through the woods, Stanford was having a riveting conversation...with himself.

"Was Bill really just a dream? Maybe Fidds is right, maybe I have been losing sleep too much. Maybe it's too much coffee. Does coffee affect your dreams? Or maybe I'm just delusional. Oh god, I can't be delusional if I'm going to be famous and a scientist. I need my SANITY-"

He was cut off by some rustling bushes a few feet, stopping in his tracks. His eyes pinned onto the bush, as it rustled more and more...and then a rabbit just emerged from it, running away into the woods. Stanford sighed. He was being paranoid. And he need rest. With dismay, he turned around, heading back to the cabin.

Fiddleford was stuck. He had quadruple checked the equations that he thought were simple, only to find they became more complex every time he reviewed them. They started to make less and less sense as he tried to progress. 

"This is impossible..."

Without "Bill", this whole thing didn't even make sense. He caught himself mid-yawn. He' d only slept a few hours last night, working on these same equations. Some tea should get his mind working. Getting up from his desk, he quickly made his way to the kitchen. He pulled out a cup from the cabinet, something catching his eye, nearly making him drop the cup. He set it down on a nearby counter, reaching into the cabinet and pulling out a... a sticky note? One of his yellow sticky notes. He turned it around. A drawing of a triangle, with one eye...a top hat, bow tie...Bill. Below, written in messy and hasty handwriting, "The dream was real Fidds."

Stanford was nearing the cabin, several minutes away. He couldn't wait to get back, and... relax? He wasn't really familiar with that term. He was busy doing SOMETHING all the time. He didn't have time to relax. Not when there was so much to discover. He glanced around at the birch trees, still in all their summer glory. However, September was on its way they wouldn't stay that way. He looked at one particular birch, having to do a double take. Wait a minute...was that...no way.

He quickly jogged over to inspect it. Carved into the wood, there he was. Bill. Underneath it, there was a small message inscribed. "The dream was real, Sixer. Don't lose hope." 

"Sixer? How did he know...his nickname for me? Don't lose hope..." 

This confirmed it, then. Bill was real, and none of them knew to any extent what he was, and what they were dealing with.