Gravity Rises (S2)

HW: Part Three

It turned out that Ford was right: Mabel really couldn't do anything. Ford was inspecting the machinery, tinkering with various nuts and bolts, checking the programming on a bulbous screen to the side of the control station. Mabel would have no idea what he was doing — she didn't trust herself to learn, either, not with Stan's rescue on the line. Maybe it would be fun to learn some mechanics, but now wasn't the time for that.

So she sat. And waited. Ford didn't really talk much besides muttering to himself, so Mabel didn't really feel needed on the company front. She wanted to keep reading the first Journal, but Ford was using all of them. Not all three all the time — he said she was welcome to grab the first one whenever he didn't need it — but being constantly being interrupted whenever Ford needed it back wasn't an enjoyable prospect.

She tried to tell herself she didn't mind. And she didn't, not conceptually, but it was hard to keep her sanity minute by boring minute.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. "Grunkle Ford, do you think you could maybe explain to me what you're doing while you work? I-I don't think it'd be a good idea to, y'know, hand me a wrench, but maybe talking about it will help you think." And help me not go crazy, she added silently.

Ford extricated himself from the machinery he was under and attempted (unsuccessfully) to brush the grease stains off his shirt. "Sure. Right now, I'm just checking the various pipes and wires under these gauges, making sure nothing's rusted through." He put his hands on his hips. "For being abandoned for thirty years, everything is in remarkably good shape. I haven't found anything that needs replacing yet."

"Oh, that's awesome!" Mabel frowned. "I thought gauges were tiny, though." She made a little circle with her hands to demonstrate.

Ford pointed to circular instruments atop the machine. "We just called the whole contraption a gauge to save time."

"Oh." She had been curious, but the real reason she had brought it up was to put off asking her real question. Mabel shrank back a bit, nervous of Ford's reaction. "So. . . what's stopping us from turning it back on all the way?"

"Well, we really shouldn't attempt to turn it on until I finish this evaluation." Ford sighed. "But that's not all, I don't think. I've had this nagging feeling. . . it feels like a bad omen to speak it out loud, but that's nonsense."

"Not entirely," Mabel said. "Bill could hear."

Ford tilted his head in acknowledgement. "You're right. Though I vaguely remember that he can't see into my head, what with this metal plate. Otherwise he probably would've shown up in my dreams already, trying to discourage me."

"Or maybe he just wants you to think he can't."

"Either way," Ford said, "we can't succeed with the portal if we're not open with each other. We're locking down the house; that may be all we can do." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "He might show up in the rest of your dreams, though. Be on the lookout."

Mabel laughed, but it was devoid of humor. "He already shows up in my dreams every night, Grunkle Ford. Just my subconscious versions of him, but I don't know if I'll even notice the difference."

She thought Ford tried to assume a sympathetic expression, but it just looked uncomfortable. "Well. . . keep your guard up." And he ducked back under the machinery.

Both of them were quiet for a full minute. Whatever Ford was thinking, Mabel could only guess, but she was trying to reconcile his dismissive attitude. She knew he had a hard time with empathy, that he didn't know how to be comforting, but some part of her still took his behavior as an insult to her personally. It was hard not to. But he was trying, she knew.