Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Second Dimension, or Euclydia commonly, was deep in the Dimension Dimensions. The Third Dimension, or Cylindrium, could process Euclydia with their three-dimensional minds. They could also process Linedor, the First Dimension. However, Euclydia could never process Cylindrium. The Euclydians had a line of scope limited to a flat line of sight. The Eucyldians could process Linedor, but that was about it.

"The stars are beautiful, Billy. I - we - want you to see them." Euclid said, taking his son by his small hand.

To his wife, Euclid was a tall red triangle. He wore a black top hat on top of his sharp point of an angle. He had one eye, an oddity among the Second Dimension.

"Oh, yes, they're gorgeous, Billy. One day, you'll understand." Scalene said, taking his other hand.

Scalene was a blue triangle, slightly shorter and smaller than Euclid. She had a black bow on her chest, centered on her Cyclops eye.

Little Billy was a baby yellow triangle. He had one eye, big and curious, with long eyelashes like Scalene. He had Velcro shoes on, blue and light blue. There was a baseball on the heel. Like most baby shapes of the Second Dimension, his arms were tiny. They were practically stubs that only stuck out from his sides.

Billy didn't understand. While he had one eye, just like his parents, he couldn't see what they saw. He couldn't even see them fully. To all of the shapes of the Second Dimension and, tragically, their son, the couple were just lines. Euclid and Scalene were lines that spouted stories and nonsense, as Billy's friends and teachers called it, about 'stars.' Billy could see a small horizontal line with a tall vertical line that he learned was Euclid's hat. He could see a small black line on where he assumed Scalene's chest was and he learned it was her bow.

Billy didn't understand. He inherited the one-eye deformity, but he didn't have their sight. But, he listened innocently. Stars in his parent's definition were large rays of light. There was also something called a sky, which was the stars' home. There were colors up 'there,' too — purple mingling with blue, with small stars among the swirls. There were also spots of pitch darkness, where there wasn't any color!

"Do you want to see the stars?"

Scalene questioned, rubbing her baby boy's small hands.

Billy loved Scalene and Euclid, he truly did. They understood how it felt, being an abomination and 'imperfect.' He couldn't see them, but he felt how much they loved him. Whenever he had nightmares, Scalene was always there to tuck him back in. When he had trouble understanding the math homework Mr. Parallelogram gave him, he could always count on Euclid to teach him the right way - the silly way.

Maybe, if he could see the stars, he could finally be like Mommy and Daddy. Maybe, he could even see them.

"Of course, I do, mommy."

"Euclid, I think it's time."

Euclid and Scalene moved Billy to the side and joined hands. The beauty they saw grew closer as they tried for the hundredth time to leave this flat plane. With great concentration and power, they popped off the Second Dimension. The sky was now right in front of them. As their bodies peeled from the dimension, there was the sound of paper ripping. However, they couldn't focus on it. The celestials were beautiful from their flat plane, but here, it was something that couldn't even be described.

There was an enormous cloud of pink, blue, gold, and purple - a nebula.

Stars were spaced and arranged perfectly to create a beautiful pattern, they were constellations. There was one that was a big dot-to-dot star pattern of a kitchen ladle. A large distance away from it was a smaller shape of that same kitchen ladle.

There was a large streak of white and blue - a shooting star.

"We did it!" Euclid declared with triumph. "After all these years!"

"Yes, dear, we did."

The two turned back to their flat dimension. They could see everything from where they were. They could Mrs. Circle and her wife, Hexagon, making tea for their little circles. Euclid pointed to his buddies at the Pentagon's house, where they were playing cards. Scalene could see her book club having another meeting and could faintly hear the new gossip. 

Most importantly, they could see Billy. He looked so small among the vast white space. Little tears were in his eyes as his pupil looked from left and right and up and down, trying to find his parents again.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

"We're right here, son!" Euclid called out to him.

The others of the dimension stopped what they were doing. They recognized the voice and knew it was Euclid's, but where was it coming from?

"Euclid, now's our chance! Let's help them see the stars!"

Scalene took hold of one end of the four angles of the Second Dimension. It felt soft and fragile, like paper. She didn't notice it, but there were wrinkles where her fingers pinched it.

Euclid took hold of the other two angles.

Together, they pulled their dimension up, effectively propping it up. There was a great cry, as the Second Dimension felt a great pain burn in their bodies. They began to scream from the agony they didn't understand. Among their cries, they could distinctly hear Billy's. Even as the screams, high and low, blended into a terrible orchestra, they could still make out their son's screams. 

One by one, each shape stopped screaming. First, it was the shapes at the top. Then, the ones in the middle went silent. Then, at the very bottom, they began to go quiet. 

However, the last one to stop screaming was Billy. For ten solid seconds after the silence, he just kept screaming and crying for his parents.

"Mommy!"

"What's happening, Scalene?!"

"Daddy!"

"Billy, what's happening? Why are you screaming?" The red triangle's voice was panicked and high.

Then, finally, Billy stopped screaming. His one eye, filled with tears he couldn't shed, stared at his parents. It was unblinking now. 

Euclid and Scalene watched, one eye wide, as red liquid came from under their son. They looked around and noticed all the shapes were leaking this strange crimson. It just kept spreading, the red conquering everything it touched. Euclid looked at his fingers and the crimson had stained his fingers. It was a red darker than his and oh, the smell. It smelled like metal. The scent was thick and it smelled ghastly.

"W-What happened? Answer us, Billy!" Scalene stuttered. 

Billy didn't reply.

Scalene reached down to take their son out of the now-red Second Dimension. But, she saw her hand go right through. She had torn it! Scalene gasped and pulled her hand out of it. What was left was a large hole.

The whole dimension started to sag. It began to warp, the shapes they once knew as their ridiculers and gossipers becoming wrinkled and shriveled. Then, piece by piece, the dimension began to fall apart. The book club was the first to go, falling in two shreds. Euclid's buddies were the second. Then, Billy's school, the coffee shop, the park they used to go to, the high school down the street, and so many others.

But, what was last to go was, ironically, their home.

They could do nothing but watch as the shreds fell, tattered and broken, into the sky they once found so beautiful. While Euclid watched what he and his family had once and only known fall into the starry abyss, Scalene couldn't take her eye off her son.

Billy was on a small shred. The red was an ugly color on Scalene's hand, so different from her blue. However, among the red, was what was left of her son. It was just a shred of paper, no bigger or longer than the palm of her hand. Scalene cradled it, as she did when she and Euclid merged to create their little triangle.

"Oh, Euclid..."

There was only silence now. What used to be Euclydia was gone. But, if they closed their eyes, they could still hear their screams and the terrible sound of tearing paper. If they wanted to, they could still imagine the red seeping out from under the Euclydians.

"What have we done?"

Chapter Text

It was rather ironic, an abomination studying other abominations.

