Flashes of bright yellow hit the purple-walled interior of a once-darkened lab. Vials, tubes, and containers all stood erect, a symbol of hard work that was yet to be done. Large bulbous eyes glared through empty gelatinous prison cells. He had just recently terminated all his tests, decided that the subjects he had kept were no longer worthy of his genius experimentation. He had broken most of the husks of humans he had in possession and left them in a nearby wooded area. He felt a twinge of remorse as he watched a group of crazed wolves launch at his old subjects. His antennae lowered as his face scrunched uneasily. He remained at the neck of the woods, wondering just how long it would take for the animals to find the humans. His interest was diminished, and he returned to his cruiser to head back home.
Now, he was irritated. When he became bored teasing the captured germs in his base with the many vaccines he had created, he thought of using humans again. His claws gripped a table as he weighed the options. The humans could be such great subjects at times, but humans were often not of much value with the limited resources he had and the deficit when his experiments yielded useless data. However, his interest did pique at a certain human biological mystery. In fact, this particular interest plagued the humans almost as much as it plagued the young Irken.
Zim was interested in the human brain. He was both fascinated and appalled by how the human brain often worked as an Irken PAK. His PAK helped him regulate oxygen and turn it into semptum, the breathable air gas that was in Irk's atmosphere. Likewise, a human brain tells the lungs how to inflate and deflate and fill with air. PAKs held valuable information and deleted the rest; brains could perform the same action, but they were awful at it evidently. PAKs could be injured or removed and would ultimately kill its host; Zim was beginning to think the same of human brains.
He heard of Phineas Cage in his erratic late-night library perusing. He read with interest about the man's accident and how his injury didn't affect his functions or even kill him, but instead messed with his personality. He found an old human psychology textbook and spent the entire night committing a large part of it to memory. His antennae fell and rose dramatically as he read about the lobotomies of diseased brains and the prevalence of medication to heal these illnesses and avoid the mistakes of the past. It was all so much information that he ended up missing a day of Skool just to commit the large amounts of data he had gained to memory. His PAK had went into a stand-by-like mode, putting him into a temporary stasis. Zim hummed in incredulity when he later read that humans had to have experiments done in order to find out stasis would better serve a human's memory systems.
He considered capturing a human and doing experiments on them. However, the pure gory mental details that crossed his mind whenever he thought of such a thing only made his squeedly-spooch turn with upset. The number of germs humans had on their exterior bodies was easily redacted by a shower of chemical solutions, and that was just so that with the minimal handling the invader had to do, he wouldn't fall ill. On the other hand, carving into, opening up, and dissecting a human? Awful and preposterous! He would have to prep for months for a single surgery! He had not either the money or the patience for such a procedure. Not to mention the absurdity of dissecting another being; he wasn't a human and he wouldn't stoop to such a level. It wouldn't make him any different than the human Dib.
Instead he buried his antennae in books and articles from the Earth years prior until he found the last known psychological artifact known to human knowledge. This was a thing called the Brin Complex and it was a singular ten-paged document that was written by the father of anti-psychology. In ten pages he detailed a cure for the insatiable urge for human advancement, why some souls were just lost, and how the only true certainty we have about the brain is that it exists. On the last page was a photo-copy of a formula for the Vaccine 60199867. This was the last mention of the Earth science; psychology. Zim scoured archives, databases, and even government websites for any further mention of the term or the vaccine and what exactly it had done. He was mostly annoyed at how the document was entirely anonymous and the only handwriting he could connect the ending formula to was of a five-year-old human child named Jackie.
Vaccine 60199867, known as BrAP in human child vaccine requirement lists and medical documents, was known as the life-saving vaccine that brought the end of inhuman suffering. Zim growled as he leafed through the flowery language that barred him from the true secrets of this vaccine and its virus. They claimed the vaccine had cured almost all the humans and that it was eventually declared a human right for the healing effects of its power. There was not a single trace of how and why the vaccine worked.
The Irken could accurately remember the day he had spoken up in his human health class about psychology. Miss Bitters' stony temperament nearly twitched in surprise when he brought up the ancient subject. She barked at the little green kid and went on a wild tangent on how nosy children could be, how at one point she had wanted a child but like a polar bear would eventually eat their young to survive, she realized that humans would turn on their own young inevitably to further their own selfish desires. He remembered how Bitters had gone on to lecture Zim on how wrong he was, how he was nosy, annoying, and too loud, how he had no business asking such stupid questions, and that his parents ought to be ashamed of themselves for even mentioning the word to him. The invader was so taken aback by her extra vicious behavior that he ended up fainting by the deep sense of panic she set off through his system. He woke up in the nurses office with a sweltering melted ice-pack burning his skull and a detention for 'wasting teacher's time, interrupting class, and being a nuisance'. The following week, a counselor for each age group was sent to give a class wide announcement on how important it was that students just ask questions that were relevant to the lecture. He informed the students that if anyone had any question outside of the realm of skool relevance then they should address that outside as well or face academic counseling and a call home.
