Gravity Rises (S2)

ST: Part Seven

The rest of the week was stop-and-go traffic. Mabel would work at the Museum during the day, moaning at each new chore and obsessing over possible password ideas while cleaning off displays of fake monsters. Then she and Dipper would be off to rehearsal, the laptop tucked safely in its blankets (there was no way she was leaving it at the theater), and she'd spend the rest of the evening frantically typing in passwords. Then they'd go home, and she'd wait until Dipper was asleep before sneaking the laptop out, muffling the speakers with thick towels, and keep going.

And going. And going.

Finally she'd stop, fall asleep, and dream of triangles and BZZT! sounds. More than once was she awoken by dreams about Bill. He never said anything — she could never be sure if it was him or just her memories of him. But he was always there, a simple yellow triangle in her periphery. She stayed awake for longer each night.

She grew more and more tired as the week went on, and Dipper kept giving her suspicious looks whenever she yawned. But she didn't care. She couldn't stop, not when she was so close.

On Friday night, the laptop started locking her out.

The first time it happened, she went into utter panic. She was trying the names of every townsperson she knew when the password box disappeared and the entire screen flashed red.

TOO MANY FAILED ATTEMPTS: RETRY IN 1:00.

Mabel let out a little scream and pulled at her hair as she watched the timer tick down the seconds at a maddeningly slow pace.

0:20.

0:14.

0:07.

Finally, the laptop let her keep trying. Mabel shakily typed in more passwords, trying to shake the terrifying thought out of her head:

She only had so many tries left.

That night, she got irritated easily, and snapped at Dipper when she thought he was taking too long saying good night to Gabby. When they got home, Mabel could hardly wait to keep trying. A part of her was convinced that if she was fast — if she figured out the password as soon as possible — then it wouldn't matter how many attempts she used in the process. She was running out of time.

Saturday dawn rolled around, late in the winter morning, and Mabel wasn't awake to see it. She'd fallen asleep on the floor, still in her clothes, her head and arms propped up on the bed after shoving the laptop under it. Last night, she'd fallen asleep at the keyboard three times before finally giving up.

"Um, Mabes?"

Mabel shot awake, a line of drool flinging into the air. "Wha — what time — "

"It's almost nine. I have my all-day rehearsal in fifteen minutes, remember? Do you think you wanna, um, stay at home? And get some sleep?"

Mabel blinked rapidly. "N-no. All-day rehearsal is perfect. That's plenty of time. Let's go."

Dipper folded his arms. "Mabel, did you stay up all night on the laptop?"

"So what if I did?" she shot back. "You can't control me."

He sighed. "I think you should get some sleep. What if you get sick, like Ford?"

"I won't!" she said in a tone of utmost offense. "I'm not an old man, Dipper."

Everything he said was an attack. Everything she had was focused on the laptop.

They started getting ready in stony silence. Mabel grabbed her sketchbook from the bedside table and put it in her usual bundle. She'd been getting locked out of the laptop for longer and longer, and she figured she could draw while she waited during those times.