Chapter Twenty One~ Act One: Red Herrings

The group had gone ahead some time later. They no longer seemed startled from their findings as much as they were enlightened. Fear built character but mastering fears built bravery, it was a proverb Minimoose remembered back during his travels. It would have been nice to share it with his visitors, but they all seemed fairly occupied with their discussion. Anything he had to offer would probably baffle them even more.

Zim not properly introducing him to his friends was a little disheartening. Zim looked distracted, which was really saying something. The others must have identified Minimoose's design and concluded that he came from Zim's dimension. Hastily, Zim provided Minimoose's name and occupation and the mysterious circumstances that placed Minimoose as a supposed Core.

Going into details would be saved for later. The Headmaster wasn't due to wake up until Monday but the Elite clearly had something in store for the following weekend. But first, there was the dilemma of communication. They knew the Headmaster had access to the Grid and speaking to her directly was easily out of the question.

Before Minimoose could offer a helpful squeak, Yin headed past the Headmaster to the hidden tunnel right behind her. She stuck her hand into the portal and called everyone to follow her down. Then they left, leaving Minimoose alone once again. Which did make him sad or at least as sad as he was allowed to be.

Minimoose was not created to show a variety of emotion. He could be persuasive and excitable when the time came for it. Fearful? Not part of his description. Obedient creations of destruction like himself weren't meant to be scared of anything.

But what he was feeling now, the emotions that were often stirring during his time as a Core, were so prevalent as of late. For once, he could identify fear, doubt, and the woes of sadness. This was the anguish poets of the olden days cherished, what made them artists to begin with.

My, how he pitied humans who had to cope with these feelings so often. If he had the ability to do so, he'd probably be crying, frowning, grimacing…He did have a broad dictionary of terms stacked away in his memory banks. Too bad they came of such minor use with his limited vocabulary. Only the Headmaster truly appreciated his linguistics lately.

Or did she?

The Headmaster was…dense and bizarrely operative even from his standards. The Vortians seemed more lenient with mental freedom. Even the Irkens despite their tyrannical reign that was haunting most of the galaxy at this rate. Minimoose knew how to cooperate but he could still comprehend disobedience. Gir had taught him that on multiple occasions.

He envied the S.I.R at times-the robot's lack of guilt, unending appetite for human pleasures, how often he could laugh and destroy to his own free will. It was simply fascinating to watch. Minimoose had learned over these past few months what it truly meant to be an ally. How easy it was to fall into slavery and imprisonment from one's own miseries.

Miseries wrought on by standards. Standards seemed to exist everywhere he had traveled. No matter how vast or lifeless the dimensions may have seemed, they were confined by rules that let their reality exist only to a certain degree. Stretching beyond that boundary ended tragically, as he'd been told.

It always started with fractures, leading to literal cracks large enough rip their way into the fragile structure of the Universe. Then the dimension would become…nothing. If they didn't give way to a wormhole or black hole or one of those pretty golden holes, then their essence would be left as empty and shallow as those who opposed their dimension's limits.

Minimoose didn't think it was fair. Why did a place that harbored so many lives had to be reduced to nothingness? The nothingness wasn't as scary as the Elite thought it was, but it certainly wasn't very nice. Those poor people disintegrating into butterflies and dust never smiled.

They screamed. Sometimes they bled and begged for mercy no matter how beautiful their demise was. The Headmaster once it was the "Mother's Duty" to perform such a heinous task.

That becoming stardust that constructed the Royal's flowing gowns was truly an honor. Their tears made the Royal's weapon's gleam so brightly and screams crystalized to white matter would keep the clouds overhead New Eden round and drifting. There was no such thing as suffering, the Headmaster had said, only difficult transitions.

And apparently, everyone underwent a difficult transition at some point in their life. Crying and protesting were only signs of how stubborn people can be about those changes. But he was sure Zim's cries of pain when receiving his mark wasn't the perils of transitions.

