In the years to come, the twins tell the story together, and they tell it like this:

"Yeah, so, I'm staring at the machine, right?" Stanley says, leaning back in his chair, casual and easy, like he hasn't just confessed to accidentally breaking a machine his brother had spent months constructing and which was the ticket to his dreams, "And it ain't moving no more, which is a problem since the thing's not supposed to stop moving, and a panel's come off the side. So I manage to get the panel back on, the machine starts moving again, boom, problem solved! I put the sheet that's supposed to cover the whole thing back on so Sixer can whip it off all dramatic-like for the WCT guys – that was my idea, you know, people always like a good build-up, and then I high-tail it before I can cause any more problems.

"Except as I'm going, I slip on this snack bag I musta dropped earlier and fall flat on my face. And when I look up again the sheet's slipped off and the machine ain't moving again, which is when I really start to panic and go to find Sixer."

"And you fixed it?" one listener asks, leaning forward, waiting for the triumph that must be coming.

Stanford laughs at this, shooting his brother a rueful look before he picks up the story. "Good heavens, no! Well, not for lack of trying, mind you. Apparently some of the paperclips I'd used hadn't been properly strength-tested and, well, you know how it is – substandard materials, substandard product. I'd done the best with what resources I had available, but the insides were a mess when I took a look. Even I hadn't realized how delicate it was. I had the thing half open and an eighth in pieces by the time the college scouts came through. I must have looked a sight after staying up all night rewiring it."

"What did the judges do? Did they leave on the spot?" the other listener fidgets, nervous, wary of what might happen.

"They tried to," Stanford admits, eliciting a gasp, "Unfortunately for them, that was the instant Stanley came barreling back from his latest supply run-"

"Yeah, spent the whole night tearing around town finding stuff and twisting wires and crap. You know how much talking it takes ta get a guy to sell ya hardware at four in the morning?"

"-yes, you suffered greatly, don't interrupt." There is a moment where the story devolves into the two shoving each other for a few moments in a manner that feels the interruption and shoving are as much a part of the story as the rest of it before Stanford continues, "Anyway, Lee comes crashing through the room, bellowing about coat hangers and duct tape and he crashed headlong into the people from West Coast Tech. As it happened, though, one of them landed at eye level with my project and ended up getting an extremely good look at its internal components, and asked me a question.

"They weren't thrilled the machine was in pieces, of course, but they were impressed to see what I'd accomplished with such rudimentary materials – and of course the math behind it was in perfect working order…"

And thus Stanford had been offered a scholarship at West Coast Tech which he had gladly accepted, and life had been perfect.

Well, for a week or so, life had been perfect. Then there had been the fight, the explosion, more accurately, and the listeners huddle closer together as they hear about it, the concept of such anger dividing two such close siblings like this a foreign, uncomfortable presence in their world. A verbal battle over who was being abandoned, who was being smothered, and two weeks of enraged silence that broke only when Stanford had learned Stanley wasn't making any plans for his future past high school anymore, not even regarding the Stan o' War. He'd never expected his brother to follow him into college, of course – not with Stanley's grades – but… surely he could go to a technical school or somewhere similar and learn a trade, something to fall back on between his adventures or when he was running low on funds.

Which was how he'd found out that Stanley had also heard that fateful conversation in the principal's office, about West Coast Tech… and taffy-scraping. He hadn't known Stanley had heard that, let alone taken it to heart. It had been an unpleasant moment, realizing that he'd been so intent on his own escape that he hadn't paused to consider how Stanley would make his, or thought to wonder why his twin was so upset about Ford going off to school. Much- much as Stanley himself had not realized how much his own brother longed for this chance to test himself in his field of strength.

They had looked to themselves and their own fears, not considering the other's. One of the disadvantages of being seventeen and not having quite as much experience with the world as you think you do.

In any case, a flurry of brainstorming and research had resulted in a last-minute application to the mechanical program at a school called Backups Tech, sister school to the maybe somewhat vaguely only not really more prestigious Backupsmore, on the grounds that if Lee could keep the Stanleymobile running like he did, he could probably pull this off, and people were always going to need their cars fixed.

