Music Lessons
An Invader Zim Fanfiction by KidKourage
Interlude—NocturneA 'nocturne,' is something you can probably figure out the meaning of by yourself. It is exactly what it sounds like—something meant to mimic the night. And this chapter of the story takes place at night, so…well, I suppose it could also have been titled 'Fantasy,' which is also a musical form, if you can believe it.
Now, then…this requires a little bit of explanation, as it's completely different from anything I've ever posted. Hey, there's a first time for everything, right? And this is the first time I've ever written anything Zim-related that isn't in script format! This fact will become pretty obvious once you start reading, but I just wanted to warn ya'll so it wouldn't come as a complete shock. Yes, I can write things that don't run like the scripts of a TV show. 9.9 Also, too, this is from the Zimster's point of view! Hey, this'll be like my 'test' to see if people read my author notes…anyone who doesn't read this will surely be confuzzled! But this was in my head so I had to do it. u.u That's Vasquez-ian logic for you, you know. Fans of 'Squee' will remember the random 'Boopy' panel and know what I am talking about. Ha! So, anyway, non-script-ful madness as composed by my Zim mindstate! Read if you dare, and be amazed! Muhahahahahaaaaaaa! O.o…Zim-voice is leaking already, as you can see…and you will also see that he has some problems with comma use. Heheh…
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Music. Ah, yes. Once again, the sound and feel of it was all around me. I sat at the helm of my piano—ordered specially from Callnowia and very very advanced; you human readers can't begin to comprehend its value—and let the music flow. I had designed the room perfectly, of that there could be no doubt. The combination of hard walls, flat unbroken and uncovered floors, and ceilings that reached up to the ground level was such that every note emitted by either the speakers or my amazing piano would echo into infinity and return to me with tenfold beauty. I am a genius, you know.
But not only a technical or designing genius. At that moment, I was displaying yet another of my vast array of talents; I was playing that piano like the greatest virtuoso in the universe, because that is what I was. Under my expert fingers the well-polished black and white keys could do nothing but produce music of pure magnificence. I was the master, then, sitting at the console of a great machine made to ensnare the minds and trap the consciousness of all who listened. Soon…soon I would rule the world. With this sound in my possession, the humans would fall in line behind me and worship my might as I deserve. The Kami of Music would be obeyed by this entire planet—and then the galaxy!
At that time, however, I couldn't let thoughts of my inevitable rise to power distract me. That was my ultimate goal, yes, but at that moment I couldn't afford to let any atom of my being turn away from the task at hand.
The task of mastering the music, of subverting it to my will.
So far, all had been going well. There had been some—very minor!—setbacks at the start…those scales had been harder than I'd anticipated…but once my fingers had grown accustomed to this new function they were being used to perform, they did their job well. I moved forward quickly, learning the techniques firsthand through practice and practice and practice. The humans have a saying—"Practice makes perfect." In this case they are, perhaps, not quite as wrong as they normally are about everything. I found that by going over each song many times, I could ingrain the memory of the needed movements into my fingers themselves, and that soon they could dance across the keys without my even telling them exactly what to do. Yes, I could play several songs by that point, and play them without error. But still, that wasn't enough, I would soon discover.
The mechanism by which I can produce a full and complete song for myself and others to hear is simple, but I'm not surprised that the filthy dirty lazy humans haven't come up with it themselves yet. I have…eh…the right number of fingers, of course—the Irken race is foremost in all things, you…not…so foremost…monkeys!—but apparently the denizens of this stink-place have written all their piano music to be played by less evolved hands than mine. And so, I have developed an ingenious method by which I can record the part that one human hand would play, played by both of mine, onto a disk, which can then be played along with the other hand's part, also played by both of mine. Yes, I realize that I've typed the word 'play' many times in the same sentence! You dare point out my lack of word variety?! …I must use the same word repetitively because…other words…that are different…would confuse your pitifully small human mind. Right. Anyway, the point is, I am quite an amazing musician indeed, and all must bow before me. Wait. Where was I again? Oh yes.
Putting the two sounds together—that of the recording and that being played live by my hands—creates the illusion that there is only one song, that I am performing as any 'normal human' would. It does require a bit more skill on my part, as each of my hands must learn to play two different sets of keys—one for each 'hand' that a human would use. But, of course, I was able to learn this because I am very brilliant. Obviously it couldn't have been taught to me by anyone else, as there is no one else on this miserable dirt-rock with my unique and advanced physical structure. If I was going to make this plan work, I would have to teach myself. And I did.