Zim was suffering and so were his comrades. They were scared of what the Headmaster really was. They couldn't bring themselves to stand by her goals and her ongoing pursuit for this New Eden. And Minimoose found himself agreeing with him.

But what was he to do? Protest? Rebel?

No, he couldn't. Not possible. That was a job for the Elite and if they did succeed, maybe his coordinates that spelled out the definition of "faith" could be properly expressed with only a squeak.

"…So as I was saying, the Headmaster could only truly be a robot if she was entirely mechanical. Like Gir, or something."

"So is she a cyborg?"

"Most likely not," Dib replied. "To be that, she'd have to be purely human but with mechanical implants. What we're dealing with here, Frida, is an android: mechanical but designed to look human."

"Wow, Dib," Yuck said. "Thank you so much for giving us that long lecture all the way down this tunnel. I really needed the background music."

"I thought I could clear up the confusion," Dib said, shrugging. "If the Headmaster's our enemy the least we can do is know what she actually is."

"And if she is an android, she must be pretty powerful," Manny said. "Notice how all these cords are connected to her? And something tells me that there are plenty more we haven't seen yet."

"These ones are about the biggest," Yang turned to his sister. "Do you know where this place leads?"

"I'm not sure. I am doing all of this on instinct." Yin stopped to see yet another wall at the end of the path. The cords they followed like a path had burrowed themselves underground.

"Ugh, a dead end?" Yang said.

"But that doesn't make any sense," Dib said. "Why would they have a hidden entrance that didn't lead anywhere?"

"Perhaps that's the point, Dib-stink," Zim said. "A way to deceive anyone who managed to see the portal from the beginning."

Yin gently guided her hand into the wall to have it be swallowed entirely. "A good idea but nothing I haven't read about before. Come on."

The upcoming room was clearly more presentable than the Headmaster's lair. It was entirely white with screens consistent in build and lettering, all leading up to an oversized computer that buzzed aimlessly into the square, empty room.

"An android and a master computer," Yang murmured. "Did we walk into a sci-fi movie or what?"

"Any chance this might be linked to the Headmaster?" Manny asked, walking over to the computer that radiated warmth as it lightly vibrated.

"It must be, the wires don't seem to lead anywhere else." Frida stood beside him and pressed a random key, causing the machine to jolt and speak in response, Welcome to the Grid, the best Utopian communication software for the best dimension. What would you like to tell your people today?

"A Grid Activation Board," Frida said. "It's just a big computer."

"The Headmaster's supposed to be the only one allowed to use this. But now that we've found it…" Manny smirked to himself as he passed his gaze over to Frida.

"We could use this easily," Dib broke into a smile as he walked over to the machine, already cracking his fingers to prepare a first draft. "The only way we can reach the students is to speak to them secretly."

"And from there we can set up the plan without the Headmaster even knowing." Yuck added. Dib selected the option for Academy Phone text messages and typed away on a blank word document.

"We'll need to be brief," Yin said. "Try to give some instructions without being too…wordy."

Dib nodded. "Don't worry, I've got the hang of this."

Dib's fingers moved erratically over the keyboard, spacing and entering and bulleting lists and paragraphs that spelled an oath of revolution and tactics inspired from guerrilla warfare. One section talked of protest marches, the other of dismantling any Elite propaganda and ignoring any requests of a new perfect world the Headmaster may try to distract them with.

Dib's smirk was wide and confident, spreading close to his ears by the time his hand hovered over the "send" key. "I hope the students are up for an all-nighter."

It was strange how spacious Utopian Resources really was, even with so many people now residing in it. The room normally contained few people, making the area seem strangely smaller than it truly was. There were only seven chairs, of course, evenly distributed around the flat table still beaming light that seemed to entrance those who looked at it.

There had to be at least-ten, fifteen-at least twenty people with some generous rounding. They didn't seem to mind the lack of seating. Those who did sit in the chairs would stand within seconds to look at whatever intrigued them. And what did intrigued them changed every few seconds.

