Chapter 9: The Research Phase
The Party met every Tuesday and Thursday in my basement, treating dimensional investigation like the most important homework assignment ever given.
October passed in a blur of theories, calculations, and wild speculation. Dustin brought graph paper and filled it with mathematical equations that would have impressed actual physicists. Mike sketched dimensional models on poster board. Lucas mapped Hawkins with military precision. Will drew.
Always drawing.
"Okay, so based on your extraction timeline—" Dustin adjusted his glasses, peering at the spreadsheet he'd created. "—you got the compass in September 1980, the medkit in June 1981, and the grappling hook in June 1982. That's exactly 274 days between extractions one and two, then 365 days between two and three."
"Different recharge times?" Mike asked.
"Or different methodology." Dustin tapped his pencil against the paper. "What if the backpack charges at a consistent rate, but Steve's been using it differently? First extraction at 100%, second at 100% again after 274 days, third at 200% after a full year..."
I kept my expression carefully neutral. He's close. Too close.
"The math doesn't work," Lucas pointed out. "274 days isn't 100%. It's—" He grabbed a calculator. "—75% if we assume 365 days is the baseline."
"Unless the charge rate isn't linear." Dustin started scribbling faster. "What if it's affected by environmental factors? Location, time of day, proximity to dimensional weak points..."
"Dimensional weak points aren't real," Mike said.
"We're literally investigating a dimensional storage device. Everything is real now."
I let them argue for another ten minutes before intervening. "Dustin's right about environmental factors. The compass points more actively toward certain locations. The woods near the lab. The quarry. Places where reality feels... thin."
"Thin." Will's quiet voice cut through the debate. "Like the walls between worlds are stretched."
Everyone turned to look at him. He flushed but continued.
"In D&D, planar boundaries can weaken. Natural thin spots where magic seeps through. If dimensions work the same way, maybe Steve's power charges faster near those weak points."
"That's—" Dustin grabbed his papers again. "—that's actually brilliant. If the backpack draws energy from dimensional boundaries, proximity would absolutely affect charge rate. Steve, how often do you check the compass?"
"Daily."
"And when does it point most strongly?"
I considered lying, decided truth served better. "Morning and evening. Dawn and dusk. Never during the day."
Dustin's eyes went wide. "Liminal times. Transitions between states. Oh my god, this is consistent with theoretical dimensional mechanics!"
"Theoretical dimensional mechanics aren't a thing," Lucas said.
"They are now!"
Dustin
Dustin Henderson had never been more excited about anything in his entire life.
A real mystery. Actual impossible phenomena. And Steve Harrington—Steve Harrington!—had chosen them to investigate it.
The calculations were beautiful. If Dustin assumed a base charge rate of approximately 1% per day, the extraction timeline made perfect sense. 100 days for the first full charge, another 100 for the second, then Steve had somehow waited 200 days for the third extraction.
"You held it at 100%," Dustin said suddenly, looking up from his math. "The third extraction. You waited an extra 100 days before pulling the grappling hook. Why?"
Steve's expression flickered—just for a moment, but Dustin caught it. "Wanted to see if capacity increased with overcharging."
"Did it?"
"Don't know. Still figuring out the mechanics."
He's hiding something, Dustin thought. Not maliciously—Steve had been nothing but straightforward with them. But there were pieces he wasn't sharing. Pieces he maybe couldn't share yet.
"Environmental factors would explain charge variance," Dustin continued, filing away the overcharge question for later. "If you spent time near dimensional weak points, the rate would accelerate. Which means we need to map Hawkins for potential thin spots."
"Already on it." Lucas spread his hand-drawn map across the table. Red X marks dotted the paper at seemingly random locations. "These are places where Steve's compass has pointed. I'm cross-referencing with local history, geological surveys, anything that might indicate anomalies."
Mike leaned over the map. "The lab's the biggest concentration."
"Government facility doing weird experiments." Lucas tapped the largest cluster of marks. "Not exactly shocking."
"But why?" Will asked softly. "What are they doing that weakens dimensional boundaries?"
Silence fell. None of them had a good answer.
"Energy experiments," Steve said finally. "That's what the lab claims publicly. Energy research. What if they're actually researching dimensional energy? Trying to access power sources from parallel realities?"
Dustin's mind raced. "That would require creating controlled dimensional breaches. Small gates. Which would absolutely create weak points in local reality..."
"We're speculating," Mike interrupted. "We need evidence, not theories."
"Theories lead to evidence." Dustin grabbed fresh paper. "Give me two weeks. I'll refine the charge rate calculations, incorporate environmental variables, and project when the next extraction should occur."
"December," Steve said. "If the 1% per day rate holds, the battery should hit 100% again around late December."
"Your birthday," Will observed.
Steve blinked. "Yeah. Actually, yeah. December 23rd."
"Perfect," Dustin said. "We can test my calculations against real-world results. If the extraction happens when I predict, we'll know the model is accurate."
Steve
Mike Wheeler was too smart for his own good.
He'd spent three weeks building a theoretical model of dimensional relationships using D&D cosmology as the foundation, and somehow—impossibly—he'd gotten it mostly right.
"Picture dimensions as layers," Mike explained, displaying his poster board like a professional presentation. "The Material Plane is our reality. But there are parallel planes that exist simultaneously—mirror worlds, alternate versions, adjacent spaces."
His diagram showed concentric circles representing different dimensional layers, with the Material Plane at the center and various parallel dimensions arranged around it. One layer, labeled "Shadow Plane," was marked with dark shading and the note "inverse/decay."
That's the Upside Down, I realized with cold certainty. He drew the Upside Down without knowing what it is.
