Summer in Gravity Falls wasn't just about the heat; it was about the hunger. Specifically, the ravenous, snack-driven hunger of a six-hundred-pound creature that was half-man, half-bull, and 100% committed to a low-carb diet—until he found our cooler.
"Sheila," I said, crouching by the empty patch of dirt where our "Possible Protocol" supply crate had been ten minutes ago. "Scan the foliage. I'm looking for cloven hoofprints and the scent of processed cheese and despair."
["Tracking initiated, Danny,"] Sheila replied. ["I'm detecting a heavy-tread trail leading toward the 'Deep Woods' caves. The culprit has an elevated protein-to-fiber ratio and is currently moving at a brisk trot. Also, Pips is currently 'interrogating' a squirrel for eye-witness testimony."]
"The Man-Taurs," Dipper Pines said, adjusted his hat as he looked at the footprints. "They're aggressive, they're obsessed with 'Manliness,' and they have a zero-tolerance policy for anyone who doesn't respect the 'Code of the Mountain.' They probably think our beef jerky is a tribute to their strength."
"Or they just like the flavor of Ron's 'Triple-Naco' dipping sauce," Kim noted, checking her grapple. "Either way, that cooler has the only supply of Jimmy's 'Brain-Boost' granola bars. We need it back."
"I can lead the way!" Mabel cheered, holding up a glitter-covered compass. "I've been practicing my 'Animal Diplomacy'! I'll just offer them some of my 'Sticker-Earrings' in exchange for the jerky!"
"Mabel, Man-Taurs don't do stickers," Dipper sighed. "They do feats of strength."
We followed the trail to a clearing dominated by a massive, muscular creature wearing a loincloth and a very small, very stolen 'Possible' baseball cap. He was currently trying to open our high-tech, biometric-locked cooler with his bare hands.
"Chutzpah!" the Man-Taur roared, flexing his biceps so hard they made a sound like a snapping rubber band. "Why does the tiny metal box defy the strength of Lead-Foot the Bold? I have crushed boulders! I have wrestled bears! I will not be defeated by a hinge!"
"Actually, it's a retinal-scanner," I said, stepping into the clearing with my arms crossed. "And unless you have the eyes of a 'Producer,' you're just going to give yourself a hernia."
Lead-Foot spun around, his horns lowering. "A challenger! A tiny, vest-wearing challenger! Do you come to reclaim your tribute, or do you come to witness my 'Superior Manliness'?"
"We just want our granola bars, Lead-Foot," I said. "Low-stakes. No wrestling required."
"NO WRESTLING?" Lead-Foot roared. "The Mountain demands a feat! If you want the box of 'Small-Human Energy,' you must defeat me in the Trial of the Iron-Grip!"
I looked at the 'Low-Stakes' meter. 12%. This was the perfect opportunity to test the "Protocol's" latest asset.
"Pips," I whispered. "Protocol: 'The Internal Friction'!"
Pips phased out of my pocket and dove into the cooler's internal locking mechanism. But he didn't unlock it. Instead, he 'Upgraded' the box's weight-distribution system. He used localized gravity-plates (which Jimmy and Barry had helped him 'digest' earlier) to make the cooler weigh approximately four tons.
"Okay, Lead-Foot," I said, stepping back. "The Trial is simple. If you can lift the box above your head, you keep the jerky. If you can't... you give it back and promise to help us carry our gear to the lake."
"HA! A TRIVIAL TASK!" Lead-Foot grabbed the handles and pulled.
His muscles bulged. His face turned a deep, violet-red. The ground beneath his hooves began to crack. But the cooler didn't move an inch. Pips was hummed inside, his green-and-white circuitry glowing as he held the gravity-lock.
"WHAT... IS... THIS... SORCERY?" Lead-Foot panted, finally collapsing onto the grass. "The box is... it is made of the heart of a dying star!"
"It's made of 'Possible' technology," I said, as Pips phased out and the cooler returned to its normal weight. I walked over and picked it up with one hand. "And it looks like the Mountain has spoken."
Lead-Foot looked at me with a new sense of awe. "The tiny vest-man has the strength of a thousand bulls. I... I accept my defeat. I shall be your 'Portage-Man-Taur' for the remainder of the sun-cycle."
"Mystery solved!" Mabel cheered, jumping onto Lead-Foot's back. "And look! He looks so cute in the tiny hat!"
I looked at the 'Low-Stakes' meter. 5%. The snacks were safe, we had a new (temporary) heavy-lifter, and the "Possible Protocol" had successfully avoided a brawl.
But the romance sub-plots were currently 'anchored' in the summer sun as well.
Jenny walked up to me, her eyes a soft, pulsing cyan. She looked at Lead-Foot, then at me. "Danny? My 'Social-Hierarchy' data says that 'Strength' is a key factor in human attraction. But I think I prefer your 'Logic-Grip' over his 'Bicep-Flex.' It's more... efficient."
"I'm glad to hear it, Jenny," I whispered, taking her hand. "Strength isn't just about muscles. It's about knowing which buttons to push."
Jenny's cooling fans whirred in a happy, rhythmic pulse.
Meanwhile, Dipper and Jazz were sitting on a nearby log, looking at a map of the "Gravity Falls Sub-Basement." "If we cross-reference the ecto-readings with the historical ley-lines," Dipper mused, "we might find the source of the 'Positive Probability' you mentioned."
"I'd love to," Jazz said, her shoulder brushing against his. "It's nice to have a research partner who doesn't try to 'punch' the data."
I looked at the team: the Middleton crew, the Amity crew, the Retroville geniuses, the time-travelers, the New York dragon, the Recess leaders, and the Mystery twins. We were a family of anomalies, and as the sun began to set over the Gravity Falls woods, I knew that the "Possible Protocol" was exactly where it needed to be.
["Danny,"] Sheila's voice rang in my ear. ["I've updated the dossier. New Entry: 'Interspecies Manual Labor.' Also, Pips has currently 'Upgraded' Lead-Foot's loincloth to include a localized GPS. I suggest we keep him on a short leash."]
"Low-stakes, Sheila. Low-stakes."