Stanford Filbrick Pines, or just simply Ford, had been born and raised in Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey, some town on the American East Coast. Specifically, he had grown up in the Lead Paint District. His childhood was as unpleasant as the name of his childhood home. Ford remembered being shoved into a school closet with the word 'FREAK' written on his pimpled forehead with a bright red marker. Another time, he was asked on a date by some cute girl only to realize it was just some bet.

But, why? Why was a man subjected to such torment? Well, Ford was born with polydactyly. It was a rare condition that affected one of five hundred to one thousand babies yearly. In short, he had six fingers on both hands. It wasn't his fault that he head born as he was, despite everyone making it seem like it was.

The only ones who didn't make Ford regret ever being born were his mother and twin brother, Stanley, or just Lee. But, ever since that incident that broke Ford's perpetual motion machine and had him crossed off West Coast Tech's list, they had a huge falling out. When Ford meant huge, he meant HUGE. Stanley was kicked out and Ford had to go to Backupsmore, a college whose reputation was held up by having 'mostly' clean dorms.

Frankly, Ford hadn't spoken to Stanley in a while. He didn't know if he was okay or not. But, he shouldn't think about the person who ruined his future and cost his family millions.

Plus, Stanley was a tough one. He could handle his own.

When he was a fresh graduate of Backupsmore, he was studying the place where he noticed the paranormal ran rampant. It was the sleepy town of Gravity Falls, Oregon. With his grant money, he built a formidable lab disguised as a cabin in the middle of the woods. Solitude was needed, so he could research with none of the townsfolk pestering him. Most importantly, no government officials would come knocking on his door. 

Hopefully.

Ever since Ford arrived at this hamlet, he had started keeping journals. They were all red leatherback books branded with the golden emblem of his six-fingered hand. Their pages were filled with supernatural discovery after supernatural discovery. From gnomes to shape-shifters to the undead, Ford had documented them all!

But, like most things, it wasn't enough for little ol' Ford. It never was enough.

That's why he had his bunker laboratory built underground and why he was working on a third journal! The bunker helped Ford host more dangerous projects and experiments. It also was a base of operations for Ford and his lab partner and dear friend, Fiddleford McGucket. When, not if, the end times came, it would become a shelter. It was already stocked with a few hundred years of some mystery meat that never expired.

Even with all his tech and brains, it had been six months since his last discovery. 

Six months!

If you asked the young man how he felt, he would say it was just a temporary setback.

If you asked him how he TRULY felt, he would say he was on the verge of insanity.

His insanity had stretched so far that he decided to venture into the woods of Gravity Falls alone. He knew the dangers and what was waiting to sink its fangs into him, but he wanted something new to put into his journal. Ford would've had Fiddleford come, but the other man had decided to stay back. Too hot, was his excuse. To say Ford was displeased was an understatement, but he soon realized just ten minutes into his hike that his friend was the smarter of the pair for choosing to stay put in the cool bunker.

It was sweltering. If Ford had stayed just a few more seconds before he walked out the door, he would've heard his old TV set say that temperatures would be reaching 108 degrees today. It didn't feel like 108, it felt like 180!

The fact that Ford was wearing his trench coat - that was in desperate need of a wash - didn't help at all. He couldn't take it off, that was out of the question! His cover would be blown, as his coat concealed all his weapons and kept his journal safe. If, perchance, a hiker would've come across him carrying an expertly made ray gun made with alien technology that was millions of years old, who knows what would happen?

Ford would rather that stay unknown.

As much as he would love to continue to melt in this furnace, he needed a break. But, he was too far from the lab to think about turning back. Even the bunker was too far.

When the wind blew another burst of humid heat into his face, Ford groaned. He ran a hand through his brown hair, brushing it away from his sweaty forehead. He couldn't take it anymore, he needed shade and rest!

The scientist had been walking near the rigid wall of the mountain Ford knew as Meteor Ridge. It had been called that as it had been formed by a meteor crash during the age of dinosaurs. The crash had changed the land formation to create the incredible mountain range. He had tried to discover more things about it during his drought of discoveries, but it seemed like he had discovered everything about it.

Ford sighed tiredly, leaning against the natural structure. His eyes drooped and his eyes fully closed.

From his exhaustion, he hadn't realized that the rock he was leaning on, which he had thought to be stable, had started to crack. It would've held him, but Ford fully put his weight against it. One cracked turned into two, then into three, then into five, into nine, into eleven, and so on. 

It wasn't until the cracks had stretched past his form when he realized what was happening, but it was far too late. There was a small rumble and the cracks had widened even more. There was a small rumble, and then the mountain beneath him split open. The rock wall gave way and he screamed and fell sideways. His vision is plunged into darkness. Ford fell for what seemed like eternity, as if he had fallen into the Bottomless Pit, even though it had only been a few seconds. He didn't fall straight down, rather diagonally. It was as if he was falling on some sort of slope.

Ford's breath was knocked out of his lungs as he landed on a bed of rubble. There was a clatter as his glasses were knocked off his face and skid away from where he was. There was a loud thud and dust swirled around him, coating his eyes, nose, and mouth. He coughed, hacking up whatever question managed to get into his lungs. Ford rubbed the dust from his eyelids and blinked. The sun could barely make its way into the cave, it was that deep! He fetched his flashlight from his trench coat, flicking its on-switch.

Ford found his glasses and put them back on, pushing them to their rightful place on the top of the bridge of his nose.

Most people would be scared of falling into a cave they never knew was there, but not Stanford Pines.

Nope!

He saw this as an opportunity, maybe he had discovered his big break. When he shined his flashlight onto the cave's timeworn walls, he realized he did. He truly did.

There was painting after painting that covered every inch of the cave.

The first painting was from the Egyptian times.

Usually, Egyptian paintings would be of the ancient Ennead gods. Maybe of life or death, sometimes the pharaohs. But, this time, it was something different. Ford was able to tell they were Egyptian because of the pyramids and the art style. There were four people on the ground. Two were bowing and on their knees. The other two were offering up their hands up to the sky. On a throne was a pharaoh, pointing to the left. Ford followed the pointed finger. He expected a depiction of a deity from that time or something important.

Not two triangles. Especially not two triangles wearing garments that were certainly not ancient or Egyptian.

One triangle was drawn with rustic red paint. With black paint, the artists had drawn the triangle with one eye, a top hat, and black arms and legs. Their legs were bent at the knee. One arm was stretched up to the sky, with orange fire around it. The other was pointing to the ground, where crops were flourishing and a river, probably the Nile, was running.

The red triangle's other hand was in the hand of the other triangle, this one was blue. Like the other shape, they also had one eye and black arms and legs. Unlike the red one, they didn't wear a top hat. Instead, they wore a black bow tie, made out of two triangles whose top angle was pointing to the other. Their hand was pointing to the sky, blue fire all around their hand.

