Disclaimer: "Bright Eyes" lyrics are by Art Garfunkel. Interestingly, this song was used in the animated 1978 film, Watership Down, based on Richard Adams' war allegory (btw, I loved the book and the movie). The song happens when the brother of the main character goes in search of him when all the others believe him to be dead. Just thought I'd share that ;)

Correction: Mazda makes Protégés NOT Ford. This is so embarrassing since my mother owns one!

***

Three Days Later . . ..

So much noise and light. Hiding behind a booth unobscured by a glass wall failed to block it out nor did he expect it to. Rather he liked it. Made him feel safe in a weird kind of way.

Safe. He repeated the word to himself softly. His eyes followed the movements of the human waitresses moving about from table to table. Around seven a crowd had started streaming in non-stop and it was keeping the restaurant up in arms. Amazing so many humans in one place, coming together in one location for the sole purpose of eating.

The phenomenon fascinated him. Imagine wanting to eat around a whole bunch of strangers. Imagine having the power to order about a human drone to get you any type of food you wanted and neither the drone nor the human who wielded this power even thought anything of it. It was just life. The way it'd always been for as long as the short history of these creatures could remember.

They're all so young, Zim thought wonderingly. He winced when a waiter accidentally dropped a dish, causing a temporary bout of chaos as the china made a horrible racket falling to the floor. Young and clumsy. Look at the primitiveness in which they serve food. A superior race would not use such mundane . . .

I'm doing it again.

Zim sighed. Old habits died hard. He returned his attention to Gir who was sitting across from the Irken stuffing his face. The little robot has just consumed the biggest burrito in the world and was now delicately licking his hands, being ridiculously dainty about it. The plate was licked shiny clean.

Gir heard the exhalation and glanced at his master. The alien looked sad. Master is sad, the droid reflected. I know! He stuck his thumbs at the sides of his head and made a face.

Nothing. Zim wasn't even really looking at him. More like he was looking through him.

Okay. I try this one! Gir pulled at his doggie suit's ears and made them round. He reached behind himself and yanked on his tail so it became really long. "Look! I'm Mickey Mouse!" He did a perfect inflection since his own voice was already high and squeaky to begin with. "Want me to sing the theme song?"

Success. Zim managed a small, barely there smile. "No thanks, Gir."

"Awwww." Gir made a face and pulled his suit's features back into place. "No fair. Oh well. Can I have another burrito?"

"You've had six already." 

"But I want another one!"

"Well, you can't have another one." Zim signaled the waitress who'd served them. "Miss?"

"Yes?" she said pertly, coming over. She was a make-up clad blonde job with all the cliches to go with it.

"Can I have the bill?"

"Sure!" Off she went, all smiles despite the fact she'd been serving customers for over seven hours. One had to admire her tenaciousness.

"Why not?" Gir looked all pouty.

"Because I said so." The waitress returned with the bill. Zim's eyes bugged out when he read it.

"Aw man," the robot whined. "I like burritos. I have to have them or I'll explode!"

"Well, I'm sorry," Zim said sharply counting out three twenties and placing them on the table. "Accept no for an answer."

Gir frowned and sat back, folding his little arms. "You're mean."

Hearing this unexpected retort from his servant, Zim blinked several times. "Gir, now really . . ." he admonished.

"You are! You're always mean to me!" The robot's facial expression didn't change. "All the time!"

Zim got mad. "I am not mean to you  . . . all the time!" He paused and tried to make sense of it. "Just when you're being stupid about things."

"Not all the time." Gir replied astutely. "You used to be nice. But then you got mean."

Very confused, Zim tapped his chin. "When did I get mean?"

Gir was blunt. "After big head boy died."

Zim sat back in his seat, taking the heavy-handed reply in. After a bit, he simply nodded and stood. "Let's go."

Gir hopped down, all former resentment evaporated like yesterday's rain. "Yay! Let's blow something up!"

"Not tonight." Zim pushed out of the restaurant. He paused outside the door to attach a dog leash to Gir's collar. "Where do you want to go now?" He tried to sound cheerful and eager.

Gir thought hard and then brightened. "I want to look at the exploding lights!" He meant fireworks.

Zim checked the time. "The baseball game ends in ten minutes. I guess they'll be shooting them off soon."

Gir giggled. "Baseball! Hey, remember last time I caught the ball?"

"Yes. Then you ate it."

The SIR just kept snickering. "Baseballs are yummy."

Zim shrugged and gave the leash a tug. "Let's go."