Dib's entrance was acknowledged but not exactly anticipated. Some students were still scowling, uttering insults under their breath as he walked past them. Not that Dib wasn't use to it. It really brought him back to the good old days back at Skool.

Home, sweet home.

Dib sat in a free chair at the desk and clasped his hands formally. He'd seen his dad do it a few times at meetings. It made him look professional, enough. Dib hadn't been to many of the conferences, but watching from television screens and cracks through doors as an infant gave him all the knowledge he needed about appearances.

"This better be good, Dib," A somewhat strongly built female said, "I skipped out on my morning practice for this."

"And I have a chess club meeting in ten minutes." A somewhat mousy looking Second Year said. Today was a Saturday after all, a day normally spent towards clubs and any other social activity twenty four seven. With no academics to properly monitor and no use for teachers until Monday morning, the rebellion would be its own surprise for an unsuspecting staff.

"I know you guys aren't happy to be up at this hour," Dib assured. "This arrangement was set at this time for justified reasons, things I'll be more than happy to explain later. Now, you guys are at least wearing a Spore now, right?"

Nods and a few words of agreement came out from the crowd. Dib knew getting the students to wear Elite technology would be a tricky task but the anti-sleep device was a golden ticket for both parties. It was hastily made and went against biological rhythms, but that was beside the point.

Even at such an early hour when the sun was now rising, the students would be alert enough to take on any tasks Dib required. All he needed was a little attentiveness, people to listen and follow instructions for only two days.

"As you all know, it's a primarily Elite job to construct a new Utopia. And though my group has been succeeding, we ran into some…bumps along the road, I guess. Anyway, it's come to all of our attention that this Utopia and other plans we have arranged can't be made with such a small group. We're going to need some help and you guys seem capable."

"Wait, we're helping you make a new Utopia?" A girl Dib couldn't quite see said.

"Why would more people helping make it any better?" Another voice added.

"Our Headmaster has said to us that diversity is the key to a peaceful society. If you look around you'll see athletes, fighters, artists, musicians-all kinds of different students that I think will need some representation in the new Utopia, our New Eden to be more specific."

About the smallest girl in the group smiled. "That's a pretty name."

"Uh, not that is a bad idea or anything, but how are we supposed to help you? I mean, in terms of the rooms design…" A boy in the front said.

"Way ahead of you." Dib took out his stylus from his pocket. "Our newest Elite members will need some proper seating."

"So, everyone is the Elite for now on?"

"Yes,"

"And we're sneaking this past the Headmaster until it eventually blows up in her face?"

"Yes,"

"Damn, talk about sneaky," Frida said, smiling. "And I thought the Spores would be useless at this point."

Yin shrugged. "I guess that's kind of the point, for nothing to seem useless anymore. Everything's important even if it isn't perfect. Ooh, that'll be a nice finish!"

Yin rapidly typed another few sentences into her phone. Frida hadn't gotten a decent view for privacy sake but there must have been a declaration worth of paragraphs filling the screen at this point. Yin simply wasn't one to go about plans without something written down.

Frida felt a buzz travel down her hip and she took out her own phone. "Dib's got the newest Elite members riled up in Resources and…" She scrolled down more. "He says they're making good progress. At this rate we'll have at least a quarter of the city finished by January."

"The more the merrier," Yin clicked away the document and stood up from her place on the floor. "I'm normally not one for encouraging something like this…"

"Well this 'something' is totally a good deed," Frida said, patting Yin's back as she stood up. "The only thing getting hurt are the Headmaster's morals."

The hallways both girls were standing in was nothing short of a Utopian nightmare. The art students were no longer sentenced to their canvases and sketchbooks, upgrading to something a bit more spacious. The walls were practically begging to be painted on. And the piles of snow outside made for excellent inspiration for what could be a permanent Christmas mural.

Whatever antics that were occurring outside was enough to draw attention from still sleeping students, an open welcome to join in decorated paper towel and streamer throwing. The pictures Manny sent to her showed that the outside décor was actually measuring up to something truly artistic. Whatever ambiguous substance the balloons were filled with slicked over the walls with thin ice, nothing even Utopia's nature could create naturally.

