Gravity Rises (S1)

NW: Part Seven

Gideon sighed, as if he'd expected this reaction. "All right. If you're confident about it." He walked away again. "Contact me when I can come search for the Journal," he called over his shoulder.

How rude. Pacifica waited until he was gone before indulging herself: She made a frustrated noise and stomped her foot in the snow.

Partners indeed.

~~~~~

"Are you sure you don't have mind powers that can get us through this faster?" Dipper asked as he stepped awkwardly over a gigantic tree root.

"No," the Robconscious replied. "Not in memory like this."

"But," Mabel cut in as she side-stepped around a low branch, "isn't this whole area a mental projection in the first place? A metaphysical representation of your memories?"

"Yes," the Robconscious said, "and I do have some 'mind powers', as Dipper put it, but the four of us are also metaphysical representations. As long as I'm projecting a form like this, and as long as you're a foreign object in this mind, you have to follow the physical laws like you're used to."

Mabel frowned. That didn't make very much sense. "But that's not how dreams work."

"This isn't a dream. If you recall, you're invading my mind."

"Hey, Bill invaded your mind," Dipper said. "We just followed him."

The Robconscious sighed but didn't say anything. Mabel glanced over at Wendy, who was unnaturally quiet as she trudged through the tangled forest. The hole in her abdomen was still there, showing the area behind her.

The forest of memories was certainly a peculiar place. Huge trunks, as wide as cars, sprang up from gnarled roots that broke up the forest floor, making every step treacherous. Branches stuck out at every angle from any area on the trunk, but the biggest concentration was higher up: Every tree had huge canopies of branches that knotted together to create an eerie ceiling above. There were no leaves to be seen.

Though the trees and forest floor were all in greyscale, there were brightly colored patches of air that hung off branches, hovered over roots, or fastened themselves to the tree trunk. These, when one looked closer, were memories, and they were the leaves and foliage of the forest.

At first, Dipper and Mabel had stopped and gawked at every memory they had passed. They were bright and vivid, with sounds the twins could hear if they leaned in. The memories depicted a young Robbie running through the forest, playing with other kids, and making faces at a young Wendy. Before long, the Robconscious had given them an irritable look and told them to focus on the task at hand.

As they walked, the forest got less and less dense, and the Robbie in the memories got older and older. Mabel glanced at a memory that was draped over a branch, like a TV screen made of mercury. In it, Robbie was maybe twelve years old and was riding a skateboard.

"If you'll notice," the Robconscious said, "my memories have gotten a lot more orderly now that we're in my tween years."

"Yeah, they used to look like Salvador Dali clocks," Mabel said absently as she stepped over a tree root. Robbie and Wendy stared at her, and her face turned red. "Never mind," she mumbled.

Funny how walking quietly through an eerie forest for twenty minutes could diminish one's confidence.

The walk — although "walk" was a mild term for the constant ducking and side-stepping involved — went on for another five minutes or so in awkward silence. The sound of wind whistled through nonexistent leaves. It was unnatural, but it was background noise, and Mabel was used to it by now.