The sky had both the sun and the moon in its picture.

Their joined hands were marked with purple fire.

Although it was extremely bizarre to find such a strange picture in a cave that hadn't been touched in decades, maybe even centuries, Stanford's face burst into a huge smile. He reached into his coat to fetch his journal and pen, flipping to a free page. He scribbled a copy of the intriguing, and down-right terrifying, painting into the paper.

I stumbled into some false cavern on the side of Meteor Ridge. It's incredible! These drawings depict two triangles that are dressed in garments, not of ancient times. A bow tie and a hat, that's what they're wearing. They also have one eye, something found on the symbol of the dollar, the Eye of Prosperity.

The people are kneeling before a pharaoh that is pointing to the triangles. Their faces are of complete terror.

I want to know what compelled them to be so scared. Also, why are they offering their hands to the triangles? What do the sun and moon in the background mean? It could be symbolizing an eclipse. Why is the red triangle pointing to the ground? Is it blessing the crops and river?

The second artwork was made by some Native American tribe. Just like the other artwork, the two triangles were present as the centerpiece of the artwork.

The red triangle with the top hat was holding hands with the blue triangle with the bowtie, their bond ignited with the same purple fire. The red triangle pointed to the ground and it was on fire! The grass of the painting was set ablaze with the same orange fire that the triangle held in its grasp.

The blue triangle was pointing to the sky again. This time, the sky was red and blue. Unlike the last painting, the sun and moon were in the triangle's grasp. They were holding miniature versions of the sun and moon in their fingers, almost caging it.

All around them were people, on their knees and bowing. Ford could tell that they were from all ages, from children to the elderly. Their offerings were nothing, despite their hands being raised to these beings.

There's another, made by what seems to be the Native American tribe, the Modoc People. 

It's strange. Triangles? With a bow tie and top hat? With flaming hands?

I wonder what compelled them to draw it. This seems like a terrible event.

There was a third artwork. It looked like it was from the Aztecs.

There was what seemed like a human sacrifice going on in the painting. It was intended to pay back the debt that was formed when the gods let blood from themselves to create the world, in the views of the Aztecs. If they didn't sustain the sun with blood, the world would come to an end. On a table, a man was being held down by four other men. An Aztec priest, clasped in golden robes, had a hand in the other man's chest and was holding up his heart up to the sky.

What was in the sky? The triangles.

The red triangle with the top hat held the sun in its hands. It was extending the sun to the mortals below it.

The blue triangle was holding the moon in its hand and was raising it, instead of offering it to the humans.

People were bowing, offering up their hands to these triangular beings.

There's another. I theorize it was made by the Aztecs. But, it brings thousands of questions to my head. I wonder why an Aztec artwork here in Oregon.

There are so many questions running through my head. Why do they hold the sun and moon in their hands? 

The people value these beings so much that they're willing to sacrifice others for them. But, the people are offering their hands. For beings so powerful, what could they want with nothing?

The fourth and last work was the most recent one. It was a black and white drawing on paper and nailed into the cave walls.

Immediately, Stanford recognized the back of the person's head, or rather, their wig and hat. It was George Washington! The first president of the United States was facing away in terms of the artwork perspective. He was clasped in the famous blue uniform he was depicted in during the Revolutionary War. The blue wool coat with gold epaulets, a buff-colored collar and cuffs, and a matching waistcoat and breeches.

In front of him were the triangles. 

The one with the top hat was purely black, its details and fire left to be discerned by the now yellowish color of the old parchment. But, they weren't holding the sun or anything in their hand.

The one with the bow tie was white with ink-black details and fire. Also like their counterpart, they had nothing in their hands.

It seemed like they were extending their hands to Washington.

Now, this is the strangest! I've heard of many conspiracies, but never with these two triangle beings. They're present in so much history. From the ancient Egyptian times to the beginning of the Revolutionary war, how interesting!

It looks like they want to shake hands with President Washington.

It's as if they're making some sort of business deal or agreement.

Under the drawing of the triangles with George Washington was text. It was carved into the very walls of the cave.

Stanford leaned closer, readjusting his glasses to read it.

Tnemit oluco onu saitseb, ireif muleac arret te tidac sativrag muc!

Eaem iatnulov otcejbus, nomead!

Ocov siiuqiler ed!

Oednops singi te siniugnas mutcap!

Oednops singi te siniugnas mutcap!

Oednops singi te siniugnas mutcap!

Stanford's eyebrows raised. He didn't recognize the language at all! It wasn't Greek or Latin, but he knew they were the alphabet he knew. He recognized the letters, but that was about it. Ford wanted to figure it out, so he started to recite it. He tripped over the strange words, butchering the pronunciation. It didn't even sound what he felt like it was intended to sound like, but rather a baby babbling.

Even after reciting it, he had no idea what language it was.

But, it was an incantation nonetheless. Ford expected something to happen, maybe even a part of him hoped something would. Maybe his flashlight would go out or something would reveal itself to him.

But, aside from a shiver going up from the base of his spine to the back of his head, there was nothing.

He frowned. He had fell into this cave to discover these strange paintings only for him to find out that all of this was for nothing?

How disappointing.

Stanford sighed and he turned back, head slightly bowed as he went back up the slope he rolled down.

If one was counting, it had been two trillion, three million, one-hundred eighty thousand, nine hundred and seventy years, three months, two weeks, and four days since the Euclydia Massacre - as it was known after the Second Dimension's destruction made its way to the history texts - and since the death of Euclid and Scalene's Billy.

For all those years, their grief had not wavered. Billy was their only child and would be their only child forever. His birth had been nothing short of a miracle. His birth defect had nearly killed him - children born like Euclid and Scalene weren't known to survive and live as long as Billy had. But, thank the Axolotl, he had survived. To further rub salt into the wound, Scalene couldn't have any more children, even if she wanted them. Another pregnancy was a risk to her and the child if she even attempted to have another one.

Believe me, they had done their best to get over it, to move on, and to accept that their son was dead. But, no matter how much grief counseling or therapy they forced themselves to go through, they couldn't let go.

It was like they didn't want to let go.

Their grief had been the fuel for their power. While it wasn't anger or pride that burned the flames in their hands and hearts, grief was just as strong as - maybe even stronger than - any other emotion.

It was how Euclid and Scalene became known as the Ciphers: dream demons that could grant someone's wishes, no matter how terrible they were. All you had to do was shake their hands and seal the deal.

Usually, lifeforms with the power they had would change their appearance in the blink of an eye - or eyes. But, the Ciphers were too above that, as they say, to worry about their appearance. No matter what form they chose to take, they'd still be able to and always will be able to be feared by their allies and enemies alike.

