The grand reopening of the Tent of Telepathy was hardly the biggest event Mabel had ever seen, but she could guess it was the biggest this town had.

The line extended out the Tent's door and down the road; nobody seemed to mind standing around in the cold. Mabel and Dipper were close (but not quite inside) the door, and they looked longingly at the warm interior beyond the entrance. The two had yet to get used to the cold — not to mention the sheer amount of snow — in Gravity Rises. Melody, their benefactor for the evening, chatted easily with the townsfolk around her, smiling and laughing as she waited to enter the Tent.

The Tent itself was a sight to behold. At the base, it was a normal brick building; but, fastened above the roof, a pyramid of purple cloth rose into the air. That way, the Tent was stylized to look like an actual tent, but it still had the advantages — like heating and electricity — of a normal building. Atop the cloth peak, held up by a firm pole, a white crescent moon loomed over on the crowd; a single eye stared out from its center. The late evening sun shone on the back of the moon, making it appear to glow (although, on second glance, Mabel decided it must be made of painted wood). The top of the Tent rose over the surrounding trees, and the eye seemed to watch the crowd below.

"You sure you don't mind taking us, Melody?" Mabel asked. She felt bad that Melody had to pay for their tickets — but if Ford wouldn't, then someone had to.

"Not at all," Melody replied with a smile. "I wanted to come down myself sometime, and now I get to come with you two. Sounds like a great deal to me."

A cheer rose up from inside the building, and — finally — the line started moving. Mabel shivered in relief as she stepped through the door, her eyes adjusting to the electric lighting. Down the entrance hall, the doors to the showroom stood open, framed by decorative purple curtains. "There's Bud Pleasure," said Melody, pointing to a man who was collecting tickets as people moved through the door. "He's Pacifica's father." He looked congenial enough, though the residual signs of worry still showed on his face.

Soon, it was their turn, and Melody cheerfully handed Bud the three tickets she had purchased earlier. Dipper raced ahead to find good seats, and Mabel followed at a slower pace, drinking it all in. The showroom was shadowy; the curved, protruding designs on the wall made it feel small and enclosed, though it was fairly large. Wide tiers of seats surrounded a single isle, which led to the stage. The stage, a simple wooden platform, was unremarkable save the large crescent-moon-and-eye symbol painted on the back wall. Staggered curtains formed a visual maze of entrances and exits on the sides.

"Over here!" Dipper called. He'd found three chairs by the aisle on the third row. Mabel sat next to him; he'd gotten a good view.

It took a good fifteen minutes for the crowd to get settled and fill the showroom with chatter. Dipper turned to his automatic reliever of boredom: talking. While he and Melody chatted, Mabel's eyes traced the crescent moon with its watchful eye. Excited, but a bit apprehensive, she wondered what the psychic show would be like.

A sudden noise sent her spinning around, and she saw the back doors close as the last of the audience found their seats.

Then the lights went out.

~~~~~

Pacifica stood in the wings, running her gloved hands over her purple amulet as excitement rushed through her. Time to put on a show.

Time to reclaim her fame.

She had all the workings of a typical psychic show: plants in the audience, microphones planted throughout the building, a concealed headset that got Pacifica the information she needed. She'd had all these resources in Portland, where she had lived with her grandmother for the past year. Yet her show had failed in Portland.

Now she was back in Gravity Rises. Here, her show wouldn't fail. Not with her amulet. Not with her magic. The townsfolk came to see a psychic show?

Well, they were going to get a psychic show.

Pacifica had the set-up. She had the flair for drama. She had her amulet, which gave her the edge she needed to be truly spectacular. With her magic, she could search the minds of unsuspecting patrons to reveal secrets — secrets they thought they'd never told a soul. And they hadn't. But that wouldn't stop her.

A deep breath. Straightening her shawl. Plumping up her hair. Let's do this.

The room outside went dark. Pacifica hurried to the center of the stage as silently as possible and struck a dramatic pose. A spotlight snapped on (she made sure to stare beneath it so she didn't flinch), and the crowd cheered. Some of them, like the idiots they were, looked completely baffled that she'd "appeared" on the stage. Pacifica smiled at their attention.

She was back.

"Hello, my friends," Pacifica said, her voice taking on a soft and mystical quality. "It's been so long. Oh, but I've missed you." This was a bold-faced lie — as was the idea that any of these people were her friends — but Pacifica said the words with a gentle smile. "I see some familiar faces. . . and some new ones. Well, to old and new, I say: Welcome. Welcome to another world."

The audience was silent, hanging on to her every word.

"In this world, thoughts are no longer confined to our minds. In this world, our mental energy is entwined." As she spoke, she mentally activated her amulet. The world of which she spoke snapped into her view. Everything in the physical world turned grey. Purple smoke curled up from the heads of her audience, forming around shapes and words of various colors. The sight of this world — a world that belonged to her alone — made Pacifica want to weep with relief. She had missed this. She had missed the beautiful colors of her world.

Focus, Pacifica. She had a show to put on.

"Clear your minds of inhibitions," she directed, sweeping her arm out over the crowd. "Let your thoughts flow freely through the air." She closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. "I will receive you," she said, her eyes still closed. "Allow me to walk among your thoughts."

Her eyes snapped open with such force that a few of the audience members flinched. She let her gaze roam the crowd until it locked on a woman on the fourth row. "Lazy Susan," she said, allowing a faint smile to come to her face. "How have you been? Anything exciting happen to you while I was away?"

Lazy Susan — a large woman with a permanently closed eye — ran the local diner. Pacifica doubted she'd ever had an exciting day in her life. Regardless, she searched the purple smoke that curled around Susan's head, looking for an answer to her question.

"She has a new apple fritter dish at her restaurant," her headset buzzed helpfully. Pacifica dug into Susan's mind, finding the recipe. It was fairly close to the surface; when Pacifica had asked about exciting events, this was what Susan thought of.

Oh, yes. Apple fritters were exciting indeed.

"Apple fritter? That sounds delicious." Pacifica sent a wink Susan's way. "Don't worry. I won't tell anyone your secret recipe."

With that, she moved on to the next patron. "Tad, how lovely to see you again," she said to a man in the fifth row. "What have you been up to since I last saw you?" This man, Tad Strange, was another person who wouldn't recognize excitement if it punched him in the face. Pity such a delightful name was wasted on him.

A tip from her headset and a foray into Tad's mind told her what she needed to know. "Wow, Tad, you're really changing it up! A new kind of bread? How brave of you to. . ."

Pacifica trailed off.

What was that?

Her eyes slid from Tad and moved two rows forward. Two kids, about her age, stared innocently up at her. They seemed normal, yet Pacifica's gaze had been drawn by something abnormal indeed: There was no smoke around their heads. Pacifica peered down at them, trying to see something, anything, in their minds.

Nothing.

She had never seen these two before. They looked to be twins, with similar faces and hair, and neither of their minds were visible to her. Who were they, and why couldn't she read them? She pushed harder. Nothing. No purple smoke, no floating thoughts. They were as impenetrable as a rock wall.

What was going on?

She blinked. Focus, Pacifica. She'd already been silent for several seconds. She flicked her eyes back up to Tad Strange. "Sorry," she said. "There was a disturbance in the ether; it momentarily shorted out my power. As I was saying. . ."

The show must go on. Figure out the enigma twins later.

Pacifica continued the show with no more hiccups. She was flawless at covering up feelings of frustration or anger with an adorable smile and a secretive wink.

But those twins — those smokeless, greyscale twins. They stayed in her periphery for the rest of the night.