Dib took the opportunity to flesh out his plan. Step 2 could be moved forward, but the potential for a lethal shock without the proper context couldn't be overstated enough. There was a knock at the door. Dib glanced up.

"Dib?" Zim's voice, although he didn't exactly sound apologetic for his curtness earlier in the day. Dib still wasn't entirely sure what he'd done wrong, although he knew it had something to do with trying to get Zim's attention.

"Come in," Dib said, attention returning to the writing pad. He clicked his tongue, trying to figure out the best way to make up for lost time.

"Now don't get the wrong idea," Zim started, stepping into the room. "I'm not here to apologise." His eyes momentarily flicked away, "I'm here to ask you some questions."

"Questions?"

"Yes," Zim grumbled, "You were very excited to talk about your home, so I will ask you my questions and allow you to talk about your country. I guess."

It was a request framed as an order. Dib chuckled at the subconscious Irken mannerisms coming through the memory wipe. "Of course, Zim." He gestured to a spot on the floor across from him. The SIR unit's unused bedroom was not exactly well furnished, with a vacant twin bed in the corner and a flickering lightbulb barely keeping the room lit. Not that it mattered to either Irken, even if one of them didn't notice his own enhanced eyesight. .

"I'll start," Zim didn't sit, instead circling around behind Dib, which was a challenge considering the latter was leaning against the wall. "What's with your backpack?"

"My what?" Zim tapped Dib's PAK. "My PAK?"

"Yes, your pack. Your backpack." Zim would not leave Dib's PAK alone, futily attempting to pry it off. "I saw this morning, you were tired... and it," Zim paused, trying to find the right word, "It jolted you awake. Like an electric shock."

Dib's eyes lit up, who needed a history lesson when Zim was practically clambering to figure out Irken technology? "I can explain it to you, if you waAA—"

Dib was sent into the air on mechanical spider legs. Zim yelped and threw himself backward, staring up at Dib. "Well, now you have to!" He said, bewildered, surprised, but not scared. Curious, even. That was good. Dib pushed the center button on his PAK.

With a whirr, the legs folded back up and Dib landed lithely on his feet.

"Here," Dib pried the PAK up off his back. The tubes connecting it to his spine retracted, and it popped off. His life clock popped up in his peripheral vision. Hopefully this demonstration wouldn't take more than 10 minutes. "This is my PAK. It's…" Dib wondered how far he should go, if this should really be the first thing they discussed, but Zim was captivated so he continued. "It's like… what did you say? My backpack. It holds things—"

"Like giant mechanical spider legs?"

"Yes," Dib chuckled, "And a lot of other things as well." He opened the top, pulling out the formerly non-lethal stun gun. "Like this,"

"Yes, yes, I've seen that. I made that. Show me something new."

Dib rolled his eyes. "It's got a transmission device," Dib pulled out a small oblong metal object. "This one is short-range. I imagine you—" Dib stopped himself, Zim didn't catch his misstep, too interested in the device to pay attention.

"So it's like a cell phone?"

"A what?"

Zim pulled something from his pocket, a rectangular slab of glass and metal. Dib took it from his hands, gingerly tapping the screen. "It isn't the newest one," Zim leaned over, "But it doesn't look like you care." It wasn't high-tech by any means. Dib probably could have made a similar device as a smeet. But it was new, and interesting. Suddenly he realised how Zim must feel, blissful ignorance. Did he really want to ruin this? He thought back to the Tallests' reaction when he told them Zim lost his memories. What would they do to him if they had the motivation to?

Dib shook his head, but the thoughts didn't completely leave his mind, making their home in a small corner of his consciousness. He traded the 'cell phone' for his transmission device, putting it back in his PAK.

"It has those legs you activated," Dib said, breaking the silence. "I'm not the best at controlling them, they're more of an Inv— a military device. Regardless, they're standard issue, and the ones I have are actually a prototype."

"Really?" Zim reached out to press the button that activated the legs. Dib swatted his hand away.

"Yes, and they really shouldn't be activated when the PAK isn't attached to someone."

"Well, let me try it on," Zim reached out both hands now, and Dib yelped, pulling the PAK back towards him and letting it attach to his back.

"That is… highly inadvisable," Dib wiped his brow, leaning back against his wall. "It would… well, I have no clue what it would do to you, but nothing good."

"Why's that?" Zim huffed, folding his arms. "Is it 'cause I don't have holes in my back?"

"You don't have what?" Dib blinked. Zim must have seen it reattach. "Oh, well, not necessarily. It doesn't— you— It would certainly be an interesting experiment…" Dib stewed in that train of thought for a moment. With his PAK back his thoughts felt more organised and in order. Mission. Plan. Step 1… step 2?

Well now that you've said 'experiment', I think I'll pass."

"Do you have any more questions?" Dib asked, leaning forward again. He had to get back on track. So little time…

"Well now I've realised your society is a bit more messed up than I initially thought." Zim started, "Militaristic? Definitely. I'd wager it's a monarchy or dictatorship. And it sounds like you're being controlled by that pack of yours."