Right now, they were somewhere in some hoity-toity universe, sipping on eyeball martinis in some penthouse. They had been summoned by some terrible being the servants referred to as the Master of the Penthouse, a terrible being with a million eyes that showed one their most terrible nightmare. For some reason, his gaze didn't affect either Euclid or Scalene, much to his confusion.

"Now," The Master of the Penthouse, who was a terrible being with a million eyes that showed one of their most terrible nightmares, said. "We shall discuss the terms of our agreement."

"Of course,                              ." Scalene said, emptying the rest of her eyeball martini. "What do you wish for?"

                              leaned back in his chair with a satifisfied smirk. "I want the code to the Intergalactic bank that holds the purest and most valuable jewel."

"Ah, the Intergalactic bank," Euclid muttered, stirring his martini.

"Have you been there, Euclid?"                               asked.

"Of course, Scalene and I have been there a few times. The last time we went was, er..." Euclid looked to his wife, and if he had an eyebrow, it would've been furrowed.

"I think the last time we went was, uh, six thousand...five thousand..."

"No, I think it was eight thousand."

"It was?"

"Remember? That weird guy with that hand that was crawling with maggots? Weird teeth? High-pitched voice? That guy was manning the front desk, or whatever they call it."

"Oh!"

"Yeah, so eight thousand," Euclid looked back at                              . "Eight thousand years ago."

"What are your terms, Mr. and Mrs. Cipher?"

Euclid and Scalene looked at one another. 

"We can discuss our terms later." They said in unison.

Scalene and Euclid joined hands, which erupted in purple fire. Their free hands was set ablaze with their respective colors, which extended to                              . "It's a deal!"

The intergalactic rubbed his hands together, gazing at the flickering flames that lit up the meeting room. He went to take the hand, but before their deal could be forged, there was a deafening roar. Around the red and blue triangle was a ring of yellow fire. It trapped them with its volcanic bond, sealing the powerful beings in. The intergalactic jumped back with a gasp, hoping not to be scorned by the flames.

There was a blinding burst of light that spread throughout the room. All the windows were shattered. The martini glasses had been dropped and shattered on the ground, the leftover liquid having spilled from them.

Euclid and Scalene were gone.

All that was left were their black outlines that had been burned into the chairs they once sat.

Chapter Text

There was never a time when Ford went to bed before the 24-hour clock struck 00:00. His research and exploration kept him questioning. Questioning kept him awake. Tonight's questioning was a tad bit worse than usual. Ford kept pondering about the one-eyed beasts of the cave and their divine and mysterious depictions. The one-eyed beasts were engraved in his mind. It was like they were in his mind. He could still vividly remember what they looked like, even with his eyes closed. Two triangles, one with a bow tie and the other with a tall hat, and both of them sported only one eye.

Ford couldn't wrap his head around it. There was nothing about the beasts in any myth or history books, even though it seemed like the triangles were engraved into the culture. The Egyptians, Aztecs, and Native Americans viewed them as great and terrible beings that held great power to either bring prosperity to their worshippers or the unspeakable horrors to those who had angered them. The triangles should've been remembered, someone must've done a paper on them. This was a huge discovery about the ancient world, yet there was nothing.

Beings so powerful that they held the sun and moon in their hands should've been remembered. They should've been in a glass case in a museum, not in some cave in the middle of sleepy Oregon's nowhere. Ford doubted they truly held the sun and moon, but he did believe that there was some kind of symbolization from it. The sun was Ra, one of the most important gods of Ancient Egypt and considered as the all-powerful. The moon was Khonsu, the replacement of Ra that would come when the sky fell dark - when night came. To hold the sun meant to hold Ra, that meant having power over him. To hold the moon was to hold dominion over Khonsu, equally as impressive as holding "Ra." To be considered more powerful than the Sun God during the era of pharaohs and pyramids wasn't even heard of.

The Aztecs revered them enough to bring their kind to an altar to be sacrificed. Human sacrifice was seen as the greatest honor to be bestowed on someone and a necessity. To give your heart for your belief was a straight ticket in the Sun God's army of warriors that was constantly at war with the forces of darkness. It was an honor, rather than something straight out of a nightmare, to give your heart to a god. It was survival, as the sun god, Huitzilopochtli, was constantly fighting against the darkness. If the darkness were to win, the world would end. Supplying the god with human blood and hearts kept the sun moving and kept humanity living. It was godly sacrifices that created the world. It was human sacrifices that maintained it. Believe it or not,  the graphic depiction of ripping someone's still-beating heart from their chest and holding it up to the sky meant that the One-Eyed Triangles were loved.

However, there was a more sinister side. The Native Americans knew it very well, as they had depicted them as angry and malevolent beings. Their power, although also revered and maybe worshipped, was feared. The moon to some tribes was the watchful eye that marked the passage of time. In simpler terms, it was a clock. That's where the lunar calendar came from. To hold the moon to the Native Americans meant having power over time itself. Some Native cultures saw time as a continuous loop, a circle, with the past, present, and future intertwined. When one held time, it meant having power over that loop. Like the Ancient Egyptians, the sun was the most powerful deity in creation from the perspectives of some Native cultures. In theory, to hold the sun meant to hold creation. Life, death, the gray area in between where viruses lay, it all belonged to the one that held the sun.

While Ford could decipher what the other three paintings could mean and make theories, he couldn't figure out the most recent depiction. It should've been kept somewhere else other than a cave, probably in a cabinet in the Pentagon or wherever America's secrets were kept. Who knows what would happen if someone found that painting? The conspiracy theories that had already been created wouldn't match the theories that would've sparked from that sketch of George Washington with the two triangles. There were very few clues to pick up on. There were their hands, which were extended to one another. It probably meant some sort of agreement or business deal. But, what could the fire of their hands mean? Was it real fire? Or, what is some type of metaphor?

What could any of this mean? Did it mean anything at all?

So many questions, but there were so few answers. 

Ford's desk was a mess. Every nook and cranny of old wood was covered with something, whether it be books or texts. There were books upon paper and paper upon books. It was a complete and utter mess, totally unlike Ford. He usually would be organized. Ford could even be considered overly organized, as he would correct anything that just looked out of place or not at the right angle. His pencil holder had spilled three hours ago after he had clumsily knocked it down. But, Ford couldn't bring himself to care about it at the moment. His stapler had run out of staples, so Ford had to resort to paper-clipping what little he could find together for documentation. He would get the box of staples, but that would mean having to peel himself away from his very important research to just get a box of staples.

Fiddleford had been roped into this, as usual. He was at his desk, which didn't look any better than Ford's. It had been hours since his lab partner returned and now he's rambling about triangles, ancient history, and beasts with one eye. Ford was a strange fellow, but so was Fiddleford. That's why they made such good friends. But, gosh, this was beyond Ford. It was almost like he was going to die if he didn't find out the message behind the paintings. At this point, Fiddleford was convinced he was, that if he didn't find out what the triangles meant he would drop dead on the spot from a heart attack.