Filbrick wasn't impressed with this. Then again, he never was, so that was nothing new. On the plus side, their mother was delighted to see her 'little free spirit' finding his path, so that was good.

Stanford's first semester at school had been… hard. On the one hand, West Coast Tech was indeed everything the brochures had promised and more – an exciting, stimulating world of knowledge, full of people actually capable of thinking at the same level as Ford. Exhilarating.

On the other hand, well… it was full of people actually capable of thinking at the same level as Ford. He'd never really encountered that before – Glass Shard Beach was a small town, and Ford had been the smartest person in it for a long time, soaring high above the rest. Suddenly having to share the skies was uncomfortable, especially when he had a sneaking suspicion that some of the other students might actually be smarter than him. Not only that, some of them were also gifted with the same easy social skills Stanley had always enjoyed, which was just blatantly unfair. And it turned out bullies existed everywhere, even in academia; as much as Lee's constant presence had grown cloying, he'd also always been there when Ford needed him. Stanley was the strong twin, after all.

It was hard being out in the world alone.

The classes were excellent, though, and Stanford got along well with his professors. Not to mention the discovery of and attempt to return an odd di with thirty-eight sides had somehow resulted in him getting sucked into a game of DD&MD that had 'needed a bard, man, come on!' The game had been fun, especially the story-telling aspect, to his surprise. He'd- he'd thought Stanley was the only one who had inherited their mother's gift for that sort of thing. It had also led to him making some friends on campus, something he hadn't really done before, certainly not without Stanley's help…

West Coast Tech was hard, and terrifying, and glorious, and many letters were sent to Backups Tech expanding upon this.

On the flip side had been Stanley, taking his first steps towards a future rather different than the one he'd been planning involving the Stan o' War (at least for now). His first semester at school had been… hard. On the one hand, Backups Tech had been full of his kind of people – creative thinkers and dreamers just beginning to realize that making those dreams come true might be a little harder than they thought. It was a fun, friendly environment where 'Bodging 101' was an actual course (one Stanley signed up for).

On the other hand… it was hard work, a lot of it. Stanley had never had to work this hard in school before. He'd always had Ford to lean on or turn to when the 'nerd stuff' got too confusing. And he couldn't afford to just coast along – one of the only things that had convinced Filbrick to let him come was the deal that, if Stanley couldn't keep his grades up, his butt was back home scraping taffy, an equally motivating and terrifying prospect, especially since this really wasn't Lee's world. Stanford was the smart twin, after all.

It was hard being out in the world alone.

The classes were pretty interesting, though. Unlike history or English, mechanics were something Stanley didn't actually mind reading about, and the subject made sense to him – cars didn't require you to know a million dates or turn out to be metaphors or anything obnoxious like that. Not to mention a bureaucratic mix-up had landed Stanley in the dorms of Backupsmore as opposed to Backups Tech (which, to be fair, were identical buildings across the street from each other), rooming with a weird young scientist with an even weirder name - Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

He also had an accent and a banjo. These did not inspire hope, and Stanley resigned himself to a year of bumping heads, nerd speak, and bad music.

Instead, he discovered that Fiddleford was, in a way, studying the same subject he way from the opposite direction – theoretical as opposed to practical. Not to mention that the Southerner had a proper appreciation for the finer things in life, like Mershey bars, cheap beer, and card tricks. And banjo music turned out not to be nearly as obnoxious as he'd been led to believe.

Backups Tech was hard, and terrifying, and glorious, and many letters were sent to West Coast Tech detailing this.

OoOoOoOoO

September 12

Dear Stan,

My professors have requested I expand upon the algorithms I used in my perpetual motion machine. There is discussion of my potentially giving a talk about it to them and some of my fellow students. Such events are not uncommon from what I have heard – I went to one the other day on more accurate methods for tracking comets, developed by a fellow student in her second year. It was a follow-up to a similar talk she gave last year. I wish I had been here to see it, her reasoning method, well… suffice to say, I shall have to take another look at my own processes.

