Zim And G.I.R. chapter five
Zim dashed down to his lab, carrying G.I.R. He set the little robot down on a counter. "Computer! G.I.R.'s been hurt, and it's really bad! I need help!" A robotic arm lifted G.I.R. and placed it on a small thing resembling a stretcher. It started rolling, Zim closely following. The arm lifted G.I.R. into a small air tank. "Sir, there is really nothing more that we can do. You can try, if you want." "What?!?!?" screamed Zim. "What kind of computer ARE you?!?!?!" Zim sighed, and took G.I.R. out of the air tank. He got his tools, and gently opened G.I.R.'s head. "Oh no...he's lost a LOT of oil..." Zim immediately called, "Computer! Bring me about a gallon of oil on the double!" In seconds a bucket of oil was on the table next to G.I.R. Zim first checked to see it was the right kind. It was. Zim was glad he'd went to Invader School. In Invader School, all Irkens are taught how to invade, but every Irken specialized in a topic. Zim specialized in mechanics. He opened G.I.R.'s mini oil can inside him for emergencies only, and filled it up to the top. Then, just in case, he put an Irken paralysis on G.I.R.'s body. He then started fixing the dent in G.I.R.'s head with a hammer. When that was done, Zim sighed. "So far, so good." Using a screwdriver, he fastened G.I.R.'s head back on. "Computer, bring me a small bathtub and another gallon of oil." The computer thought the request was a tad strange, but soon the items were on the table. "OK..." Zim poured the oil into the bathtub, then put G.I.R. in. It always helped robots to soak in oil. He thoroughly washed G.I.R. in the oil, dried it off, then put it in the air tank again. G.I.R. looked as good as new, except for the fact its eyes were black and it wasn't moving. "Computer, every five minutes report G.I.R.'s condition to me starting now," said Zim. "G.I.R. is in stable condition." "Good!" said Zim. He walked to the tube that would take him back upstairs, but then the computer urgently said, "G.I.R. has slipped back into critical condition!" "What?!" screamed Zim. He ran to G.I.R.'s air tank. "It looks fine to me, what's wrong?" asked Zim. "It's suffering a severe allergic reaction from that oil. He wasn't fully healed when he started suffering the effects. Chances are, sir, I'm sorry to say, it's not going to make it." "What? That was the right kind! No!" Zim said. He attached a sort of robot heart rate monitor to G.I.R.'s chest. His 'heart' was not good. It sped up so fast it would have been a straight beepbeepbeepbeepbeep on a human heart monitor, then it slowed so much it almost flatlined. "Come on, G.I.R.! You can make it..." Zim whispered, completely forgetting his 'Never show emotion' rule for himself. G.I.R.'s 'heart' finally got steady. "Whew," sighed Zim. Suddenly, it stopped. Completely flat-lining. The computer had put the robotic hand on Zim's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, sir...for sure he's gone."
Zim dashed down to his lab, carrying G.I.R. He set the little robot down on a counter. "Computer! G.I.R.'s been hurt, and it's really bad! I need help!" A robotic arm lifted G.I.R. and placed it on a small thing resembling a stretcher. It started rolling, Zim closely following. The arm lifted G.I.R. into a small air tank. "Sir, there is really nothing more that we can do. You can try, if you want." "What?!?!?" screamed Zim. "What kind of computer ARE you?!?!?!" Zim sighed, and took G.I.R. out of the air tank. He got his tools, and gently opened G.I.R.'s head. "Oh no...he's lost a LOT of oil..." Zim immediately called, "Computer! Bring me about a gallon of oil on the double!" In seconds a bucket of oil was on the table next to G.I.R. Zim first checked to see it was the right kind. It was. Zim was glad he'd went to Invader School. In Invader School, all Irkens are taught how to invade, but every Irken specialized in a topic. Zim specialized in mechanics. He opened G.I.R.'s mini oil can inside him for emergencies only, and filled it up to the top. Then, just in case, he put an Irken paralysis on G.I.R.'s body. He then started fixing the dent in G.I.R.'s head with a hammer. When that was done, Zim sighed. "So far, so good." Using a screwdriver, he fastened G.I.R.'s head back on. "Computer, bring me a small bathtub and another gallon of oil." The computer thought the request was a tad strange, but soon the items were on the table. "OK..." Zim poured the oil into the bathtub, then put G.I.R. in. It always helped robots to soak in oil. He thoroughly washed G.I.R. in the oil, dried it off, then put it in the air tank again. G.I.R. looked as good as new, except for the fact its eyes were black and it wasn't moving. "Computer, every five minutes report G.I.R.'s condition to me starting now," said Zim. "G.I.R. is in stable condition." "Good!" said Zim. He walked to the tube that would take him back upstairs, but then the computer urgently said, "G.I.R. has slipped back into critical condition!" "What?!" screamed Zim. He ran to G.I.R.'s air tank. "It looks fine to me, what's wrong?" asked Zim. "It's suffering a severe allergic reaction from that oil. He wasn't fully healed when he started suffering the effects. Chances are, sir, I'm sorry to say, it's not going to make it." "What? That was the right kind! No!" Zim said. He attached a sort of robot heart rate monitor to G.I.R.'s chest. His 'heart' was not good. It sped up so fast it would have been a straight beepbeepbeepbeepbeep on a human heart monitor, then it slowed so much it almost flatlined. "Come on, G.I.R.! You can make it..." Zim whispered, completely forgetting his 'Never show emotion' rule for himself. G.I.R.'s 'heart' finally got steady. "Whew," sighed Zim. Suddenly, it stopped. Completely flat-lining. The computer had put the robotic hand on Zim's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, sir...for sure he's gone."