Cipher [A Gravity Falls Tale] #Wattys2016

Eight

Richard Northwest arrived a day ahead of schedule. However, Ford had anticipated an early arrival/inspection and he had been prepared. The good news: Northwest was impressed. The bad: Fiddleford tired of practicing the scene after four straight days of rehearsal.

"You seem to be doing great, Stanford," complemented Richard. "Quite well. Rest assured, I have informed your funders of your ongoing success. The parts you need are all yours."

"Thank you," gushed Ford. "I am so glad to hear it. I'm so close, sir. What I can uncover with my gateway will change how we view science itself."

"I have no doubt about it," agreed Northwest. "Continue your research, Ford. We will soon see your success, I have no doubt of that."

Once again, Richard only stayed for a few days while Ford and McGuckett were set up with their tech. Despite its significance to his family, the man confided in Ford that he really didn't care to much for the town. Ford felt himself inclined to agree; if he wasn't spending time in the amazing forests surrounding it, the town of Gravity Falls probably would have worn on him long ago.

Despite that fact, Ford was ready to brave the masses for his friend. Fiddleford had been stressed ever since their encounter with the gremloblin, and the rush to unload the supplies for the portal had not helped. Ford felt that he needed to calm his friend's mind before they proceeded with the most important part of their mission.

He had discovered in one of his rare ventures into town (he now left these to McGuckett, but with the latter's condition, Ford made sacrifices) that the carnival had set up not far from them. If Fiddleford McGuckett appreciated one thing, it was having fun. Hopefully this little outing would cheer his friend up.

As soon as they pulled in, Ford had to suppress a groan. Even from afar, he could already spot way too many fake but overpriced attractions. Fiddleford rushed off at the sight of a pig race, and Ford let him, instead opting to discover the grounds himself.

After passing several obvious fake creatures, Ford approached the tent of a palm reader. He was disgusted at the sight of the long line; the oblivious townspeople were eager to rid their pockets of any money in order to view the blindingly fraudulent attractions. If the wrong person discovered that, they could seriously take advantage of the sleepy town.

Finally, Ford got into the tent. With his sixth finger, he was sure he'd throw the "psychic" for a loop and expose him as a fraud in front of the crowd. The tent was eerily dark, and Ford suddenly regretted his choice. Who was to say that this "palmist" wasn't some sort of crazy person?

"Stanford Pines!" cried a scratchy female voice. Ford wheeled to see an old crone emerge from the shadows and point a gnarled finger at him. She wore a cape that seemed to carry... hands? Ford shivered.

"How do you know my name?" he demanded.

"The Oracle has told of your coming," answered the palm reader cryptically.

"Forget that," dismissed Ford. He was already practically famous in this town, like it or not. "Are you gonna read my palm or what? It was ten bucks to get in here." The palm reader complied, and, after giving him a few clichéd lines about destiny, she began to nervously predict a significant choice in his future.

"Take caution, young adventurer!" she warned. "The spirits show a great choice before you. One path will lead to darkness. You will never return the same!" Despite Ford's protests, she gave him a blue ring. Supposedly, if it turned black, he was in trouble.

Ford snorted and hurried out of the tent. Hogwash, all of it! He had never seen such a clear fake. He rushed to find Fiddleford, who was deep in conversation with a lead worker. This man had a shaved head and strange tattoos detailing the parts of the brain. Ford saw his nametag read Ivan something.