I Have No Purpose
SUMMARY: Problems at home lead Dib to flee to the skool early, where he encounters another student...and Zim. They clash, but will Zim torture Dib to death?
The rain pelted the outside of the house, providing a background for Dib's quiet contemplation. Professor Membrane promised again that he would get home early. He didn't come home until 3:21 AM. Dib was sick of this, and before his father could retire—always so cheerful—he questioned him on what he'd been doing. "Work," the professor said. Dib read him the riot act on that one. Why did he always make these promises and never keep them? Why couldn't he ever be honest? Why couldn't he ever put in for time off? Dib pondered these questions often. His response: "I'm a busy man, son! Go to your room!"
"No! I will NOT go to my room! Not until you call in sick tomorrow!"
"There's no space open, son. You don't understand—"
"Oh, COME ON! NO ONE has to work as much as you do, not even geniuses!"
"But I have the highest IQ of anyone who's ever lived!"
"Just because you have high statistics doesn't mean you're smart! Just because you know a lot and can analyze things quickly doesn't mean you deserve more leeway. You're just like everyone else!" He'd never seen his father as quiet as he was then, but Dib could see that, beneath those goggles, he felt afraid. For what?
"And you think you're intelligent, studying those stupid aliens and ghosts? Show me when you get a Nobel Prize for paranormal investigation!"
"As soon as you stop treating me like I'm something the car picked up on the way back from the freak show!" He grabbed Dib by the arm and yanked him off the sofa and into the air. He hit the wall and fell to the ground, trying to rub his injured shoulder. "AH, AH, OOH, OWWW!" he screamed out. Dib could hardly believe it. Neither could the professor, it seemed. He removed his goggles, and Dib saw an expression he couldn't quite read. The professor picked him up and hugged him. It was hollow, though, and full of empty emotions. Dib didn't feel like hugging him back, in any event.
"Dib, I am so sorry." Was that my father's voice? Dib wondered. It was much different from what he normally heard. Normally, he sounded confident, composed, and unemotional: quite like a trained robot. This was different. "Dib, I—I..." He must have seen that Dib wouldn't accept any apology. "Dib, please, you're important to me." Important? Ha! But Dib couldn't speak. Something held him down, as though keeping him underwater, preventing him from getting air.
"Dib," he said, "Dib, I'm calling in sick tomorrow. I want you to show me your work in the paranormal." He said it with a heavy sigh, as though he were giving in to an enemy's demands. Normally, Dib would accept this gratefully. Now, something was different.
Finally, Dib spoke: "I'm sorry, Dad. I don't take surrenders. Not from you, not from anybody." He began walking to his room, when he stopped. "Make sure you talk to Gaz tomorrow, though. Make sure you keep your word." He nodded slowly, as though Dib had authority over him.
Dib stayed awake so he could talk to Gaz before his dad did. At six, she awoke, and Dib told her everything that had happened. She could hardly believe her brother had stood up to him. Usually, he kept his distance. Dib showed her the bruise he'd gotten, and she nearly gasped.
"It's okay, Gaz. I'm okay." She wasn't concerned about his welfare, though. Gaz slapped Dib across the cheek harshly, and he ran his hand over the mark tenderly. "What the hell was that for?"
"Dib, don't you know what'll happen if you tell people about this?" Dib just stared. "We could be taken away from him! That's not going to happen, is it, Dib?"
"W-what?" She hit him in the nose, and he wiped the blood off with his sleeve.
"You heard me! You tell NO ONE, understand?"
"Gaz, I—"
"GET OUT, DIB!" She kicked him in the shin, and he stumbled on his way out. He changed clothes quickly and ran the whole way to skool.
"Zim. Where is he? I want to pulverize him a little more today than I wanted to yesterday. Wait. Something's different. Oh, right. The playground is empty—I'm here an hour before the building opens," Dib said aloud. He lied down on top of a bench and looked up at the sky. He closed his eyes and tried to enjoy the soft breeze that tickled his face. It was to no avail.
"Dib, are you okay?" He shot straight up and tumbled off the bench. That's my mother's voice, he thought with excitement.
"Mom! Where are you? Mom!" He turned around in all directions. There was no one there. Of course. Crazy old Dib, you've done it again. He sighed. "Mom, I love you." Dib hung his head down in shame.
A few years ago, when he was nine, she disappeared. No one knew if she died, or left, or what. Dib always clung to the hope that she'd come back and tell him that everything was okay. He fought back a few tears, but in the end, he lost. Dib hid his head in his hands to cover up the accumulating moisture. He let out a deep breath. "I hate myself..." Something touched his shoulder. It was someone's hand.
Before he looked to see who it was, she spoke, "What's wrong, Dib?"
"Gretchen?" His voice changed to a higher register in his surprise.