That said… what are those tricks you use for speaking in front of enormous crowds again? I would be immensely grateful if you could…

OoOoOoOoO

Sept 21

Dear Stan,

Did you know most people think measuring stuff with your eyes is hard? Like, even if you are wearing your glasses or have naturally good vision. I thought everyone could do that.

On an entirely unrelated note, have made a pact with my roommate Fiddlenerd, to the tune that I will wear my glasses when the loss of limbs or digits is possible, and he will not use the fact that he only needs about three hours of sleep a night for evil. Something about not wanting to risk the roommate selection pool twice. Oh, and, unlike you, he's actually still recognizable as a human after the sleep thing. You still interested in anomalies? You should come here. Fiddlenerd is an anomaly, come study him, I swear he ain't natural. He also keeps acting real surprised that I can follow his nerd speak half the time. I've told him it's because I grew up with you, but he said it didn't work like that with his siblings. But they ain't twins, so it's different.

Anyhow, apparently physics is important for mechanics, so I have to know some stuff better. How did you remember all the terms again, like fulcrum and stuff? You had a rhyme, but I can't…

OoOoOoOoO

October 2

Dear Stan,

I got to be in the same room as a particle accelerator today, Stanley! A PARTICLE ACCELERATOR! Note the capital letters and exclamation points! I wasn't allowed to use it, of course – I haven't had the necessary training and won't receive it until second year at the least. But still, it reminds one of the heights still to be explored!

Also, I took a look that equation of your roommate's that you sent (and what is his real name, Stanley, I refuse to believe that any parents would actually name their child 'Fiddlenerd'). I'm afraid to admit that I can't actually make out what he's trying to proof without a little more knowledge as to what the variables stand for in this instance. I suspect- that is to say, I would assume from the format that he's calculating the potential mph an engine can generate without setting itself aflame, but this conclusion can't be correct – the final number is a good ten miles faster than anything land-based I've ever heard of, so surely it can't- can it? I had thought you were exaggerating his mental prowess, however…

OoOoOoOoO

Oct 25

Dear Stan,

Okay, first, Fiddlesticks says 'hi.' Second, no more nerd game talk. No more. I don't care what level your arithmancer is, I get enough math in class, I don't wanna hear more from you. I am happy you have found friends that are equally nerd-minded, and I will tolerate it when we are face-to-face, because you are my brother and I love you, but for the sake of Paul Bunyan, don't waste paper more paper on it! Glad to hear it's helping with your talking-in-public thing, though.

Actually, I got news, too! Your never gonna guess who got an 'A' on his last test! That's right, me! I stuck it in the envelope, too, so there's physical proof, didn't even cheat or nothing! And I will put up with your comments about 'applying myself' and doing it sooner, because I'm too damn excited to care! I think it might have something to do with how they teach around here, all hands on and stuff, real different than they did back at Glass Shard High. Makes it easier for dummies like me to pick up on what they're getting at…

OoOoOoOoO

October 28

Dear Stan,

I knew you could do it.

OoOoOoOoO

Nov 1

Dear Stan,

That was below the belt.

…thanks, Sixer. Looking forward to seeing you again for winter break…

OoOoOoOoO

November 4

Dear Stan,

Looking forward to seeing you, too…

OoOoOoOoO

I like the ideas of the Stans both calling each other 'Stan,' because they find it amusing. Also, it's really fun to write those two in the letters – Stanley really does have a lot of 'personality,' and Ford is an excuse to pull out all the stops with my vocabulary. Also, I don't know how far apart their schools are, but I'm going with the basis that it takes about three days for their letters to get from one to the other.

I follow the belief that Stanley's actually pretty smart in his own right, considering everything he had to do and learn to fix and reactivate the portal. He's just not as smart as Ford, and he's always been 'the dumb twin' as a result. And he believes this label (and likes to take the easy route and coast or lean on Ford when he can). Put in a situation where he's interested in the material and has sufficient motivation, I think he could probably done well in school, especially one that approached education from an interactive standpoint (as I think that would suit Stan's personality more than the traditional book learning that works so well for Ford).

Both twins would benefit from this time apart, and likely end up with a healthier relationship because of it.

I might do some more of this at some point.