But the greatest masterpiece was behind the building. Where the forest was the densest but curved into a half circle with a bit of trimming, was a funeral service for the fallen students during the massacre. All along the fields were ribbons and photographs, praises and prayers written from friends and parting gifts from devastated parents. Speaking of the parents, this addition received especially good reviews in the newest Adult Edition newsletter.

And right before the display of flowers and grayscales headshots were the words, "If at first you don't succeed, you're still Elite" written in paint along the wall. A stage was currently under construction from a few future architects, a special ending for tonight's grand finale.

By midnight, all students would be heading to the Elite Horror Picture Show, an event taking place in the cemetery for the Headmaster's true form to be revealed. The day was all about exciting the crowd while the night was saved for installing genuine anger and betrayal. All for good reason, of course.

"Yuck, it's okay if you rather not do this. I know it's a little silly."

"Aw, worried about my reputation? Really sweet of you, Yin."

Yin rolled her eyes, tossing the final piece of dark fabric over to Yuck, a gesture that looked more playful than aggressive. "I'm sure any reputation you have can't be any good."

The day had finally drawn to midnight, hours of redecorating the school with paint and handmade ornaments leading to a more eerie night all the more secretive than the earlier events. Right now was all about setting a mood, something sinister and scary that only the drama students could properly arrange. Everyone was near the back walls of the school, sitting in a circle or by a significant tribute photo for added effect. If they weren't watching the dancers or multitasking with an instrument in one hand and a finger food in the other, they were lighting candles or trying to clumsily follow the choreography.

The others were busy passing out t-shirts or instruments or looking around the school to double check for anyone deciding to sleep in. This left Yin behind the stage, prepping herself by faded light in a tall mirror. Her and Yuck would be the leads of the little performance.

The slideshow, the "Picture" of their Picture Show, would be commencing in a few minutes. Frida provided the ambience, Dib provided the writing, and Zim would be the voice. There weren't many who could muster something quite as booming and dramatic as his speech. If they could use Yuck's natural terror over innocent children, Zim's effortless flow of dramatic linguistics would only ensure something truly gripping.

Yuck wore an assortment of layered black satin that draped over his arms and waist in diligent patterns a handful of Second Year fashion designers pulled out at the last minute. Scarves resembling wisps of smoke were wrapped around his arms, a few metallic bands holding them in place. He had protested against the makeup but the powder along his face and exposed hands wrought on the perfect, undead look. A bit of eyeliner expertly smudged by the artist created shadows that drew as much attention to his eyes as possible. The finishing touch was a skull inspired headdress dangling with feathers and a set of horns curved and sharpened to long, fine points.

And he looked…beautiful.

Well, as beautiful as a foul smelling entity of negativity could look. Not like it mattered.

No. Not at all.

If Yuck was the dark, Yin was light. A veil was draped over her head, cinching at her neck and reaching down to her daisy wrapped ankles. A gown of gold ended where her knees began, the skirt flailing out like a ballerina with a few layers of lace bunching at her thighs. The stylist was especially generous with the ribbons-silky, platinum bows forming roses along the bend of her ears and the narrow slope of her waist.

The generous fluff running down what excuse puberty gave her for hips pulled the whole look together, feminine and flattering to her petite body. Especially the gilded corset running up to a transparent turtleneck collar. A dab of gold eye shadow, a little lipstick, and she was something of a bride that wandered off the set of Swan Lake.

"Now that I think about it," Yuck said. "You and I do look a lot like a bride and groom."

"What?"

"Not traditional or anything, but y'know…the color scheme." He gestured towards Yin with a limp wrist, barley hiding the hint of a smile that made Yin immediately regret her secret compliment.

"I-It's supposed to be a contrast," Yin said a bit too quickly. "Night and day, good and bad-Ugh, I'm not going to waste my time telling you something obvious."

"You're blushing right through your make up, my bride."

"Shut up!"