"Tell me," she said. Dib sighed. He was too tired to think coherently.
"Well, it's just..." He trailed off as he noticed that she was massaging his neck a little. He relaxed his muscles a little and sighed in relief. "I'm just sick of this. There's not a single person who cares about me. Professor Membrane, he doesn't give a damn—he actually...h-h-he..." Gretchen stopped to run her hand through his hair. He smiled at first, but then he swallowed hard to continue, "H-he th-threw me. Against the wall. And Gaz, she doesn't care that I..."
"He threw you?" Dib nodded slowly. She sat beside him on the bench. "Dib, tell me."
"I just told you! Weren't you listening to anything I said? What's there more to tell?"
"I-I...I just wanted to tell you that I..."
"That you what?" he said, harsh.
"That I care, Dib."
"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm not following you."
"I...I love you, Dib." He opened his eyes wide and turned his head away from her.
What's going on? Is this some kind of cruel joke? I mean, she may not be one of the prettiest girls in skool looks-wise, but I'm still far below her consideration, Dib thought.
"I'm here for you," she said.
"So, you really like me?" I asked. Gretchen nodded. "Uh...wow. Am I handsome?" He tried to use a joke and a smile to break the tension, but instead she just blushed and nodded vigorously. Although he was even more nervous, he had to admit he liked her answer.
Of course, I always knew that I was handsome, but it's shocking to hear it from a girl. I feel like there's still something we should say, Dib thought. Instead, he hugged her and she kissed his cheek. Everything inside him became tender, and he heard a slight whimper escape his mouth in relief. She kissed his lips. This is crazy. He pulled away from her, and she looked a little saddened. What was I thinking? I don't love her! I mean, the only reason I want to kiss her is that I'm seeking her comfort!
"Dib? What...?"
"Gretchen, I'm sorry, but I can't do this."
"Why not?" Dib clasped her hands in his. She smiled.
"Because right now, I'm looking for your comfort, not you. That doesn't mean that it'll never happen, but I don't want to give you false hopes. Do you understand?" Her smile disappeared.
"Why can't we just—"
"No. Would you rather that I showed interest in you for a few days, then overnight I wasn't interested in you? That'd be using you. I can't do that. It wouldn't be right."
"That's why I love you." Dib felt like he was going to pass out, or get sick, or something.
This is all wrong. I finally find some comfort and the opportunity for a little romance, and I have to give it up? Oh, cruel fate—how you taunt me. She actually WANTS me to...to date her, and to kiss her, and...and...and she wants to console me. She cares about me. Someone ACTUALLY cares about me!
But I can't. Not until I'm over this emotional crisis. Wait a minute, Dib, OVER with it? Since when have you not been in emotional crisis? Uh...when I was two. But that's life, isn't it? Oh, I don't know! I just want to relax and spend one minute in my life without having to worry. And yes, I want someone to love me.
The question is, do I want Gretchen to love me?
Whatever the answer, he scooted closer to her on the bench so that they touched. Dib placed his hands around her neck and kissed her. "Gretchen, I'm sorry." She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed so tightly that he could feel his fears wash away, but a soft, nagging pain came up. I'm making a mistake. Still, he indulged. I want to be loved. "No, I'm sorry, I just can't." He pulled away from her again.
"Dib...it's okay."
"No. No, it's not."
"Dib, I—"
"Gretchen, we can still talk and get to know each other, but that doesn't mean I love you. I'm sorry. I've got to go. I've got thinking to do." As Dib turned the corner of the skool, some rain fell from the sky, splattering his glasses with the liquid and distorting the world around him as though his perception had become the fragments of a fallen glass vase. It was shattered, broken, false, and despised. He slipped in the mud, splashing his face with the slush of dirt. As he wiped it from his glasses with his sleeves, he saw a broken view of the alien, cowering under the cover of the overhanging roof, unaware of his human nemesis's presence. Dib brought himself slowly to a stand, weakened from his limited duration of the day's struggles. In a last desperate motion, he charged Zim and brought him to the ground. Zim cried out in his usual surprised anguish at having been caught off guard, but he quickly gathered himself to a proud stance.
"Dib! What are you doing here?" Time was too little and too precious to waste an expenditure on words or wit, and Dib felt nothing but a hollow emptiness from within to express a suitable rationale for the question posed. Dib pressed Zim's shoulders harder to the asphalt, making it difficult to even squirm. He didn't have time to wonder about how he was suddenly able to overpower the nimble Irken or why he wasn't asking questions or making statements to torture Zim. No—there was indeed time for "How does it feel?" or "Looks like I've won, eh, Zim?" It was too weak, though. His desire for vengeance was weak when scaled to the most primitive emotion he could muster: hatred. He had plenty of time, but triumph and success lost their sweet allure in the eyes of a pained, frantic child.