Zim was unfazed by the rudimentary threat of calling one's parental units or getting the stupid Earth Skool officials involved. In fact, this only furthered his drive to uncover the secret of human psychology. However, he was smart enough to never cross Miss Bitters' path on the subject and instead kept his studies at his base.
He looked outside the windows of his base, as the Earth sun peaked behind the horizontal line at the presumed end of his street. The overhead lights remained lit as the earth filled with natural luminence. Zim didn't glare as he watched this event, although he despised the star for its rather unenjoyable heat, the idea that a star could do such odd things to the atmosphere's appearance was undoubtingly fascinating. His ocular implants adjusted as the sky went through various shades of blue and evolved into the orange and red hues of a normal horrible earth morning. The stark contrast of crimson that broke the sky into a bloody war of pollution and air, deeply troubled the Irken who had many, many memories of spending his nights reading books about bright blue beautiful skies. It didn't trouble him in a disturbed way, but the fact left him very puzzled. How could a planet's own inhabitants cause such destruction to its own habitat?
"Good morning, GIR." Zim said the greeting as an announcement, his tone that of a drill sergeant than a caring being.
GIR, of course, does not recognize the edge in his master's words and instead smiles at the greeting, taking any sort of attention he can grab from his busy owner. "Morning, Master!" He waved a cloth paw at the invader.
Zim cocked an eyebrow at his SIR Unit. The Earth day hadn't even started yet and already he was dressed in his human dog disguise. Having GIR walk around the base with his costume on was normal, but not at first emergence. He normally would have Zim run around the base trying to find the suit as GIR would almost have a break down.
GIR gave a stitch-mouthed smile to Zim and pulled out some waffle mix with a jar of chunky peanut butter. "Breakfast is good for a growing boy." He said with an unusual voice. Zim recognized this as a voice-recording from the kids channel he allowed his robot to watch.
"Although you didn't say that in your voice, it still disturbs me." Zim said with a low growl to his voice. His glare softened as he walked over to the table his SIR was at and sat down in a chair across from him. GIR continued on making a batch of Zim's favorite waffles as the Irken opened up a news site on his PAKlet.
"Urgh. Stupid Earth humans. Why would they post an article about a reality television show before the emergence of quality information?" He grumbled as he swiped through the usual junk. The quizzes, cat videos, and social media posts all swam by as he came across an article that caught his attention.
'LOCAL FOUND DEAD, VACCINE INAFFECTIVE, SCIENTISTS ARE BAFFLED'
Zim clicked on the link and watched as the screen loaded to show a picture of a house that Zim recognized being located close to the skool. It was surrounded by flashing blue and red. An ambulance was parked on the curbside. He kept scrolling to read the article. He flashed by the niceties of a dead person and found what he was looking for.
'… confirmed that the young person was due for another round of Vaccine 60199867 later this year. Due to unforeseen events as a child, Less was set up for a continual dose of the normal one-shot vaccine every three years. The last time the deceased had received a dose was October of 2033. They were due for another injection this summer.
Deceased was found in their bedroom dead from-'
Zim read the report out loud as GIR continued to make the waffles in the background, a splash of batter landed on Zim's forehead and startled him. He yelped in surprise and fright. A chill ran down his spine as he wiped the batter away and peeled his attention from his PAKlet. He looked up and gasped, "GIR!"
There was batter all over the floor, on GIR's suit, and caked onto the refrigerator. It would take ages for Zim to clean all of that up.
"It's already five-forty-five. There's no possible way I'll be able to get a fraction of this mess up." He held a bunched-up fist to his head in repressed frustration.
The SIR unit looked guiltily up at his master with a small smile as he held up a stack of peanut butter waffles tentatively, "Waffles make it better."
"No, GIR. A mop and some cleaning solution will make this better." He swiped a waffle from the top of the stack and ate it as he spoke, "While I'm gone I command you to clean up this mess." He swallowed and began walking towards the fridge. He pulled out an energy drink and gulped it down in one go.
"Yes, my master." GIR bellowed as he saluted and his eyes flashed red. A couple of mechanical hands came out of his head, armed with cleaning supplies.
Zim smiled with satisfaction until GIR began brushing his mouth with a toilet bowl brush. He rolled his eyes and slapped another waffle into his mouth and proceeded to fix his lavender contacts onto his eyes. Just as he puffed up his bouffant wig, the clock struck six and he realized that if he didn't hurry and steal some textbooks from the library he would come to class unprepared. He forked the remainder of GIR's waffles into his gullet as he checked his PAKlet for the news article he was reading. The screen was back on the home page and had more quizzes and videos again. He perused the selection several times, looking for the article. His search came up dry on the fifth attempt. His eyes narrowed as he turned the PAKlet screen to black and stuffed it into his PAK.