"The backpack accesses one of these parallel planes," Mike continued. "Specifically, a storage dimension where items exist in stasis. When Steve extracts something, he's pulling it across dimensional boundaries into our reality."
"Why random items?" Lucas asked. "If it's just storage, shouldn't he be able to choose what to extract?"
"Limited access," Dustin suggested. "Like fishing in a pond. You cast the line, you get whatever bites. Steve's power lets him reach into the dimension, but he can't see what's there or control what comes out."
"Or," Mike said slowly, "the items aren't random. They're being selected by something else. The dimension itself, maybe. Providing what's needed rather than what's wanted."
My skin prickled. The Dimensional Backpack's power description mentioned it drew from "the Void between dimensions"—a space saturated with dimensional energy. If that space had some level of awareness, some ability to assess need and provide accordingly...
That's either comforting or terrifying, I thought. Probably both.
"Let's assume controlled selection," I said carefully. "What would that mean for future extractions?"
"Pattern analysis." Dustin pulled out his list of items: compass, medkit, grappling hook. "Compass provides threat detection. Medkit provides healing. Grappling hook provides mobility. They're covering fundamental survival needs—awareness, recovery, escape."
"Next extraction should be defensive," Lucas concluded. "Some kind of protection or armor."
"Or offensive," Mike countered. "A weapon to actually fight threats instead of just detecting them."
They debated for twenty minutes while I sat back and marveled at how close they were to understanding something they shouldn't be able to conceive. These kids would fight monsters in less than a year. Right now, they were reverse-engineering supernatural mechanics like it was a math problem.
They were going to be fine. Better than fine.
They were going to be extraordinary.
Will
Will Byers didn't know why he kept drawing the dark place.
It started innocently—Steve asked if someone could sketch the theoretical "other dimension" for their research documentation. Will volunteered because he liked drawing, and because the others were better at math and mapping.
But once he started, he couldn't stop.
The pencil moved across paper like something else guided his hand. Decaying buildings that looked like Hawkins but wrong. Ash floating instead of snow. A sky that was perpetually twilight, red and bruised. Vines covering everything, pulsing like they were alive.
"That's creepy," Lucas said, looking over his shoulder. "Very horror movie."
"It feels right," Will murmured. He added details to one building—a small structure in the woods, barely standing, covered in drawings and fairy lights. "Like this is what the dimension actually looks like."
"You can't know that," Mike pointed out. "We're just theorizing."
"I know." Will kept drawing. Something about the little structure felt important. Familiar. "But doesn't it feel true? When you look at it?"
Mike studied the sketch. "Yeah. Actually, it kind of does."
Steve had gone very still. Will glanced up and caught an expression on the older boy's face—recognition? Fear? It vanished before Will could be sure.
"That's good work," Steve said quietly. "Really good. Can you make more? Different locations in the dark dimension?"
"Sure." Will flipped to a fresh page. "Any specific requests?"
"Residential areas. Woods. Maybe a school or downtown. Just... wherever your instincts take you."
Will drew for another hour while the others debated theories. Each sketch emerged fully formed in his mind before the pencil touched paper—the Wheelers' house covered in creeping vines, Hawkins High School with its windows dark and hollow, Main Street where nothing moved and decay consumed everything.
The dark dimension felt real in a way his normal drawings never did. Like he was remembering instead of imagining. But that was impossible. He'd never been anywhere like the places he was drawing.
Yet, something whispered in the back of his mind. You haven't been there yet.
He shivered and kept drawing.
Steve
December arrived with early snow and Mr. Clarke's unexpected invitation.
"Steve." The science teacher caught me after school, genuine enthusiasm radiating from every word. "I've heard you've been mentoring some of my students. Henderson, Wheeler, Sinclair, and Byers?"
"Mentoring is a strong word." I adjusted my backpack. "More like letting them investigate weird theories in my basement."
"They're excited about science. About dimensional physics, specifically. And you're encouraging that curiosity." Mr. Clarke smiled. "I'd like to formally invite you to help supervise the AV Club. We meet twice a week. Your presence would give the younger students someone to look up to—proof that being interested in learning doesn't exclude you from other social circles."
Perfect. Official access to the kids. Legitimate reason to be around them when November 1983 rolled around.
"I'd be happy to help," I said. "Though I'm not sure how much actual science I can contribute."
"You don't need to teach. Just be present. Answer questions. Let them see that someone like you values their interests."
"Someone like me?"
"Popular. Athletic. The kind of student who typically wouldn't give the AV Club the time of day." Mr. Clarke's expression turned knowing. "But you're not typical, are you, Steve?"
"Trying not to be."
"It shows. The offer stands—Tuesday and Thursday afternoons. Let me know."
I accepted, and by the following week I was officially an AV Club volunteer supervisor. Which mostly meant sitting in the corner while the kids built radios and debated electromagnetic theory, occasionally fielding questions about what adults actually cared about.
The Party used club time to continue their research, spreading maps and calculations across tables while Mr. Clarke nodded approvingly at their "extracurricular dimensional studies."
"Your extraction should happen in thirteen days," Dustin announced during one session, showing me his refined calculations. "December 23rd, plus or minus two days for environmental variance. Battery should hit exactly 100% based on the linear charge model."
"And if it doesn't?" I asked.
"Then my model needs revision. But it will." Dustin grinned, absolutely confident. "Math doesn't lie."
No, I thought, but I do. The backpack had hit 100% yesterday. I was deliberately holding extraction until Dustin's predicted date to validate his work and maintain the illusion I was learning alongside them.
The things I did for proper research methodology.
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