Gir danced around the marching Irken, excitedly taking in the evening sights and sounds of downtown. He gawked at the taxis and the blaring stereos of passing teenager filled cars. He pointed at the odder things like sidewalk sales, fat ladies, a can in the gutter and a man who entertained street crowds with his card tricks. Everything fascinated the robot about human culture. It was his element, his livelihood. His master's indifference and loathing toward it always confused the simple-minded robot. Why hate something so big and so wonderful? He tried to convey his happy, silly views by grinning at his master from ear to ear. All he got in response was that same, sad smile he'd taken to wearing whenever Gir tried to cheer him up.

"C'mon, master, the exploding lights will cheer you up!" Gir piped. "They make me happy!" He giggled wildly as he skipped along.

"Why do they make you happy, Gir?" Zim wanted to know. It was part automatic response and part wanting to know.

"They're pretty! And they explode!" Gir snickered. "I like the colors." He thought a second. "Don't they make you happy?"

"Never thought about it." Zim replied absently, not really paying attention. He paused before a strip mall window. There was an advertisement poster for the new UFO museum that was going to be built on the west side. Somehow that made him remember faint traces of a conversation he'd overheard once.

"I can't wait till they build the museum, Gaz! Finally someone's decided to take these things seriously!"

"They're just building it to make money, Dib. They're not taking anything seriously."

"Oh you just don't understand!"  

Zim made himself move on. Gir stared at the advert a second longer before an encouraging tug on the leash reminded him to keep up.

"I have to stop remembering," he said aloud. "I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Gir asked.

"Remembering."

"Remembering what? Remembering is good cos I wouldn't know where to find my tacos!" Gir mugged happily. "I forget sometimes."

Zim patted Gir on the head, which surprised the droid a little. He'd never known his master to be the affectionate type. In good nature, he patted his master on the arm in return.

"There it is!" Gir squeaked as the stadium came into sight. "Can we go all the way up to the top like last time?"

In answer, Zim's spider legs came out.

"Yay!" Gir clapped his paws together.

***

CRACK!

"HE DID IT!" screamed the loudspeakers to the point of static. "HOME RUN!"

Zim and Gir, from their perch on the highest seats closest to the sky, tilted their heads back as they watched the tiny object sail into the night sky. The crowd went wild, throwing up their hands, stamping feet, tossing food, doing whatever it took to express incensed glee at someone else's victory. Way down below, the human player who had hit the ball with his stick was running around the diamond shaped area while humans on the sidelines urged him on. When he slid into what was oddly called 'home base' the crowd got even crazier. At one point, a renegade hotdog came out of nowhere and beaned Zim in the nose. He picked up the offending piece of processed meat and threw it over his shoulder.

"Yippee! Outta da park!" Gir hopped up and down. "I'm gonna go find the ball, 'kay?" Rockets sprouted out his back and he vanished before Zim could give an ode of permission.

"Wait! You'll miss the . . ." Gir was gone though, "exploding lights. Ah well . . . " Zim trailed off and shrugged. Why expect anything else from someone with the attention span of a gnat?

(Is it a kind of dream,

Floating out on the tide,

Following the river of death downstream?

Oh, is it a dream?)

Let's try a little enthusiasm. Zim picked up a stray pennant lying near his feet and waved it. "Yay. We win." Not working. The pennant dangled from his fingers uselessly and he let it fall back to the ground. "I don't understand this," he finally said aloud. "Nothing got destroyed."

"Destruction doesn't necessarily cue victory."

"I know," he replied to the unspoken statement. "But what is the point?!"

"It's entertainment, Zim."

"Entertainment? All of THIS is to AMUSE?"

"Yeah, basically."

"That's stupid!"

"No, it's not. It's culture. It's just different."

(There's a fog along the horizon,

A strange glow in the sky.

And nobody seems to know where you go,

And what does it mean?

Oh, is it a dream?)

"Oh what would you know. . . wah!" Zim jerked back when he turned to speak to whatever was apparently addressing him. It was Dib. He held up his hands defensively. "No! You're dead!"

Dib shrugged. He was sitting in Gir's vacated seat. "Yes, I'm dead."

"B-But you're here! You're right THERE!" He pointed right at the seat.

The human shook his head. "No, I'm not here. You're just imagining me. This is all in your head."

"Are you a ghost then?"

"No, Zim. I'm not a ghost. I told you, I'm a manifestation in your head. You're giving your conscience a physical form and I happen to look like Dib – to you."

Zim didn't get it. "Huh? How can you be answering my questions then?"

The Dib form shrugged. "I'm not answering your questions. You already know the answers."

"I do?"

"Yes."

(Bright eyes,

Burning like fire.

Bright eyes,

How can you close and fail?

How can a light that burned so brightly

Suddenly burn so pale?

Bright eyes.)

"Oh." Zim fell silent. "How come my internal voice looks like you – I mean, Dib?"

"Because you've always seen him as a part of yourself," the Dib form explained. "The part of yourself you kept hidden. Kind of like a second hidden personality."