"Did you find anything?" Ford asked for the hundredth time, not even looking up from the page he was reading.

Fiddleford had his hand in his hair, trying to stop his headache from progressing into a full-on migraine. 

"The answer hasn't changed in the past five hours. No." The other man replied, closing the Book of Ancient Egyptian Myths. "Are you sure it's not some art that some weirdo put up for some sick joke?"

Ford looked up, bewildered and almost offended that Fiddleford would even think that his discovery was just some hoax. "These artworks are old, Fiddleford. Very old. They showed age that would've aligned with the Egyptian Times, with the Aztec Empire, and the Revolutionary War."

"Well, some artists are weird and like to draw strange things," Fiddleford sighed, trying to reason and calm his friend down.

When the clock struck 01:00, Fiddleford closed his book. "I'm going to bed. Night, Ford."

Ford didn't look up and didn't say anything.

A mindscape, scientifically, was a metaphysical landscape of one's mind. Euclid and Scalene have been in countless mindscapes. Some were so terrifying that it gave them the heeby-jeebies. Surprising, considering everything that they've seen and done. Some were comforting and sickly, filled with memories of family and friends and anything else their client held dear. Some of their clients had such a messy mind that it was hard to find anything there! Scalene hated those kinds of landscapes. Before she and her husband would leave the mind, she would arrange it just enough for there to be some ounce of organization. 

However, this mind was a unique one. The memories were even organized in the Dewey Decimal System! They were arranged in seamless and organized rows of twenty. The doors were metal with nuts and bolts, something straight out of some science fiction movie. All of them were marked with the same thing, a golden six-fingered hand. The doorknobs were polished so much that Euclid and Scalene could see their distorted and widened reflections as they floated by.

"It's so..." Euclid started, but trailed off and couldn't finish his sentence.

"Organized!" Scalene said for him.

The blue triangle floated to the first door and opened it. Inside was a memory of two boys on wooden swings held by ropes, watching the ocean with their backs facing the triangles. One of them was wearing a shirt with red and white stripes, blue jeans, and beat-up black sneakers. The other wore a dark brown jacket with lighter brown fur lining the collar, a white t-shirt, dark green pants, and new brown shoes. Neither of them were speaking. The only sounds were from the rusty swings rocking back and forth and the waves crashing into the shore softly. They could smell the salty sea, pollution, and a bit of nuclear waste.

"How sweet! We're probably in the mind of someone who clearly cares for and loves their family! I'm sure they wouldn't be the type to abandon the person who has defended them all their life and sacrificed so much for them!" Scalene said, the door closing shortly after.

Euclid moved to the door across from it and opened it. The other memory was of that same boy with the dark brown jacket. He was wearing glasses, dark blue slacks, black leather shoes, and a white-collared long-sleeve with a pristine black bow tie. He was at one of the two ends of the chessboard. His pieces were organized into a clean Dutch Defense. The scene cut to Glasses sitting among five other boys. Then, a blonde woman, who seemed bored out of her mind, walked onto a stage. She stood behind a microphone and held up a white index card to her face.

"The winner of the Annual Glass Shard Beach Chess Competition is..." The woman paused to sigh and roll her eyes. "Barry Maple."

"Yes! Yes!" A boy with horrible acne stood up and exclaimed as the crowd began to clap and cheer. "In your face, Pines!"

The boy with the glasses looked down, defeated and sad. The door closed with a slow shut. 

"Oh, but that was a perfect Dutch Defense!" Euclid said, crossing his arms. "Honey, does Pines ring a bell?"

"Pines? Pines, Pines, Pines." Scalene tapped her bow tie with her finger. If she had a chin, she probably would be tapping it. "...No, honey, it doesn't ring a bell."

As if on cue, there was a glowing white light. It started off as some blob without any defined shape. But, then it morphed into what resembled a thing with four limbs. Then, the light grew brighter to the point where it was blinding. Euclid and Scalene closed their eyes and looked away. When it was gone, it left their vision spotted. They rubbed the green and red silly shapes from their gaze and looked to see what appeared.

The four limbs had two arms and two legs. Looking around and dusting his clothes was a young man. He had a chiseled square jaw with dark brown hair and eyebrows. He wore boxed glasses that had a black frame with a light golden line to compliment it. The kid had a light blue long-sleeve that was neatly tucked into his black trousers with the collar popping out of a dark brown vest. He was sitting, clearly confused.

"Where am I?"

Euclid and Scalene looked at one another.

"You don't know your own mind, kid?" Euclid asked, floating closer to the human. "We're in your mindscape!"

"I have to say, it is very organized," Scalene complimented, making the human jump as she popped behind him. "Gold star for you!" Scalene snapped her fingers and gave him a small ball of light that burned a bright star. "Red star, actually. It's Barnard's Star, some star in Ophiuchus. I keep forgetting that some stars aren't really gold."

"Ah!" The man exclaimed, dropping the star due to its unfathomable heat. As it met the ground, it shattered and split into a thousand sparks.

"What? Not a fan of dwarf stars?" Euclid asked. "Ha-ha! How about a game of interdimensional chess?"

Euclid snapped his fingers and the mindscape shifted. The neat rows of organized doors disappeared, and in its place was an endless void of stars. It wasn't like the pitch night sky that the Ciphers had grown to despise, but rather a purple-wash background with twinkling stars. It still clearly was the young man's mindscape, as floating around them were books. Dostoevsky's Notes from the Underground drifted by, followed by Oscar Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray. There was an hourglass, where the sand was freely spilling from the top level to the bottom.

Euclid and Scalene were at one end of a glowing blue chessboard, while the young man was at the other. The pieces, red in place of black and blue in place of white, were floating around them. The young man gasped when he saw the pieces were alive!

The pawns were knights with swords and simple shields with their respective crests of the Royals that they fought for.

The Knight was clasped in beautiful armor. He rode by with a raised hand holding a club, the horse he was mounted on neighing softly.

The Rook was a tower still, but in the tower was a party of five knights with crossbows.

The Bishops were not in metal armor, but fabric robes. They held a staff in one hand while the other held up a hand.

The Queen was a regal figure, with chain mail flaring into a dress and metal armor in place of lace frills. On her right was the shield that bore the insignia of the King she sought to protect. Her fingers were intertwined, the fingers sticking up and propping up a sword. She stood unmoving.

The King was like his queen, still and unmoving, but he had armor pants with his sword on his left. His intertwined fingers were flat on his sword.

"I've seen your memories, kid," Euclid said. "I saw one of your chess games, you should've won!"

"I know right? That was a perfect Dutch Defense!" He said to the beings, he stared back at him. But, when he replayed it in his genius mind, he raised an eyebrow. "Wait, how do you know about that?"