"Controlled?" Dib asked reflexively, the words hadn't even been processed.

"Well yeah, you took that thing off and you were way more… normal. Put it back on and now you're talking about experimenting on me."

"Sorry," Dib blinked, "But if you're interested in more I could certainly teach you."

"Pretty sure I gleaned the important parts." Zim shrugged. "No offense, about your… control-pack, I guess," he added, almost as an afterthought.

"Then it's my turn?" Dib had been wondering something the entire time they were talking. A thought that hadn't been reorganised when he'd put his PAK back on. "Since we were talking about my PAK, I was wondering why…" Dib hesitated, how to put this?

"Why do you always wear yours? Backpack, I mean"

"This?" Zim pulled at the straps of his backpack. If it was a disguise for his PAK it had been expertly crafted, Dib wondered why that effort hadn't been extended to the rest of his disguise. "Oh I don't know. Never really thought about it. I suppose it's a fashion statement."

"Can you take it off?"

"Obviously," Zim rolled his eyes, shrugging off the straps. The bag was almost off when Zim shuddered from some sort of shock. No doubt from his own PAK. Eyes glazed over, he pulled the straps back to his shoulders. "Well, not right now."

"Why?" Dib pressed. He didn't exactly want to see Zim get shocked again, but if it would help his mission…

"Because," Zim glared, "I'm not going to, and you can't make me."

"Okay, okay." Dib held up his hands in surrender. "What's in it, then? I showed you the things in my PAK."

"A reasonable question, finally!" Zim's hostile mood seemed to melt away, and he excitedly reached back, unzipping the bag with ease and rustling around for something interesting to share.

He pulled out two things, trying to decide which to explain first. "This one is my Game Slave 3D. Just came out last year." He held out an oddly shaped device. Dib took it, inspecting it with narrowed eyes.

"3D? This screen is clearly not capable of holographic projection." Dib noted, poking at the buttons on the lower half of the device.

"Well obviously." Zim snatched it back just as the device powered on. "It's not some sort of future-tech. It just simulates 3D by blurring the screen, or something. I haven't really looked into it."

"Seems like a waste of monies," Dib grumbled as Zim powered the device back off and placed it to the side.

"Pretending I didn't hear that," Zim said, "This is a drone."

"A drone?" Dib perked up, something of interest!

"Yeah, see I've got this controller…" Zim placed a small… thing, on the floor. "And that's the drone. When I turn it on, like so," He flipped a switch on the 'drone', and pressed a button on the controller. "It flies!" The tiny robot whirred to life and immediately launched into the air, slamming into the ceiling and falling lifeless to the floor. Dib cringed.

"Is it supposed to die?"

"Well, no. It's a little sensitive, but that's mostly because I upgraded the motors. The stock ones were way too weak. It works much better outdoors."

"I… see…" He was still more curious about Zim's PAK than the things that were coming out of it. "So there's nothing else interesting in there?"

"Well I've got this," Zim reached back, digging around for whatever it was he had in mind. Dib crawled around to look in the bag. Zim either didn't notice or didn't care.

"Your—" Dib blinked, what else would he have expected? Inside the bag, the PAK was sealed tight, firmly secured through the back of the backpack to Zim's body. Zim's hand passed over the PAK several times, but he paid it no heed, looking for something

else entirely. Completely nonfunctional as a multitool, the metal lump seemed to be providing the bare minimum life support and core personality traits to its host. He doubted it was running at half capacity, let alone full power.

"My what?" Zim glanced back at Dib, "Did you expect it to be attached to my back or something? Sorry, I don't live in a corrupt merciless regime."

"I— don't know what I expected," Dib fell back on his heels. He figured the PAK would at least retain some level of functionality, but that may have broken Zim's illusion. He shook his head, standing up and returning to the abandoned writing tablet and his seat against the wall.

"Anyway, you may be interested in this, it's a…" Dib tuned out the smaller Irken as he tried to process his thoughts. He'd never met anyone who was able to function with their PAK in such a low-power state. Maybe he should alter his course of action. With a fully functional PAK, Zim may start to recall his past on his own. Maybe if he was able to… maybe if he could… maybe…

His stream of ideas was interrupted with a scream cut short. He jolted back to the present and found Zim staring at him like he had that first day. Not nearly as on edge, and certainly not riddled with paranoia. A black box with a large lens sticking out of it sat abandoned between them.

"What?" Dib tilted his head, confused. "Did something happen?"

"A lot of my questions were certainly answered…" Zim's voice was higher pitched, he sounded almost breathless.

"Did I say something?" It wouldn't have been the first time Dib had spoken his thoughts aloud, although the last time it happened he was put on SIR repair bay duty. He could still feel the phantom burns from a particularly ruthless pair of malfunctioning bots that got ahold of a prototype flame cannon.

