entranceway inbox

[mcgucket]

[text/voice/video/etc.]

"Howdy, you've reached the voicemail of Fiddleford McGucket! Unfortunately I can't stay and chat right now, but please leave a message and I'll be sure to get back to you quicker than a chicken on a junebug!

... Unless your name is Stanford Pines. In which case, "somethin's on fire right now" better not be the reason why you're callin' me."

Comments

backdated to the 26th!

[chocolatepudding]

[ Merry Christmas! Or late Christmas, because Dustin pretty much slept through it. After a rather jarringly loud fist-pounding knock on McGucket’s door, he’ll find a stocking left on the ground. If he's quick enough to answer he can probably recognize curls and a favourite hat turning the corner. The stocking is jammed full of things, including:

1. Air Heads (assorted flavours, but more watermelon because those are the best)
2. A small container with only banana flavoured runts
3. Gummy bears (sour and regular)
4. Bubble tape
5. Caramello
6. Nilla wafers
7. Chupa chups
8. Cow tales
9. Gummy cola
10. Nerds
11. Skittles
12. Sour patch kids
13. Fun Dip
14. Pop Rocks

And lastly, just for him:
15. Sweet potato pie. He asked the mansion to make it as close as possible to what he’s used to back home.

Propped up is a Christmas card, homemade with probably the worst handwriting known to man: 'Merry Christmas. -Dustin' ]

February 20th [Mirror writing]

[thegrayportrait]

[McGucket will return to his room to find that one of the Mirrors has kept to his word. A message has been left in what looks like blood on one of the mirrors.]

Hello, Dr. McGucket.

[Another message is added beneath that when McGucket notices the writing.]

You look unwell. Have you been able to sleep?

[mcgucket]

[... Note to self, cover the mirrors in this room at some point, he doesn't need them potentially seeing how it looks like the lodgings of an insane person the longer he stays here.

In the meantime, however, he forces himself to approach the mirror, giving the words a critical look before he responds.]

No, I haven't. [...] Is there something you need from me?

[Let's get to the point, what's your reason for wanting to talk to him.]

[thegrayportrait]

[Goodness, this place is a wreck. Dorian's Mirror wipes off the message and writes his reply.]

Yes. I wanted to see what you've accomplished as of late. Try to run from me, and I will haunt you until you agree.

I shall write a list of words on the glass, and I want you to tell me the first thoughts that come into your head. Be honest. If you can't think of anything, let me know.

Are you ready?

[mcgucket]

You're joking.

[This is stated as flat as possible... until the thought occurs to him that it could very well not be joking and this would mean having to be worried about the mirror haunting him, perhaps even showing up to embarrass him in front of other people... or god forbid Ford who would ask too many questions about it...]

You even gonna tell me why you want me to do this?

[thegrayportrait]

I'm dead serious.

[The Mirror does not care for joking around, especially with matters such as these. Instead, he is blunt when he is honest, and subtle when he's not. The rest of his thoughts remain unspoken.]

I will tell you my reasoning when we are done.

[The phrase "Are you ready?" is underlined.]

[mcgucket]

[omg why us]

Okay, fine, I'm ready.

[hit us with your words, buddy]

[thegrayportrait]

[The writing is neatly wiped away, and the first word appears near the top of the mirror.]

White.

[mcgucket]

[...]

Dreams... the ones from a few months ago, to be exact.

[About the white version of wonderland, which was when these two first spoke to one another, actually.]

[thegrayportrait]

[He moves onto the next word without comment.]

Memory.

[mcgucket]

... A recollection of events or other details from the past.

[Which, isn't actually the very first thing that came to mind at that word, but the mirror doesn't need to know that.]

[thegrayportrait]

[Then what was his first thought?]

Dimension.

[mcgucket]

["Memory gun"]

A unit of measure regarding space... most here though likely think of "alternate" or "multiple" dimensions when the word comes up.

[thegrayportrait]

[He's getting closer...]