"That rows of doors is your mindscape. In simpler terms, it's your mind." Scalene said. "How about some tea, hmm? To relax. You look like you really need to."

Scalene snapped her fingers and there were glowing blue tea cups around them. All of them had an eye on them, which glowered at the young man across from them. Popping into existence was a blue teapot with that same one-eye, which winked at the human. He watched as the blue teapot tipped and gave him a share of piping hot tea. 

"Incredible..."

"Your kind made it, it's called Ceylon. Probably the only things that you humans did right!" Euclid slapped his knee and Scalene nudged him with her elbow, but it wasn't without a fond look on her face. "Ha-ha-ha! I'm kidding, I'm kidding, take a joke, kid. Pines, right?"

"Uh, Stanford Pines. Mostly everyone calls me Ford. You two are...the triangles from the cave. The 'beasts with one eye.'"

"Oh, so that's how you summoned us," Euclid said, taking one of the filled tea cups. "Humans are getting more and more creative."

Scalene had been observing the conversation, but something about Ford caught her eye. It wasn't the disheveled look that he sported, the glasses on his face, or even the fact that he had summoned them. It was the hand that was holding the tea cup. She floated over, taking the hand that wasn't holding anything. She held it in her hand.

"What are you doing?" Ford questioned.

"One...two...three...four...five...six fingers!" Scalene said. "You have six fingers!"

Ford looked at the blue triangle then at his hand. "Yeah, I do..." He muttered, taking his hand away from hers. He seemed sheepish, putting them into his pockets.

"Would you look at that? We aren't the only abominations." Euclid stirred his tea around. "No need to hide them anymore, kid. If we had to hide our abominations, we'd be blind. Ha-ha!" Euclid pointed to his eye. "So, why'd you summon us? Do you want revenge? Revenge for all those times that those people doubted and ridiculed you for something you were born with and that wasn't in your control. All those times they shoved you off the playground and called you a monster. All those times your parents wanted to hide you away in an asylum because of all the shame you brought upon your family."

Euclid didn't know it, but he had been squeezing the teacup so hard that it had begun to splinter. The eye on it had been blown wide, looking around in all directions for some help.

"Euclid."

"All those times they called you horrible names."

"Euclid."

"All those times they made you know that you were different."

"Euclid, your cup."

The blue triangle paused and looked down at his cup. "Oh, silly me!" His tone had changed from stern to happy once more. He fixed the tea cup with a snap of his fingers, letting it go and float away frantically. "Sorry, I get passionate sometimes. I know you understand. Anyway, enough about us, what's the reason you summoned us?"

"Oh, I saw the paintings in a cave. And, I read the text."

"...That's it?" Scalene questioned, her eye narrowing.

"Yeah. I was trying to find answers to it. I...How did you...Why were there so many paintings of four different cultures and timelines? Why did you look so angry in some of them? What are you?"

Euclid and Scalene looked at one another, then at Ford.

"Well, dear," Scalene started. "We had come to this dimension many times during the Past. We're beings from dimensions that will never cross your own, unless we want them to. We had shown ourselves to the Egyptians first. In exchange for their help in building a passion project of ours, we allowed their crops to flourish, we kept their children healthy, and we gave them instructions on how to build the pyramids. We gave them six hundred years to finish it, but it looked they had grown lazy from all of those free pickings, they had forgotten about it."

"Passion project?" Ford asked.

"Yes, kid, we wanted..." Euclid paused. "...Their expertise and skills. They couldn't even give us that."

"What were you doing in the painting? Holding the sun and the moon?"

"We cast a great darkness over their land, to put it...lightly," Scalene replied. "We killed their crops. We brought plagues to them. It wasn't the brightest time, but they had broken their end of the bargain. It broke our hearts to do that to them, but you humans had to learn."

"Oh..." Ford digested the words before looking up again. "The Aztecs? What about them?"

"Oh, yes, the Aztecs!" Euclid said, his voice happy from the memory of them. "They were a passionate bunch. They, like the Egyptians, believed we were gods, and treated us as such. We promised them the same thing, safety and prosperity in exchange for their skills. This time, they weren't lazy. We have them the same amount of time - six hundred years. They were nearly completed in four hundred. The Aztecs were so close to completing it, but then those damn conquistadors came along and ruined everything. They brought their armies and their disease to the people and ruined all our progress. I think you're going to ask about the Native Americans, hmmm?"

Ford nodded.

"Hmmm."

"It's a sensitive topic for Euclid, Ford," Scalene said gently. "Well, the Native Americans were given the same deal. Six hundred years of their passions and resources, in exchange for our gifts. We gave them it. Yet, they had grown used to our gifts, just as the Egyptians did. They wanted to capture us, to make our power bend. Of course, if someone wanted to put you into a cage and use you for your own benefit, you would be very betrayed and angry. Even then, we wanted to protect them. But, we were unsuccessful. Something came and destroyed them."

"Something? What was it?"

There was a pause. 

"A monster, Ford."

Chapter Text

Never in his years of living would Ford think that he would be in the presence of, let alone speaking to, two divine beings of unimaginable power. Now, he was, and playing a game of ‘interdimensional chess’ with pieces that moved as if they were alive. To his surprise, he was winning. He watched as the red triangle he knew as Euclid had his rook sliced in half by Ford’s pawn. The rook fell with its party of knights falling into the void and evaporating into nothing. Ford wasn’t sure if he was winning because he was simply better at chess.

Or, if Euclid was going easy on him.

Euclid crossed his arms, clearly displeased. His Queen moved two spots diagonally to defend the King.

Ford’s bishop moved to the Queen’s spot and cut her down.

“Ah, would you look at that? Ford has you checked.” Scalene said. Her eye closed and formed a mouth. She raised her cup to her eye-mouth and it sipped the liquid as if it were a regular mouth.

She watched as Ford’s Queen moved in front of Euclid’s King and pointed her sword at him.

“Well, I never was good at chess,” Euclid chuckled, watching as his king was cut down by the opposing queen and disappeared into nothingness. He looked up at Ford. He didn’t look angry or upset. Rather, he looked proud. “You’re smart, kid. Not everyone gets to beat me in a game of chess. Someone like you must’ve gone somewhere prestigious. Say, uh, West Coast Tech. I heard that it was one of the most prestigious universities in the American West.”

Ford looked up at the mention of his dream school. Or, past dream school. Wanting to go to West Coast Tech seemed like a lifetime ago. The college had built a reputation of being considered the best technical school in the country. Students were able and encouraged to turn science fiction into science facts. Ford distinctly remembered when his high school principal called him and his brother to his office. He was sure they called both of them, as they couldn’t tell the difference between him and Stanley.