He didn't have much time to ponder the disappearance of this article. He amounted it to a faulty deletion service, but still wondered what had happened and why he had seen it in the first place. All the literature on Vaccine 60199867 was government-owned and public service announcement knowledge. Zim gave a final warning to GIR about the waffle mess before he slammed the door behind himself and walked out into the empty streets.
He would almost go stiff in fright whenever he saw a human during this hour. He believed most of the humans who had mundane every day jobs and occupancies awoke later into the day, so the ones who appeared at the ass-crack of dawn were clearly government humans who were doing their own surveillance on him. His eyes furrowed when he noticed a man going out to unlock his car. The car lights flashed as he went into the vehicle and ignited the ignition. Zim warily slipped past the still-parked car and bolted down another street that led to the library.
He surveyed the area for activity before deploying his PAK-legs and crawling against the library walls to the second-floor window. He gently pushed the window open and slid in as his PAK-legs disappeared. He picked up a history textbook and some copies of science homework before slipping down to the second floor and grabbing a cup of coffee from the closed shop. He threw away the paper cup and investigated his internal clock. The time was nearing six-forty as he slipped out the front doors and into the darkness behind the building. He used a pen to scribble down the answers to a chemical formula question. He replaced the pen into his PAK and began trekking towards the skool building.
As he walked he took notice of the house he had seen in the picture earlier and saw that it was now vacant. The driveway was empty, the lights were off, and the door had an industrial-sized lock on it. He stared at it, before walking up the steps and into the building.
The hallways were buzzing with social activity as kids crowded around lockers gossiping, laughing, and screeching. Zim wormed his way through the crowds, making sure not to come in physical contact with any of his classmates. Normally this was a feat not easily done, but today he found himself making less sharp turns and ducks. The humans were too busy looking at their cellular devices to navigate the hallways, so Zim found himself sitting at his desk ten minutes before class was to start. He kept his head low, doodling in a notebook as his classmates poured into the room in small chunks and groups. The noise level steadily increased as he finished coloring in a pool of Dib-doodle's blood with a few quick swipes of his pencil. He looked up to find that the real Dib wasn't in class yet. He returned to his notebook and began drawing multiple exclamation points. The marks ranged in size, shade, and style. He dotted the last exclamation mark when Miss Bitters materialized into the room to begin the day's mindless lecture.
He quickly swiveled his head to the right to see if Dib had come to class yet and found he had not. He scanned the rest of the room for a sign of his stupid scythe but found he was simply not present. Zim smirked to himself as he reminisced on the last time the Dib was late to class. Miss Bitters made him write a ten-page, front and back essay on the value of teacher's time and how it did not relate to the amount of pay. She then failed him for the semester for a single misplaced comma. Dib ended up going to Saturday skool just to catch up with the rest of the class.
"And so will you if you don't stop talking to yourself, Zim." Miss Bitters barked as she stood over Zim's bent over figure. The Irken shot up so quickly that he had to hold his wig to keep it from flying off. The class erupted in brief laughter.
"Are you quite finished giving your monologue, Zim?" Miss Bitters asked sarcastically. She had whooshed back to her desk before Zim could stammer out a coherent response.
"I'm sure we're all awaiting the torture of Dib today, but I regret to inform you that this will not be occurring." She announced. The class all sunk in despair. Zim stood at attention and glared around the room, the thought of polar bears and blue skies in the back of his mind as he heard the children mourn their good time.
"Dib will also not be joining us for the remainder of the year. So you may all now give out your collective sigh of relief." Miss Bitters went on. Zim swiped at the air as he smelled onion bagels and unbrushed teeth float through the room as the class did as they were told. But the Dib? Gone? Transferred?
"In other news, I'm sure you have all heard of a death of a local already. Due to the 'circumstances'", she grits her teeth while speaking this, "they are sending in the counselor for a brief evaluation of each of you and further consult." She turned to face Zim. "If deemed necessary."
The door opened to allow a man in. He smiled at the children before ushering in two burly guards. Zim's jaw dropped slightly as he became uneasy.
"Hello Miss Bitters' class. Don't mind my two friends here, they won't be doing anything unless I need them to." His grin was laced with a darker meaning.
"We are here to administer a quick test of sorts to determine if any of you have had any exposure to certain," he bit his lip before speaking, "-abnormalities."
He started on the other end of the classroom, "Please hold out a palm when I pass by you. You will feel a small prick. A dot will appear on your hand, but don't be alarmed. If all the scanner sees is a singular dot, you are fine. I have no doubt that the skool has taken the proper precautions to assure each of you have kept up to date with any health protocol." He tattooed each student, looking and nodding as he continued down the line of desks. "You know, such as handwashing, medication, or vaccines."