And that night, I was using my newfound skill to its maximum. I was bringing forth sounds you can only dream of. I thought to myself that if anyone were to hear this perfect meshing of base and treble besides me, they would surely become entranced. That, of course, was the whole point. But, as I've said—even you can remember that short of a time back, can't you?—I didn't dwell on the future for long. What mattered was the present, and the song that was growing under my expert fingers. It flowed from my instrument like a glorious wave, rising and falling as my will and the symbols on the page dictated. It was wonderful.
I was the master. The piano and the music emanating from it so perfectly were my servants, and I could do with them exactly as I pleased. I could change the dynamics if I so chose. I could speed up or slow down—given time to prerecord half of this new version beforehand, of course—as I desired. I could even change the notes if I wanted—rewrite the whole song into a different key! I had the ability, so why shouldn't I use it? The music was as mine as any other of my possessions, something that could be bent and molded and shaped until I thought it fit to be heard.
But I just couldn't get it to that point! No matter how I changed the songs, for some reason they never sounded quite exactly right. Oh, I wasn't hitting wrong notes, obviously, not anym—not ever! Every phrase fell into place just as the composer wrote it, with my dynamic alterations to enhance the sound. And still…
I threw myself into the task even more thoroughly, not thinking of anything but the music. I was completely absorbed in the melody. After a time I even felt that if I had opened my eyes I would have been able to see the notes hanging in the air around me. To anyone listening but me, it would have seemed flawless. But there was a flaw there. I can't describe it using your clanging and non-descriptive human syllables…or even in Irken, for that matter, but I sensed that something wasn't quite right. When she had played…argue though she might to the contrary, she remains my model. She may have learned more slowly than me, and I may even have surpassed her in technical skills, but she had something I apparently didn't. But what?!
The only thing I could think of at the time was that the music was still not completely under my control. My fingers knew what keys to press, and how, but though I could undoubtedly get the song to sound right I couldn't produce that…feeling…that she had created. I concentrated all my energy on my goal, pounding the melody into the piano with all my will behind the movements of my fingers. The only thought in my head at the time was my desire for mastery. The idea was no longer to enslave mankind—for surely I could already do that with the talent I had already amassed. No. The idea was to enslave the music. I focused the entire force of my being on that, and continued.
But the harder I tried, the worse the song felt! How could that be?! I was infuriated, and thus steeled myself even further. The music would submit to me! It had to—how could it not? But the vibrations that surrounded me seemed almost painful by that time. Somehow I had gone from mere mediocrity to awful monstrosity! And the more I willed the notes to bend, the more broken they became. It got worse and worse to the point where the sensation was so bad it felt as though it might kill me. Me! I remember thinking to myself, just briefly, that perhaps by focusing so fully on the tune, I had unwittingly opened up my mind to the dominating alien will of the music itself. That it was pushing back at me as hard as I was pushing at it. A mighty Invader of the Irken military—under the control of mere scribbles on a piece of paper! It was unimaginable that this should be the case, but nevertheless the thought came to me, breaking my concentration. And then, in that short instant…
Discord.
Complete and abject failure. I had somehow missed a note, or had played too many at once. All I knew was that the sound spiraling up into the air and echoing off my studio's walls was the pinnacle of ugliness. My fingers froze, and the world went silent. And thus began one of the strangest times I've ever had. How had the music stopped entirely? The bass part should still have been flowing from the speakers uninterrupted.
It wasn't. Instead, I found myself enclosed in quiet. Quiet that was nearly tangible—to me, at least; you humans probably would've been standing around disrespectfully scratching yourselves and utterly missing the point. It hung in the air for what seemed like forever. Then, another sensation flooded my senses. I'm not exactly sure how I always know, other than that I am of a species several—thousand…million—rungs higher on the ladder than humans, but even before the doors moved a centimeter I had turned on my seat as if moved by some outside force. Without making a sound, the doors swung slowly open, letting in light that seemed unreal. I didn't notice that in the least, though. No, my attention was all on her.
Her.
The one who had taken me into her home and allowed me to stay.
Her.
The one who had led me to the music.
Her.
The one I love.
You didn't read that. You will read this now. Feel honored!
She stepped into the room and came toward the piano, trailing light. I didn't know what to make of this; she'd never been like this before. But it felt like her, and so I was sure that it was. She came to a stop next to my bench, and without looking at me, spoke these words:
'Show me what you've learned, Zim.'