It was all due to his perpetual machine, a mechanism that was meant to keep spinning and spinning. It was meant to just win his school science fair. It looked like he was going to win more at that moment.

Ford wanted to become a world-changing scientist, the next trailblazer in the scientific world. His mother, Caryn, wanted him to, purely out of love. His father, while encouraging, only wanted to do it because it would’ve made him rich.

If Stan hadn’t messed with anything, he could’ve, in his father’s words, “made millions.”

“No,” Ford said quietly, as the chess pieces were brought back and went to their starting positions. “I went to Backupsmore.”

Ford was suddenly an acne-ridden high schooler uncovering his perpetual motion machine in front of a bunch of West Coast Tech scouts, who had made a torturous drive to Glass Shard Beach. He will never forget the sight of his machine, unmoving and still. He will also never forget how they frowned, saying that he had wasted their time. The worst of it was seeing them drag a red pen across their list of names to cross his name out.

“That old washed-up school?!” Euclid said bewildered. So bewildered, that his top hat had flown off and was starting to drift away. He managed to catch it and secure it back on his head, clearing his throat. “Why there?”

“My brother ruined my chances,” Ford muttered. Even the mention of Stanley left a bitter taste in his mouth. “All because he wanted to sail around the world on a boat. I couldn’t believe he would do such a thing. He knew how hard I worked on that machine.”

Ford was given the chance to succeed. He was given the chance to be the next name in the Science Hall of Fame. He would’ve found a place among the Marie Curies and Albert Einsteins of the world, no longer ridiculed by all those dunces. He expected Stan to support him because his twin always did. For Stan to go to such a dramatic length to make him stay in New Jersey forever was - there was no better word for it - selfish. Ford also never expected it to be so obvious. He wanted to defend his brother and think it was an accident on his own part or it was someone else’s fault, but all of the signs pointed to Stanley.

He had a motive, too.

Stan was so upset that Ford would leave and go to West Coast Tech, so he messed with the machine. His bag of empty Toffee Peanuts, which was his favorite snack, was found at the scene of the crime. It wasn’t even the fact he wouldn’t go to his dream school that hurt the most. It was his brother, who he trusted more than anyone in New Jersey, maybe even the whole WORLD to stab him in the back. It hurt more than any jeer, name, or punch Ford had been given.

“I can’t believe that either,” Scalene scoffed, putting her hands on her sides, which might as well be her hips. “Ruining your brother’s chances of getting into his dream school. Then, having the gall to ask you to travel around the world with him as if you didn’t just ruin his whole future. Your twin sounds like a real piece of work.”

“He is. He really is.”

Ford didn’t know what had spurred him to talk about Stanley like that. He knew Stanley needed him. In a way, Ford needed him as well. His twin was his best and only friend in elementary, middle, and high school. Stan was never jealous, resentful, or spiteful that he was the smarter twin. For eighteen years, Stan grounded Ford. He might as well have been his biggest supporter aside from their mother.

Ford knew Stanley needed him.

But, the world needed him more. It was a waste for someone as genius as him to be out on a boat in the middle of nowhere, living off fish, and wondering when the next pitstop. With his brain, he could be doing something useful, like finding out what was out there and finding answers to questions that had been marked as unsolved for far too long.

“Enough of that talk,” Scalene said, tossing her empty tea cup over what would be her shoulder. She looked back at Ford. “We’re here to talk about you, Ford, not Stanley. I assume you’re in Gravity Falls. How else would you stumble across our paintings?”

“Why?” Euclid questioned.

“I noticed there was a pattern. Almost eighty percent of anomalies happened here. I’m trying to figure out why and I figured out a few things. But, I can’t seem to find anything anymore. It’s like I’ve discovered everything! But, I know that’s not true.”

“It’s the anomaly capital of the world!” Euclid exclaimed happiness evident in his voice as his arm extended cartoonishly to pat Ford on the shoulder.

It was a strange feeling, having a god of chaos that Ford barely knew act like he was his family or something. But, Ford couldn’t deny that it felt almost comforting. Almost.

“And, you’re right, Ford,” Euclid kept his hand there for a moment before pulling it back. “You haven’t discovered everything. I’m sure you barely scraped the tip of the iceberg. Scalene and I have visited Gravity Falls countless times. We can help you, kid.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Ford,” Scalene said, blinking her eye in confirmation. “We are what people consider ‘muses,’ a source of inspiration for the hand that draws, the mouth that speaks, and the eye that seeks.” She chuckled at her poetic telling and rhyming.

“Our purpose is to inspire minds to explore existence. In this world and so many others. We’ve tried with the Egyptians, the Aztecs, the Natives, and even the Founding Fathers. But, none of them cut close to what we wanted.” Euclid sighed, eye closing. But, then it opened. He spoke in a quieter tone. “But, you’re different, kid. I’ll tell you this, Ford, you’re special. Very special.”

There were two definitions of  ‘special’ for Ford.

On one hand, being special was the bane of his existence. His youth was plagued by the frequent pickings and teasings of the bullies of Glass Shard Beach. He didn’t need anyone to remind him that he wasn’t like everyone else.

However, his other definition was that he was special because it was always in his cards. His mother always claimed to know from her tarot decks. Ford always knew they were bologna. His father, although Ford hated him with a passion, had a knack for seeing the potential in one of his sons.

That was probably the only thing Filbrick Pines ever got right in his life, that Ford was destined for greatness.

He could tell that Euclid and Scalene had the same knack his deadbeat father had, seeing what he could do and become.

“Special?” Ford repeated with a slight smile on his face and pride beating in his chest.

“Of course, Ford,” Scalene agreed, gaze soft as she regarded someone. “You don’t meet someone who has six fingers, I’ll tell you that. But, it also isn’t every day that someone enters a doctoral program three years ahead of schedule. It isn't every day that someone can build a research lab in the forest. It certainly isn’t every day to find someone so dedicated to exploring the paranormal. With your smarts, Ford, and our resources, well, I think you’ll get far in life. No, you’ll get farther than far!”

There was a pause.

“But, we can’t do this for free, Ford,” Euclid said, tone suddenly serious. “Our bargains are never one-sided. We want something as well.”

“R-Really? Uh, what do you want?”

Euclid looked at Scalene. Scalene looked at Euclid.

The blue triangle folded her hands. “We mentioned a passion project earlier. Well, Ford, that project was a portal.” Both of them could see the questions running through his head - they were in it.

“A portal?”

“That’s what I said. This portal’s goal was to elevate mankind’s knowledge. We would bring humanity wisdom that went beyond the borders of your dimension. We would introduce a Golden Age, but all of our tries have failed.”

“Some of our partners have ended up as lazy or simply too dull to comprehend the tasks that were laid out in front of them,” Euclid said, making a movement that looked like he was shaking his head in disappointment. If he had one. “But, you know what all of them had? Cowardice. Too cowardly to see it through. However, it’s a new age!” He raised his arms up. “We have you now! Think about it, kid.”