"You might want to— here." Zim held up the box and clicked a button at the top. The bright flash in the dim room temporarily blinded him. When his eyes recovered, Zim was still keeping his distance, but had gotten close enough to show him the image the box had captured. Oh.

Oh.

"Whoops," Dib turned the dial on his wrist. It must have gotten knocked out of position. He waited for the house computer to reprogram Zim's memories. No tube descended from the ceiling and no shock petrified Zim.

"'Whoops,' the alien says, re-enabling its disguise." Zim was on his feet now, pacing. "Deceiving the innocent children who give it food and shelter."

"You technically haven't fed me. And I'm not an 'it'," Dib groaned. Things were accelerating out of his control now.

"Mind tricks," Zim spoke to no one, coming to a stop in front of Dib. "Want to explain your mind tricks, alien?"

"My name is Dib."

"And you're a perfectly normal human worm baby." Zim rolled his eyes. "Cut it with the lies. Why are you here, what do you want with me?"

"I just—"

"You're here to experiment, aren't you!" Zim interrupted him. "Don't think I didn't catch that earlier. You want to attach your metal alien mind control device to me and make me your mind-slave!"

"That's not why I'm—"

"But you don't deny it! I watched you think about it for a solid couple of seconds there."

"Well I—"

"So, alien, if that is your name, what's with the crappy disguise?"

"Crappy?" Dib finally got a word in, "I designed this myself!" You're one to talk, he added silently.

"Well you didn't do that good of a job. I noticed pretty much immediately."

"No you didn't." Dib rolled his eyes. "I would have known if you knew."

"You have some sort of sensor in your weird bug-eyes, alien?"

"That isn't my name."

"Don't try to deceive me again, alien! You're lucky I don't shoot you right here!"

"With what weapon?" Dib raised an eyebrow.

"Yours." Zim held up the stun gun he'd 'fixed' the night before. "You just left it on the ground when we were talking." His grin was borderline scary. Dib was once again reminded that the clueless Irken before him was at one point an unstoppable death machine.

"I swear on the Ta— I swear on my life that I'm not tricking you. My name is Dib, not Alien. Why on Irk would my name be Alien?!"

"You certainly have a lot of explaining to do then, Dib." Zim spat out the word as though it were poison. "Start with the trickery. Why are you here and why haven't you laid eggs in my stomach?" He lowered the stun gun, but didn't drop it.

"I'm not— eggs in your stomach?" Dib blinked, the confusion must have been evident in his face, because Zim barked a laugh.

"No jokes, alien. Talk."

"I'm here on a… mission from my leaders. They—"

"Who are your leaders?"

"Can I talk?"

"After you answer my question."

"A mission from my leaders, the Almighty Tallest. They wanted me to—"

"Tallest?" Zim crooked an eyebrow, "Your leaders are just… taller than everyone else?"

Dib ignored the comment, "They wanted me to… scout the planet. For—"

"For an invasion? You're here to take over my planet?!"

"Of course not! I'm a scientist. I'm here to get some technology to return to the Tallest." Vague, but not deceptive. It was by all accounts the truth.

"Technology…" Zim held up the black picture box, "Like this?"

"I don't know what that is, so I assume not."

"Your ignorance is a lot more understandable," Zim sighed, "It's a camera. It takes pictures. Like this one." He clicked the button again, the flash once again incapacitating Dib for a couple of seconds. "Next question! Why was your disguise so bad?"

"It isn't bad."

"Anything that can be turned off if someone bumps into you on the street is bad."

"How did you turn it off?"

"I was trying to get your attention and hit your little watch thing by accident. Fundamentally flawed mechanism."

Dib thought about it for a moment. Zim did, surprisingly, have a point. "Duly noted," he sighed. "I sincerely apologise for my deception."

"I somehow doubt that, but the apology is accepted." Zim seemed to have finally calmed down, sitting back on the floor and placing the stun gun to the side. "Then you were drawn to Professor Membrane's keynote this weekend? Some sort of alien 6th sense?"

The presentation! Dib's entire excuse for being here! He'd all but forgotten about it, getting caught up in his work. "Uhhh... yes." It fell within the week he gave the Tallest. It could be worth a visit even if only to keep up appearances. Although Dib didn't exactly have high hopes for the advanced properties of such technology given when Zim had put on proud display.

"Well I'm not sure how I feel about an alien living in my home for a week..." Zim looked away, speaking to himself but not lowering his voice. "But I suppose it could be... Alien!" Zim looked back at Dib, who jumped at Zim's shout.

"Still not my name," Dib noted to deaf ears— antennae?— "What?"

"I will make a deal with you. You can stay here until the Membrane presentation but only if you show me all of your cool space tech."

Dib felt some latent tension dissipate. One less thing he had to worry about. "Agreed. But I—"

"Wonderful." Zim reached out too quickly for Dib to react. He really wasn't trained for this kind of stuff. "We start with this!" He yanked the holo disguise unit off of Dib's wrist. His human facade flickered away but Zim didn't care, intently focused on the little wristband dangling from his hand.