Dib let go of Zim.
He let go, and Zim, thoughts trained on survival, caught a breath of air before fleeing. Dib pushed himself harder and harder, but his arms would not move. He was not physically exhausted. In spite of all reason, he felt his want—no, his NEED—to capture that filthy alien fall from beneath him. Nothing was important anymore.
Life fell from Dib's eyes as he hit the ground. There was no thud, no grunt of discomfort, and no sign to Zim of what happened. All he could hear was a slight, unceremonious splash in a murky pool of water.
Zim leaned over Dib. Did the Dib have a medical problem? He timorously lifted Dib's hand from atop his chest before dropping it. Dib's breathing was slight, but it seemed to echo. He wasn't dead, anyway.
Dib was vulnerable. Zim inspected his fallen form, making mental notes on ways of hurting the beast for future reference. He tugged on Dib's ears, pinched his nose, and poked his eyes.
The rain fell harder, and Zim had forgotten to bathe in paste that morning. He tugged on Dib's trench coat until he had removed it. Draping it over himself, he walked across Dib's stomach and touted it as if it were a royal scepter.
"Here I am! Here I am to save the Earth! I am the amazing Dib, as seen lying in a heap of my miserable failure! Look at me now!" Zim's laughter fell. Dib wasn't even looking at his magnificent performance! "Dib-monkey! Get up!" He kicked Dib in the nose. The plummeting rain broke the deep red trail streaming down his face. "How do you like that? Now, kiss my foot!" Zim pressed the heel of his boot to Dib's lips. "Thank you, filthy subject," he said, removing it. The human scarcely breathed now. "Want me to break your stupid Dib-glasses right over your head? No? Oh, well, too late!" Zim jumped on Dib's head as the lenses shattered.
Dib let out a shrill, quick shriek of agony.
"Ha, ha! Don't think for a second that you can beat me, human. Your arrogance is pitiful." Zim glanced at Dib's hair spike and grinned. "How would you like me to remove the trait that most defines your appearance?" Keeping Dib still by pressing his foot to Dib's head, Zim pulled until he had ripped the spike of Dib's hair completely off. He screamed.
"Dib, you miserable creature. Can't you see it's over? I've won. Save yourself the trouble of suicide and allow me to kill you right now."
"Go ahead. I've given you every opportunity, Zim." Zim spat in Dib's face.
"You pathetic human! You even need my help to kill yourself!"
"Why HAVEN'T you killed me, alien? Huh? Why haven't you killed me yet? Your enemy isn't even resisting as you beat and humiliate him."
"Of course you're not defending yourself; you're injured!"
"I'm injured emotionally, Zim. Not physically. I could still jump up and kick the living daylights out of you."
"If you're so smart and strong, then why haven't you?"
"Just go away."
"Stop being a weak thing and answer my question! I command you!"
"You really wanna know?" Dib asked, standing with considerable ease. Zim's eyes opened wide. He was barely hurt, but he looked like he was almost dead.
"Y-you look so...sickly."
"That's what life is like when you've lived your whole life being hated by your own father and sister with no refuge to take shelter in."
"Then you're not ill?"
"In a way."
"Then why haven't you defended yourself? Tell me! Tell me now!"
"Because I hate myself," Dib said. "That's all." The human turned his face away, as if in shame.
"Why?" Zim asked. Dib opened his eyes.
"Why? Do you even have to ask that? You, of all people—things—
should know that, Zim."
"Well, yeah, there's that whole enemy thing, but the reason I hate you is because you get in my way. And your head is big. What's your reason?"
"I don't know, because I'm crazy, that's why! My own father hates me! My sister would rather see me impaled than happy, everyone thinks I'm crazy, even though I'm not, and because I'm not just like everybody else in this sick, twisted world! Can't I just die? Everyone else wants me dead!"
"So, you hate yourself because everyone else does? Gee, Dib, that's stupid, even for YOU!"
"That's NOT why I hate myself!"
"Then you don't hate yourself at all! Admit it, you putrid worm, you love yourself!"
"Hey...you're RIGHT. Wow, you're actually RIGHT! I love my paranormal studies, I love catching aliens, I love the stupid way I word things, and the way I never give up. I love not having a life. I'm Dib, and I love me, even if no one else does!"
"Yeah, yeah, go make out with yourself somewhere, just leave me alone," said Zim, walking off.
"Zim, why did you talk to me? Why didn't you just kill me, or leave me there?"
"Because, filthy human," he said, "I have no purpose." Before Zim walked out into the driving rain, his face frying, but never flinching, he tossed Dib his coat. "Farewell, human."
Zim didn't arrive at skool the next morning.
Neither did Dib.