Zim shifted his weight around uncomfortably. "Uh, could you just say 'I' instead of 'he' and 'him'?"

"Hey," the Dib form spread his hands. "I'm you. I say whatever you want."

The alien waved his hands. "Look, this is weirding me out enough already. So let's just pretend I'm talking to a ghost."

"If it suits you."

(Is it a kind of shadow,

Reaching into the night,

Wandering over the hills unseen,

Or is it a dream?)

Zim drummed his fingers on his knees and thought for a few seconds. "Um. . . why?"

"Why?"

"Why did you die? How come you didn't fight it?"

"I can't tell you that. Only Dib knew that and he can't tell anyone."

Zim groaned. "You can only tell me what I know. Well, what do I know? You're dead."

"Yes."

"The official cause of dead was, um, head trauma."

"Yes."

"I guess what I'd like to know is," Zim looked up. "Why did you put yourself in that situation? You knew what would happen when that car would hit you. But you went ahead and did it anyway."

(There's a high wind in the trees,

A cold sound in the air,

And nobody ever knows when you go,

And where do you start,

Oh, into the dark.)

"I had to," the Dib form explained. "It would have gone against everything I believed in if I had let my sister die."

"What did you believe?"

"I loved her, Zim."

"She didn't seem to love you back very much," Zim pointed out. "Not until you were dead."

"She did. Even before I died. You already know this so why ask it?"

"Because I want to understand." Greatly upset, Zim stood up and made two fists. "Irkens don't know love! We don't HAVE sisters or . . . or brothers! I want to understand humans, Dib, I really want to understand!"

(Bright eyes,

Burning like fire.

Bright eyes,

How can you close and fail?

How can a light that burned so brightly

Suddenly burn so pale?

Bright eyes.)

The Dib form stood along with Zim and assumed his enemy's usual frowny expression. "Then open yourself to it. What you're doing is stubbornly sitting outside and trying to observe the way you used to without the disgust. You can't watch this one, Zim, you have to live it and feel it. It's the only way you can really understand what I was fighting for."

Zim advanced toward Dib, pleading. "Please, tell me. I-I'm not smart enough for this. I'm-I'm too scared."

"You can do it," the human apparition said encouragingly, cracking out the trademark smirk. "You're Zim, remember? You can do anything."  He vanished.

(Bright eyes,

Burning like fire.

Bright eyes,

How can you close and fail?

How can a light that burned so brightly

Suddenly burn so pale?

Bright eyes.)

"Dib!" Zim cried grabbing at the spot. "Don't go! Come back! Dib!" His posture sagged

and he whispered, "Don't go . . ."

He sat in the empty seat and let his head fall into his hands.

Above him the sky exploded with color and light. The fireworks had begun.

The Next Morning . . ..

Why did it always seem when you wanted to find something, you couldn't find it?

Gaz sat in the middle of her room. Around her a sea of personal affects fanned out across the floor. Muttering in frustration, she stuck her small hands on her hips. For several hours she had been hunting and hunting for a video game all over her room and no matter how many times she turned it upside down, she couldn't seem to find it.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Gaz got to her feet and headed into the empty room beside hers. Single-mindedly, not really paying attention to what she was doing, she opened drawers, boxes and then the closet. There she paused and let her arms drop to her sides again.

There it was. The video game was sitting on top of the lid of the plastic bin. Almost as if it were put there on purpose. She picked it up and started to leave when something tugged at her. Her gaze rested on the white bin for a few more moments.

Finally she put the game aside and pulled out the white bin. She opened it and began digging. She found a tape and read the label.

EVERYDAY LIFE AT DIB'S HOUSE

Perfect.

She ran to living room and stuck it in the VCR. After adjusting the tracking speed, she sat down in front of the large screen. The picture jumped a few times before starting.

It was a picture of Dib's room. The date in the lower left hand corner indicated the recording had been made five months before.

The shot stayed tight on the closed curtains before someone picked it up and carried it out of the room. It headed down the hall toward the stairs before taking a detour to Gaz's room. It slowly peeked around the corner.

The Gaz in the film was sitting on her bed, head resting on her hand with a large book in her lap. She didn't see the camera advance on her bit by bit.

Dib's always energetic voice spoke up off screen. "Hello Gaz! I'm documenting my life! Want to say anything for the camera?"

"Go away." She didn't look up but she sounded annoyed.

Gaz watched herself and chuckled. Never knew I was so surly.

Dib persisted. "One thing and I'll leave you alone. Please?"

"You're a dork."

"And?"

"And you're getting on my nerves. It's either I finish this page or I kick your butt. It's your call." All this said while staring at an open book.

The camera came a bit closer. "Oh, c'mon, can't you humor me for once?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Go away."

"Why won't you tell me?"