Euclid snapped his fingers and constellations appeared, glowing beautifully among the darkened purple. Ford recognized some of them. Ursa Major. Ursa Minor. The Big Dipper. The Little Dipper. So many others were up there, most he didn’t even know.

 “All of the knowledge and power at your six fingertips! Why just know about the secrets of Gravity Falls when you can know about everything? Every question answered! Every mystery solved! No stone will be left unturned!”

Ford looked back at where Euclid and Scalene used to be, but they were nowhere to be seen. However, that’s when he felt a hand on each of his shoulders. He was spun as if he was a swivel on a chair. 

“I think what you’re dying to know is how you can achieve all of this,” Scalene chuckled.

“Um, I, uh…”

“Look at him, he’s so excited he can’t speak!” Euclid said fondly, pinching Ford’s cheek gently. “Ha-ha! Well, I’ll tell you, kid. You just have to agree to our terms and we’ll agree to yours.”

Ford had to be dumb as a rock to deny a deal like this. He knew it was dangerous, these were two beings that were so powerful that they could lay siege to anything and anyone they wanted. But, they promised him support and unlimited knowledge. Plus, Ford couldn’t deny it, having two chaos gods to be so gentle with him or fond of him. It was as if he wasn’t a stranger to them. Instead, he was a family friend or someone junior to them with whom they had a deep connection.

Euclid respected him.

Scalene was kind to him.

“Deal. My terms are that you’re going to help me discover all the mysteries of Gravity Falls and help document them in my journals.”

“Of course, kid,” Euclid said. “Piece of cake.”

“What about your terms?”

“Well,” Scalene cleared her throat. “We want your help to build a portal so that we can successfully bring out a vision of a Golden Age to your mortal race. Don’t worry, we’ll assist you with the blueprints and material. All you need to do is listen to us and do whatever we tell you. There’s also another thing.”

Euclid and Scalene grew quiet.

“What? What is it?” Ford asked.

“We need permission to take control of your body. It’s called POSSESSION. Or else, communication would be very difficult, as we’d have to communicate through the dreamscape. Knowing you, we’ll barely get to see you because you sleep so little. Alright?”

Possession was such a dangerous thing. Ford had seen thousands of horror movies. Demons take control of other humans, their bodies are no longer their own, and forced to do terrible things. But, Euclid and Scalene didn’t seem like the people to do such a thing. To hurt him. They didn’t have any motive to. They didn’t hold any grudges.

“Y…You won’t hurt me or anything. Or, you won’t hurt anyone, right?”

“No, of course not. Unless you want us, too! Ha-Ha!” Scalene joked.

“Unless…” Euclid started.

“Unless?”

“No, it’s too much to ask of you in the beginning. Never mind it, Ford.”

“What? What is it?”

“You can construct our forms. We can possess those, so we won’t have to possess you all of the time. We’ll take care of all of it. All we want you to do is just…sit back. Relax. Don’t resist.”

Scalene and Euclid joined hands and from their united hands erupted in purple fire. Their free hands were set ablaze. Euclid’s inferno red was a harsh contrast to Scalene’s cool blue. They extended to Ford, who looked at the aura of purple, blue, and red. He took a deep breath before he extended his hands. He felt no heat from the flames, though he expected them to at least be warm. He gave his right to Euclid and his left to Scalene. They gripped his hands tightly, making him wince. The fire spread, slithering from their hands to his. Then, it spread to Ford’s arms, before it ignited his whole body.

As Euclid and Scalene’s grip loosened, the flames slowly burned out. There was not a bit of ash or a spot of soot on him or his clothes. It was as if the fire was never even there.

A yellow and aged paper manifested near Euclid’s right. In red ink was Ford’s signature. Euclid got it and rolled it up, nice and tight. He secured it with a yellow bow and waved it away.

“Don’t worry kid, we’ll take it from here.”

Euclid liked to call possession ‘body hijacking.’ It sounded more fun like that.

When possessing a body, Euclid and Scalene made it like an old-fashioned puppet. Ones with strings and cross braces, instead of those weird sock puppets. Euclid’s cross brace controlled the mouth, arms, and neck. Scalene usually controlled the legs, feet, and ankles. It was too cramped for them to fit inside, so this was their solution.

A wide and uncanny grin spread on Ford’s Face. His eyes opened. In place of his right pupil was a red triangle and replacing his left pupil was an upside-down blue triangle.

Euclid pulled on his cross brace and Ford’s body lurched up, before slumping back down. With a furrowed brow, the red triangle raised the brace again, harder and faster. His puppet lurched back so much that the chair fell back, taking Ford along with it. There was a loud thud, and both of them winced. They stayed still as statues.

Ford’s roommate could be awake.

“It’s been so long since we had a puppet. I’ve gotten rusty.” 

“It’s alright, Euclid,” Scalene said sweetly, patting him on his backside. “We’ll get used to it. On three. One, two, three!”

On the third count, they got him up. Scalene managed to get his legs stable before he could fall and trip on anything else.

“Alright, smart guy, where are the tools?”

Euclid steered him forward, making his hip bump into the counter and crash into the nearby wall. With shaky and stiff movements, they got him out of the office. But, not before bumping his shoulder against the doorframe. With heavy and stumbling footsteps, they moved through a hallway.

“Maybe here!” Scalene said, making Ford bank harshly to the left and into a half-open door.

Inside of that room was someone sleeping on the bed, with a banjo laid neatly against the footpost. The blankets covered him up, but they could see a few tufts of light brown hair. On the wooden nightstand, was a cup of coffee that had been reheated at least a thousand times but never drunk and some glasses, similar to Ford’s.

“Aw, he has a roommate! I wonder when Ford will be comfortable enough to introduce us.”

“Best not to disturb him,” Euclid said, as he reached over to grab the doorknob and close the door.

They went past the kitchen and managed to find Ford’s workshop. Man, was it messy. There were tools and papers and books scattered everywhere! How can someone as smart as Ford be so messy?! But, they didn’t mind it for now. They got him to the workbench and got to work.

The Egyptians had constructed a form for them in twelve days. It wasn’t that impressive, just some gold with intricate hieroglyphics and artwork. It was great, but they couldn’t move around at all.

The Aztecs, while their heart sacrifices were sentimental, had constructed a form that wasn’t great either. It was made out of wood and strung up by thin rope. Any rough movement and the strings would snap and Euclid and Salene would have to wait three days for another one.

The Native Americans had been the best form makers, but they couldn’t get another one once their forms broke.

Old George gave them something reminiscent of a marionette puppet, but it was small and barely did anything. At least it was easy to maneuver.

Euclid and Scalene learned that humans made great meatsuits. Not good listeners.