Zim could hear a hint of malice in his voice as he said the last word. The invader's heart raced as he panicked, he slipped out of his chair and started towards the door when the two guards stepped in the doorway and grunted disapprovingly. The counselor turned to face the disguised Irken. Zim's lavender eyes widened in fright.
"Ah. Zim, our fresh friendly face. You aren't allowed to leave the classroom until you've been scanned, I'm afraid. Please take a seat."
Zim became hot and flustered, "I have to use the restroom! Zim needs relief!"
"I understand. We can do you now, then, if you need to go so ba-!" he was caught off by Zim who shouted in desperation.
"NO! Er I mean, No. That isn't necessary. I- already went. Before. I forgot." He puffed out before he escorted himself back to his seat.
The counselor continued down the line as Zim tried to assume a normal posture. Sweat slicked under his wig as he continued to doodle in his notebook. His unsteady hand turned an exclamation point into a question mark as the counselor headed back towards the front, nearing the alien's desk. Zim kept his head low, avoiding all eye contact as the counselor cleared his throat, "Come on now, son. Can't be afraid of a little blood when you've drawn yourself in a pool of it."
Zim's head snapped up in confusion, "Huh? This isn't-!"
"You need relief right. Zim? This little scanner here will give it to you. Just a second out of your time." The counselor leered.
"You are now wasting both his and my time, Zim. Take off your glove and give him your hand now or else it's a three-day detention, including a Saturday session." Miss Bitters threatened.
Zim trembled as he slowly slipped off his black elbow-length glove and exposed a three-fingered hand to the scanner. The counselor's lip turned up, "When they said you had a skin condition, they were not joking." He pressed the tattooing device to the inside of Zim's palm and released, allowing the tiny inked needle to enter Zim's skin. A tiny droplet of pink blood rose and the Irken swiped it away quickly. But the counselor stared in shock at another disturbance. Slowly the dot morphed into a longer shape.
Much to the counselor's horror, the singular dot now resembled a fully inflamed question mark on Zim's palm. His gaze shot to the question mark on his opened notebook at the same time the Irken's did. They locked eyes before Zim let out an ear-piercing scream and scrambled out of his seat and out the door as the guards jumped out of his way in fright of the new discovery.
He launched his body down the hallway as fast as he possibly could; his boots were nearly leaving skid marks when he turned the corner. Zim's heart pounded in his ribcage as he peeked around the edge of the wall. When he realized that no one had followed him, he readjusted his wig and breathed out heavily. He crept down the hall, cautiously looking behind for any sign of the burly guardsmen. The walls seemed to widen as Zim finally began to calm himself. The Irken continued to sneak about the interior of the building, occasionally adhering himself to the ceiling to avoid the threat of being discovered by any other alerted academic officials. Finally, he approached the large metal doors that encased all the town's children. Tentatively he reached for a handle; he twisted it and waited for a click that would signify his escape.
'Click!'
Zim flung the door open and climbed down the stairs two at a time until his feet hit the ground of the pavement. He flashed a satisfactory and prideful grin before marching his way down the sidewalk. He took long strides, making sure not too get so cocky that he would get caught not only skipping skool but running from whatever authorities those people were. He shuddered as he studied the stark question mark that engulfed his tiny palm. He secretly thanked Irk that the prick didn't seem capable of penetrating deep enough to receive any of his own blood. In the event the humans got a hold of his alien D.N.A. he would be in serious jeopardy. His anxiety levels continued to rise as he travelled down the well-known path to his base. After some time, he replaced his glove back onto his arm and wrung his hands uneasily. The rubber of his gloves made faint squeaking sounds as the fingers underneath became slick with sweat. His heart pounded, his breathing became labored, and his feet seemed to numb as he dragged them up his sidewalk. Before he could push open the doors his spooch twisted and knotted.
The doors sprung open and his two robotparents came to greet him. Instantly his blood pressure rose, and he teetered on edge. It was unusual for the roboparents to appear at the door. They hadn't done that in nearly a year. He stepped into his abode, his mouth beginning to tingle and go slack. Zim was entirely undone before he knew it. He fought the strange feelings and peeled off his contacts and wig as a headache ravaged his brain.
Everything went blank for a second of time and then he was suddenly on his back, staring up at the fluorescent lights of a human hospital. Zim's eyes focused only slightly better before he realized he was staring up into a bright, warm light. The ceiling was a powder blue, painted almost ethereality against the light. Zim hadn't realized that what he was staring at was the sun against a bright blue sky. He hadn't realized this, and yet he could still feel his body begin to loosen, his brow start to unfurrow, and his fists resolve to unclench. The calming effect of seeing a pristine summer day in a year long passed lulled the invader back into a dark stupor as his PAK fought desperately to keep him alert. Zim felt a small sting in his right temple before he dozed into an uneasy stasis.