Gravity Falls has a way of turning "bad ideas" into "physical realities" faster than an insurance adjuster can file a claim. But when that "bad idea" involves a five-foot-tall wooden statue of Grunkle Stan and a "Possible" corporate credit card, the stakes move from "Low" to "Lightweight Financial Ruin."
"Sheila," I said, rubbing my temples as I stared at my PDA screen. "Tell me the 400 cases of 'Extra-Sticky Maple Taffy' currently being delivered to the Mystery Shack were a glitch in the ordering system."
["I have some news, Danny, and it's a 'Total Loss' on the budget,"] Sheila replied. ["The Stan-Statue in the gift shop—the one made of 'Enchanted Oak' and old chewing gum—has been 'Upgraded.' It appears Pips was trying to give the statue a 'Social-Media Presence' to boost Shack revenue, but the statue's latent 'Greed-Logic' took over. It is currently the highest-rated 'Influencer' on the local shopping app."]
"The statue is shopping?" Kim asked, leaning over my shoulder. "How does a wooden carving even use a touch-screen?"
"It doesn't," I sighed. "It uses Haptic-Vibrations. And it's already bought a jet-ski, a pallet of novelty fezzes, and something called a 'Automatic Beard-Glitterer.'"
"We have to shut it down!" Dipper Pines yelled, running in with Mabel. "If the Stan-Statue gains enough consumerist momentum, it'll become a Capitalist Golem! It'll start 'Acquiring' the local businesses by force!"
"Wait!" a new voice echoed from the porch of the Shack.
A boy stepped into the light. He was wearing a red shirt, blue jeans, and had a shock of white hair that looked like it had survived a series of small explosions. He was holding a camera in one hand and a walkie-talkie in the other. He looked like a kid who lived in a house with ten sisters and had developed the tactical reflexes of a commando.
"I've been tracking the delivery trucks!" the boy said, his eyes bright with professional curiosity. "They're all converging on the Shack. My name's Lincoln Loud. I'm here on a 'Sibling-Survival Exchange.' I heard the Possible Protocol needed someone who can handle 'High-Volume Chaos' in a small space."
"Lincoln Loud," I said, the "Campbell" memories clicking. "The 'Man with a Plan.' You're from Royal Woods. If you can survive ten sisters, you can survive a sentient wooden statue with a shopping addiction."
"I've got the 'Plan'!" Lincoln said, pulling out a whiteboard he'd seemingly hidden behind a pine tree. "If we distract the statue with a 'Limited-Time Flash-Sale' on the other side of the yard, we can use a localized 'EMP-Pulse' to sever its connection to the credit card!"
"I can provide the pulse!" Jenny said, her pigtails transforming into localized signal-jammers. "But I need someone to 'lure' the statue out of the shop. It's currently 'unboxing' a shipment of gold-plated walking canes."
"I'll do it!" Mabel cheered. "I'll dress up as a 'Mega-Discount' and dance in the driveway! Statues can't resist a bargain!"
The 'Consumerist Colossus' mission was a masterclass in 'Loud'-style planning and 'Possible' execution. Mabel, dressed in a sweater made of '90% OFF' stickers, lured the Stan-Statue out onto the porch. The statue, creaking with every wooden step, was holding a smartphone it had 'borrowed' from a tourist.
"Protocol, now!" I yelled.
Lincoln signaled the team. Ben used Grey Matter to intercept the Wi-Fi signal; Danny Fenton turned intangible to 'pull' the digital data out of the smartphone; and Jenny let out a soft, blue pulse of energy that neutralized the enchanted wood's "Shopping-Logic."
The Stan-Statue froze, mid-click. Its eyes (which were just painted-on buttons) went dull. The smartphone fell to the porch with a harmless clatter.
"Mystery... returned for a full refund!" Lincoln cheered, high-fiving Dipper.
I looked at the 'Low-Stakes' meter. 12%. The 'Capitalist Golem' was neutralized, the credit card was secured (after I canceled the jet-ski order), and we had a new recruit—Lincoln Loud—who had already started organizing the "Protocol's" summer-camp bunk assignments with military-grade efficiency.
But the romance sub-plots were currently 'Checking Out' in the summer heat as well.
Jenny walked up to me, her internal sensors hummed softly. "Danny? Lincoln says that 'Large Families' are built on 'Constant Communication and Mutual Sacrifice.' It sounds a lot like our 'Possible Protocol.' Does that mean we're a family? Or are we still in the 'Dating' sub-routine?"
I looked at her, the blue glow of the Oregon dusk reflecting in her cyan eyes. "I think we're both, Jenny. A family of anomalies who just happen to be 'Dating' at the end of the world."
Jenny's cooling fans whirred in a happy, rhythmic pulse. She leaned her metal head against my shoulder. "I like that. It's... statistically significant."
Meanwhile, Lincoln was talking to Kim about "Tactical Sister-Management." "You have two brothers, right? The 'Tweebs'? I have ten sisters. We should compare notes on 'Localized Warfare' sometime."
Kim laughed, patting the new recruit on the back. "I think you're going to fit in just fine, Lincoln."
I looked at the team: the Middleton crew, the Amity crew, the Retroville geniuses, the time-travelers, the New York dragon, the Recess leaders, the Mystery twins, and now the Loud strategist.
The "Possible Protocol" was becoming a universe unto itself.
["Danny,"] Sheila's voice rang in my ear. ["I've updated the roster. Lincoln Loud: Role: Tactical-Coordinator and 'Chaos-Control.' Also, Pips is currently 'Apologizing' by trying to return all the fezzes to the delivery truck. I suggest we keep the gold-plated cane... it looks good on you."]
"Low-stakes, Sheila. Low-stakes."