I was confused—no I wasn't!—for a second or two, but then realized that her intention was for me to play for her. I opened my mouth to protest—how could I possibly reveal my imperfection to her? Bad enough if the parent-humans or Gir were to hear, and worse if the Dib were to, but her? My entire ambition—besides ruling the universe, obviously—was to illicit the feeling in her with my song that she had caused in me. And I couldn't—not yet. And so I attempted to tell her that, no, I wouldn't play the piano in her hearing, that I needed more time before I would allow her to listen. But, for some reason, I couldn't speak. How…stupid! I was annoyed by this, and thought for a moment that there must be some kind of trick going on to make me look a fool. Well, I would show whoever was behind it. She wanted me to play? Oh, I would play. I narrowed my eyes, raised my hands above the keys, concentrated my mind, and let my fingers fall.
The first thing that I noticed was that as soon as my hands touched the keyboard to play the treble part of the song, the bass part sounded through the air as well. The second thing was that I was making the same hideous noise as before. I winced and glanced to my side, but she was just standing there, one hand rested on the wood of the piano, eyes closed as if hearing something beyond the physical sound filling the room. Well, that was nothing out of the ordinary. I could hear it too—could hear the disharmony in the melody despite the precision of the notes. I gritted my teeth, willed the music to do as I wanted it to, and continued on. This…pathetic…non-being would not succeed in its attempt to control me. I would have it in my power, and I would achieve this in front of her, no less! Still the result was the same: no matter what I did, it refused to submit. The song came to an end, and the last notes rebounded off the walls and ceiling for a long time before the awful silence filled the studio again.
Then, she spoke again. 'You can make the notes come out of the piano in the right order, at the right speed, with the right pitch, but there's still something missing. Have you felt it?'
Without a thought to whether my voice would be working again—though, as it turned out, it was—I launched into a tirad—completely rational explanation.
'Of course I have! I have superior senses! But even though I know there's something wrong I don't know what it is and I can't make it stop…being…wrong! This whole thing is stupid! It doesn't matter—the humans will fall in the face of the skills I do have. They would fall to me eventually anyway, even without the piano! I will control them all even if I can't control the music!'
She seemed startled by this last statement, and finally turned her eyes to meet mine with a curious stare.
'You're trying to control it? The music?'
I'll admit that made me even angrier. No, I admit nothing.
'Yes, you…person! What else do you think I've been doing down here all this time?! I've tried everything—I've put all my considerable brain power into it, and still! I can't make it sound like you can!'
At this point, I seized the pages of music from the stand in front of me and thrust them toward her, pointing in accusation.
'You taught me what the notes looked and sounded like, and what all these stupid, pointless scratchings mean! But you never taught me how to master the song itself!'
She stared at me, giving me time to calm down like she always does, then smiled that decidedly human smile that meant she was making fun of herself. 'I must be the worst teacher in the world, to leave out the most important part.'
I shook my head. 'Not the worst teacher. I never asked you because I thought I could do it myself. Apparently I can't. But no matter.' I moved to the side a bit, beckoning her to sit beside me. 'You will show me how to exert domination over the music now.'
At this, she raised an eyebrow. 'No I won't.'
That defiance…she is lucky that I care for her, or she may have met a grim end long ago. 'What?!'
She did sit next to me then, dropping lightly onto the bench. She hadn't stopped…eh…glowing since the minute she'd entered the room, but at the moment the shine was duller, and didn't extend far beyond her body. Why she should suddenly be emitting light wasn't my concern at the moment. I wanted an answer. Why wouldn't she show me her secret? Was she unable, or just unwilling? How could she betray me so?!
'I won't show you how to control music, Zim. You can't.' She turned her gaze on me, holding me like she had so many times before with those green eyes of hers. 'No one can. Music just isn't something that can be mastered. It's free, always has been free, and always will be free.'
This I didn't understand, even though I of course understand everything. 'Then how do you…all my work…you can do it…I've tried so hard and couldn't…and yet it comes out of you effortlessly…how?'
Incredulity. '"Effortlessly?" You think…no. Not that, at least not at first. But…it's all your trying that's taken you farther and farther away from what you want. You say you've put your brain into it? Don't. Once you've got the notes under your fingers, and I can see that you do, music ceases to be a matter of the brain.'
'Then what—?'