Finally the onscreen Gaz slammed the book closed and held it up like a weapon. "You've got to the count of three before I make things start breaking. Namely you."

The camera rapidly backed up, bouncing all over the place. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry! I'll leave. See?" The camera retreated until it was outside the room. "This is me leaving. This is me backing down the stairs." Suddenly the camera swung upward crazily and a whole bunch of tumbling shots flashed, some of the stairs and the ceiling before settling. The camera laid on the floor on its side. Dib was sitting in front of it, rubbing his head. "Ow. That hurt."

At the sight of seeing her brother again, Gaz sat up straighter and closer to the screen.

He looked off camera and yelled. "I'm okay!" He muttered off to the side, just barely picked up by the mike, "Like any of you care." Dib stood up painfully and limped out of the room. "I need a band-aid."

Gaz fast-forwarded through the stationary shot of the stairs until it was picked up again.

"Okay," Dib narrated opening the front door and walking outside. "This is my front yard and here at the end of my walkway, this is my house." He panned around the place. "I've lived here all my life. Actually, this is the house my parents bought while Mom was pregnant with me. It's also their first house out of the city. Before they lived in a crappy apartment in the city where whenever you flushed the toilet, the electricity would go out." Dib laughed. "Glad I missed that! Gaz was born later. That was the girl you just saw. She's my sister. And sidekick of sorts. She's kind of mean but she's cool."

Gaz smiled and hugged the couch pillow she'd put in her lap.

"'Kay, more about me and my own later. This quiet suburban street is my neighborhood. Those little kids in the yard next door are Ann and Roy. Ann is four and Roy is six. I baby-sit them sometimes when I'm not saving the world."

Gaz's mouth fell open. She never knew that! Whenever Dib had run out at odd hours of the evening usually following a phone call where he said, "I'll be right there," she had just assumed more of his paranormal activities. This whole bit was new to her.

Ann and Roy spotted Dib filming them and waved. "Hi Dibby!" Ann ran to the fence and put both tiny hands on the chain links.

"Hey Dib!" Roy pointed to the camera. "What're you doing?"

"Making a movie."

"Neat!" Little redheaded Ann jumped up and down, using the fence for support. "Can we be in it?"

"You're in it right now."

"Yay!"

Equally carrot topped Roy folded both arms over the fence. "So when you watching us again?"

"I don't know. Whenever your parents call me I guess."

Roy grinned. "They might ask soon. They want to go out on a date again." He made a face. "They're married! They don't NEED to date no more."

"Yeah!" Ann piped, puckering out her lower lip. "Why can't we go with them?"

Dib laughed. "Sometimes parents have to have time to themselves."

"Why?" Ann asked.

"Because if they didn't, they wouldn't be those two fun people you love so much. They'd go crazy," Dib replied. "That's why they have to go out sometimes so they don't forget how to have fun with you guys."

Gaz grinned and shook her head, happy and disbelieving at what she was seeing. I had no idea he was good with kids. Under all that anti-social behavior, obsession with the paranormal and saving the world from Zim, Dib found time to baby-sit a couple of kids and be really good at it. It also made sense why those kids and their parents had been at the funeral. Gaz had always wondered about that.

Meanwhile Roy nodded. The whole thing made sense to his young mind. "Hey Dib, I saw Zim!"

"You did?" If Dib was disturbed by any of this, he did a good job of covering up the frantic anxiety. "When?"

"The other day," Roy explained. "He walked by my house. I said hi to him but he ignored me. He had a little green dog with him too!"

"But we knows he's a robot," Ann stage-whispered. "Doggies aren't green!"

"I got mad," Roy explained, "and then I told him I knew he was an alien. He ran away REAL fast. It was funny."

Dib just laughed, making the camera shake. "There you go. Proof as told by little children I'm not crazy! At least there are some people who believe me, even if they are just two little kids."

"Hey, I'm not little! I'm four!" Ann stood up straight and got a stern look on her face. "Almost old enough!"

"Old . . . enough?" Dib asked, his tone clearly showing he was confused. "For what?"

Roy pretended to hide his mouth behind his hand. "She wants to marry you when she grows up."

"Roy!" Ann shrieked as her brother ran off laughing with her hot on his tail. "I told you not to tell!"

"Well," Dib remarked after they were gone. "That was a revelation. They're good kids . . .. Aw man, the battery's about to go dead. I'll finish this later."

The screen went black.

There was nothing else.

Gaz sighed. "You never finished it." She got up and rewound the tape. After ejecting it, she held it almost reverently between her two hands. This tape had shown her more about the brother she'd known all her life and then discovered hadn't really known at all.

"I wish I could turn back time. I'd do it all different." Gaz turned off the TV and headed into the kitchen.

Right. Turn back time. Like that could ever happen.