Portal.

[mcgucket]

[how about no]

Pass.

[He does not want to talk about his thoughts or feelings about that blasted thing right now.]

[thegrayportrait]

[Ah, there it is.]

Machine.

[mcgucket]

The sort of things I build or invent as an engineer, usually.

[thegrayportrait]

Universe.

[mcgucket]

Everything that exists in terms of physical matter both on Earth, the planet itself, and the space that it exists within. Several of us seem'ta come from different universes in that their Earth is not the same as what we're familiar with, or they come from a different world entirely that does not seem to exist within the space of our own universe.

[thegrayportrait]

[... Well then.]

Forgive the interruption, but that was a well-educated explanation. Were you a scholar of some sort back in you world?

[Mirrors get curious too!]

[mcgucket]

Scientist: my PHDs are in hyper-advanced engineering and fifth dimensional calculus.

[it's one of the few things he's still able to take pride in lately]

[thegrayportrait]

Interesting...
And what will you do if you forgot that knowledge?

[mcgucket]

... So that's what this is all about.

[Of course. He should have known they would be inquiring about that incident with the memory gun being used on the real Dorian...]

I won't forget that knowledge, as it's not somethin' that I want to forget.

[And the memory gun is only supposed to take away the unwanted memories... or at least, that's the intention he had for it...]

[thegrayportrait]

[This actually goes back to last Christmas. He remembers McGucket's notes.]

What of the consequences? The side effects? Surely, you've thought your methods through to account for the hazards of forgetting important things.

[mcgucket]

There aren't any negative side effects of the memory gun. It erases only what it's programmed to erase from the user's mind, nothin' more and nothin' less.

[Although, the moment he says those words, there's an odd sort of mental twitch, as if something is trying to tell him that this isn't the first time he's said this before to someone. However, he chooses to ignore it.]

[thegrayportrait]

[Too bad the mirror is observant.]

I don't doubt the machine does what it is built to do, but humans people get addicted to things through repetition.

Besides, if you forget your mistakes, how can you possibly learn from them?

[mcgucket]

[ughhh why do you sound like Stanford about this]

Even if someone uses the device more than once, it would still only erase what the user types into it's interface.

[And he is going to stick to that story for as long as he can until he's unable to do so anymore.]

[thegrayportrait]

[The mirror pokes holes in that logic.]

And what do you want to forget? Misdeeds? Horrible truths? Minor inconviniences?

[mcgucket]

[And at those words, Fiddleford finally looks well and truly pissed off for a moment.]

What I want to forget is none of your business, or anyone else's for that matter.

[And unless the mirror can think of something to say that can stop or delay him a moment further, Fiddleford is now picking up a towel from somewhere off the floor here, preparing to toss it over the mirror and cover it and the words from being seen.]

[thegrayportrait]

[The mirror wasn't fast enough to say anything more.]

[Dorian sighed as the glass was covered up. There's another Real shutting him out. Great. It seems this one is incapable of being reasoned with.]

[Or is he? There's a good chance McGucket will lock this memory away as well. Then he might wonder why his mirror is covered up and remove the sheet. Keeping this in mind, Dorian wiped away the message he was writing and walked out.]

[He'll be back. If McGucket never forgets about the incident in his room, he'll have to wander through the halls at point. He won't be able to hide from his troubles forever.]

[The Mirror will make sure of that.]

12/25

[naughty_nurse]

[Hey, there's a package at his doorstep! Inside is a first aide kit, and a slice of Christmas cake. Comes with a note.]

Merry Christmas, Mister McGucket. Thank you for being so nice to me.

Mikan Tsumiki.

Backdated to 12/25

[romsapience]

[There’s a painting left on Fiddleford’s doorstep, with a tag that says, ‘Merry Christmas! Sincerely, Turing’

The painting in question is a pastel yellow, with thin gray and brown stripes stretching from one end of the painting to another. It looks like the strings of a banjo, which is exactly what Turing is going for.]