'And stop concentrating so hard! Not only do you have the wrong goal in mind, you're going about it all wrong too!'
Yes, she is very, very lucky. 'So, you're telling me that I can't be the master, and that I can't use my brain when I play? You're not making sense!'
'I'm not sure I can explain it in words. All I know is that the music can't be yours.'
'Then I should let myself be controlled by it?!'
'No. It should be a giving and a taking. You put yourself—not your mind, your soul—into the song, and what you get…is the song.' She seemed at a momentary loss. 'No, I have to show you. You won't understand until you feel it.'
'Then show me.'
She lost all semblance of ethereality for a second as she grinned down at me. 'Then move.'
I heaved a great sigh to let her know that I was the one doing her a gracious favor by allowing her to perform for me, and slid off the bench. I took the place beside the piano that she had vacated, folded my arms, and watched. If she was going to show me something, I wasn't going to miss it. This could be the key to my success. She breathed deeply, stretched her fingers, closed her eyes, and began.
From the first note, I felt that…sensation…that beautiful feeling that had drawn me to the piano in the first place. She was playing the same song that I had attempted…the very same song that she had been playing that first day…but there was no similarity beyond that. Where I had been making rhythmic noise, she was creating music. Or…no, she wasn't. It wasn't creation. It seemed to me then that what she was really doing was calling out to something that already existed, pouring her essence into the air and being answered by the melody. It was just as she had said—'a giving and a taking.' There was balance, and harmony, and…she shone like a star at the center of the galaxy of music swirling around her. Her face and body radiated nothing but peace—she was hardly focused at all! She had let go, I realized. She had no idea that anything else in the world existed besides her soul and the song, not even the piano…not even me.
If the composer had not seen fit a hundred years ago to write a final chord to his masterpiece, I don't think she would ever have stopped…would ever have come back. The last notes soared to the ceiling, and then there was silence once more. She still seemed quite entranced, so I spoke first.
'I see.'
Her eyes snapped open, and she looked a bit confused. But then she turned to me and cocked her head questioningly. 'You see?'
'Yes.' I nodded, then stepped toward her and took her hands in my own. 'I see, and more importantly, I feel. I know. I know now that I have to…eh…' I couldn't think of the right words to express myself, but I must have gotten my point across to her with my amazing mind, because she smiled.
I could tell you about her smile and what it feels like, but you wouldn't understand and would likely see some nonexistent disgusting ickyness or something behind my words that simply isn't there. She stood up, then kneeled to embrace me. There is nothing behind that, either—stop snickering! Zim will not be mocked! ………………..what? Right.
The next thing I remember is lifting my head and realizing that it had been resting on the keyboard. I was surprised—for the first time in my life, of course—and sat up straight. Sat? I had been standing only an instant ago! What was…oh, yes. I had been dreaming. That explanation would account for the strangeness I had just experienced, account for her shine and my temporary inability to speak. The horrible discord, I decided, must have been made by my head hitting the keys. I had overexerted myself, apparently, in trying to achieve mastery over the music.
Mastery…and that was all just a dream…but still, dream or not, I knew I couldn't continue to pursue control. It was impossible, I understood, just as she had said. And, now, it wasn't what I wanted anymore. No, now my desire was to reproduce what she had shown me—to have that reciprocity between myself and the music. She'd said that it was possible if I had the notes under my fingers. All I would have to do is to let go as she had, to call the sounds from the air instead of pulling them. I would have to give myself to the song, so that I could have the song within me. So that I could show the song to others.
So I could share the song with her.
I am now fully awake and full of amazing energy and motivation. Sitting here I feel like I'm on the verge of something truly great—greater perhaps than any of the other…great…things I have done. So, filthy monkey-children, if you will kindly begone from my sight so I can get to work…get out of here, already! I don't want you people anywhere near me! I can't believe I even just told…forget all you've just read! Forget about my astounding studio of wonder, forget about my plan to rule you all with an iron fist…forget what I said about her! Just go away and thank whatever worthless deities humans pray to that I am too busy to exact the kind of ruthless torture upon you that you deserve for coming in here and bothering me!
Now…I have discs to re-record…and music to find.
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Well? What did you think? Man…letting Zim take over is tiring. I think he lives in an almost constant state of tension, the silly. ^.^ Well, he's going to have to release all that if he's ever going to have a relationship with music, that's for sure. Will he succeed? Stay tuned and find out!
The Beat Goes On…