Author's Note: Zim will be quite OC in this story, as I am trying to find logical reasoning for most of his, and the other Irken's actions , which will be interesting to say the least ^_^; Don't expect regular updates. I suck. Happy reading~
Time: I've decided that a Cycle (Irken year) will be equivalent to just under 10 Earth years.
And so it begins
The history of the Irkens was a long one. Millions of cycles had passed since the first Massive had been created, thousands since the Irken race had been established as the main superpower in the universe, and only a scant twenty cycles since a certain egg had been artificially fertilized. One cycle later, the Irken Zim had hatched.
That day was called "Horrible Painful Overload Day". An uncreative name for an interesting phenomenon, though little analysis was put into the reasoning behind why it happenedgt, and much anger geared toward the one who caused it.
When the newly-hatched zim had been placed on the downloading seat, wires already snaked into his freshly-attached pak, his mind was already whirling with interest toward the events that were happening. He displayed awareness toward his enviornment, despite the lack of any information coming from the complex mechanical device intertwined with his primary nerve bundles. All the machine would provide him, was his name (ZIM!), Identification number, and a quickly opening link that the control brains would soon be sending more information through.
The reason for interest was the fact that he was displaying awareness at all. In the few short seconds between the semi-concious state of developing larval form, to the sudden electric shock that jolted the brain into full activity and transport to the downloading chair, the irken Zim was already observing, analyzing and understanding his surroundings.
Even the sounds received by his antennae, Irken, yet so very unreal, were understood. The sounds of faraway electricity, the fluttering in his squeedlyspooch as it adjusted to processing pure atmosphere, and even the sight of a withdrawing machine were taken in.
"Welcome to life, Irken Child. Report for duty"
"I love you, cold, unfeeling robot arm!"
His expression of gratitude toward the thing that let him out of the suspension liquid and gave him life was ignored. Autotmated equitment did not respond to audible stimuli.
The sudden rush of information swept into the pak, dark pink eyes widening with both comprehension and confusion with the input
Mathimatical formulas, history, his projected job status based, a list of conquered planets, the height-based ruler ship, scientific laws and data and theories, and suddenly, a flood of useless information. How much snacks cost at foodcourtia, current number of archivists sloted for jobs managing the electronic database, and the exact height of every Irken currently connected to the Control Brains.
Useless!
His eyes narrowed, and he announced his displeasure, manually overriding the input of data. Cutting off the connection, he seperated the majority of the crap, leaving what was interesting and relevent to continuing development. His mind was set on warfare and destruction. Anything that could not be used in such a manner was completely and utterly useless.
With only a second of dely, an electronic arm sweapt over to his position, opening shining claws to drag him to a conveyer belt leading to the dressing stations and assignment level . With a quick dodge to the side that strained his newly-awoken legs, he avoided the claw and shoved to the side, another new irken who was readying for the information download. He ignored the loud wail as his fellow newlyborn fell into a dark tube, turning angrily to the computer and grabbed ahold of the retreating download wires, jamming them back into his pak. With a flicker of thought, his pak whirred to life, sending back the useless and faulty information to the Control Brains, along with an in-depth analysis on WHY it was wrong, using what other information he had, as well as an inquiry why the new smeets were provided such a faulty download. The Irkens were a race for conquest and igniting terror. He did not need the seven hundred flavors of cola to annihilate a planet.
Just as he stopped the link, he felt a rumble tear through the metal under his clawed feet, followed by a brillaint flash of light.
The sharp blast of heat took him mildly by surprise, and he jumped down onto the conveyer belt, turning to watch as a series of explosions rocked the transportation tubes for newly awakened smeets, not feeling any remorse as he concluded that their bodies must have backed up, leading to machanical malfunction.
With a series of clicks, the lights around him suddenly shut down, darkness enveloping him. Only the faint lilac glow of the incubation chamber's emergency power indecators led his way as he station where he was to be clothed in the standard irken uniform. He ignored the curious pink and red eyes blinking at him as he passed the other, stationary, newborn irkens. Pulling on his uniform like the digitial diagram in his pak showed, he hopped down to the next level of platforms, ignoring the chaotic screaming and frantic scrambling of robots and older irkens. The long line of newly updated and clothed younglings were trying to refrain from fidgeting, immensely curious on what had caused the blackout.
Zim did nothing, merely stand at the end of the line with an unreadable look in his half-closed pink eyes, his antennae erect and tilted forward. He felt the vibrations of others moving around him, smelled the anxiety in the air with the sensitive black stalks, and wondered why the control brains had not sent machines or workers up to fix those broken parts yet.
Unknown to him, the Control Brains were currently trying to deal with the surge of information he had sent their way. Normally, that level of data emission would not be a problem. After all, the Control Brains were very adept at proccessing massive amounts of information, very accurately. They were programmed that way, after all.
However, when a section of their technology was set for outbut, they fully expected it to be used for output.
Not the other way around.
So, when a sudden surge of information flooded an area that was only used to proccessing a set amount of visual stimuli (here is the pak plug, enter, start download) You can expect things to get a bit messy.
The brains were beginning to move the information to a section more adept in processing and analyzing data, when another surge was received from a different source. Complaints, documentation and worried comments that the power had gone out assaulted the Control Brains from every area of Irk, as well as some colorful insults from some of the more touchy technitions and scientists who really did not enjoy being cut off from power, halfway through an experiment or while altering plasma cannons.
They ensured that the most important features (Enviornmental control, Smeet development tubes, communication equitment) were still online, and begam working on sorting out this whole mess.
Meanwhile, an automated drone patrolled down the line of now-saluting Irken younglings, a thin red lazer preforming a full-body scan while working with the pak's analysis of it's host's body gave the Irkens an assigned duty and a short addition to the identification number. Each youngling trotted toward it's exit, using spiderlegs to get where electronic lifts would no longer take them.
When the drone reached Zim, he felt a faint wash of energy over his antennae, and twitched them both to dispell the feeling. His magenta eyes were unable to detect the low frequency light pulsing against him, though he saw the faintly buzzing projector move lower, with a quick wash back up.
"Irken Zim"
It declared, in the same electronic, monotone voice it used for every other assigning.
"You are assigned to the Irken Academy, where you will train until you either reach the level of invader, or grow tall enough to advance to the level of War Tactition or Military Officer training".
He blinked once, nodding once to the robot and headed toward the exit that would lead to the transport bay.
He approached the ship destined for one of the many planets the Irken empire used as training grounds, noting the date. It was an important day, after all.
The day Zim was officially born.
One cycle after his genes were artificially mixed and formed into a living egg.
Two cycles after Tallest Miyuki was appointed leader.
A half cycle later, full power was restored to Planet Irk.
The Control brains called that day, "Horrible, Painful Overload day"
And so, the nightmare began.