A/N: On Sunday, I'm leaving for six weeks! ::pouts:: I'll still be able to update because I'll have a computer, but I'm not sure how often updates will be. I'm hoping for the best.
June 12, 2002
I know the operation's effects will take a while to set in, but I can't wait much longer! I want the future to be now! Then I could prove myself… It's a funny thought that a hamster could be considered more sane than a human. I have every right to hate that hamster for giving me the image of one of those raving lunatics in mental hospitals. Every race is a crushing defeat. I don't stand a chance. If I never reach their standards for sanity, dad will not only be ashamed of me but he will also be angry at me for not meeting the expectations for the whole experiment. He'll find some way to blame it on me. And I hate writing about it all because I know I will only be looked down on for being 'paranoid.'
The worst offense came last night. I couldn't sleep, as usual, thinking about things. Lying on my side and staring out the window, I looked up at the sky, and watched the stars sparkling in their multitudes. Sentinels, watching over the planet, but not protecting us from those who enter among us to evaluate our weaknesses then make his move. Then I saw the familiar car in the driveway, which meant my dad was home. I turned away from the window to face the wall. I didn't feel like looking at him. The front door creaked open, and I could hear his heavy footsteps as he came inside. I must have fallen asleep, because I remember waking up thinking hours had passed. My throat was dry so I forced myself up for a drink. I passed the top of the stairs on my way to the bathroom, but there was dad, sitting on the couch, watching t.v., so I knew I hadn't slept long. I got my drink, but on the way back to my room, I tried to figure out what it was he was watching. It didn't look like Mysterious Mysteries, and it was too late for most of the science shows he enjoyed. But there was a mousy looking animal, and a man with a stopwatch. That looked too familiar.
It was then that I noticed the man turn to the side and a large structure came into view. Inside its transparent walls was a boy, and it didn't take me long to realize that it was me. It must have been one of the tapes produced from that horrible video camera in the corner of the room. I saw myself groping for a wall when there was none, and falling face first through the mirage. I crashed into walls that appeared to be open doors. I ran in circles, trying to get my bearings. My glasses had fogged up with sweat and hot tears of embarrassment and confusion, and not just in the video. I found myself reliving every moment of it, as I could recall being in the maze so clearly. In a moment, I wasn't at the top of the stairs at all, I was racing frantically through a tangle of corridors, confusing eye tricks, and holograms.
That wasn't even the worst of it. Being forced to relive something I tried my hardest to forget was bad enough, but what came next finished the job. I could see my dad's shoulders popping up and down in spasms. I knew he was laughing or crying, but I couldn't quite tell which. Then I realized it was both. He seemed to find some unearthly humor in my dilemma and fear. His laughter escalated until it echoed through the house. But there I could see me, fighting for control over my imagination, terrified beyond belief, and he saw it as something funny! How could he do that to me when I agreed to do him the favor of letting him use me as a test subject? If I could have done the maze, I would have. But it's not within my reach. Maybe it never will be.
June 13, 2002
In two days, I get to go back to work. Mark said they wanted to give me ten days to get back to normal after the operation. He said "back to normal" as if he thought nothing of it, but I can't imagine that my dad and the doctors meant it any other way than sarcastically. I'm glad to be going back to the bookstore, because they get new books in every week, and there's usually something I just have to read. Plus, the more time I spend at work, the less time I'll have to spend being tested. Mark says he doesn't want to stress me out by having me do too many things in one day. A doctor said, "Too much stress can induce hysteria in schizophrenics, and can even trigger it in people showing no signs of the disorder."
I wasn't thrilled at her diagnosis of me, but if it keeps me away from that maze, I'm not complaining. I want to tell Brian, Rob, and Tae about the operation so they would listen to me about Zim, but Mark told me that I can't tell anyone. I asked why, but he told me, "That's just the way your dad wants it." I'm sure dad just has some reason for his own benefit that it should be this way. He might be afraid I'll be the next deformed monkey. The only works of his people hear about are Supertoast, and the Perpetual Energy Generator. The things that worked. No one ever mentioned the animals I saw.
Mark also told me I don't need to write every day, which is a good thing. I don't want everyone to be able to look inside my head as if it is an open book. No matter how close you are to someone, there's really no way you could tell them everything.
June 15, 2002
I was back at work today. Not that I was in any hurry. I just wanted to read the books. When I came in the door, all the guys were staring at me. Almost like they knew… but they couldn't! It's classified. I hope. I want everyone to know about the operation's goals when its effects have become noticeable, but until they do, any knowledge of it would just be another opportunity to scorn me and put me to shame. They'd think I made it up, and ask if I still thought Zim is an alien. Really, they're the ones who need help. What "skin condition" turns you green?
I'm sure they don't know the truth behind it all, but their jeering hits close to home. I heard such things as "insanity is irreversible." I tried my best to ignore it, but their mocking faces said more than their words. My mind feels separate from my body, as if they are two parts randomly thrown together. They don't belong. The combination of the two does not seem to belong in the world that surrounds it, either.
I headed out behind the store, trying my hardest to lift a crate of books. Nothing comes easily for me, and this is no exception. Limitations are a frightening thing. In a life or death situation, someone being just a hair better than you would mean game over. I find plenty of limitations in the maze, struggling to find my feet. The box was too heavy for me to lift, even though it only contained about 100 softcover novels. I watched Rob pass me carrying two such boxes, and an edgy grin possessed his lips as he watched me struggle. His tall, athletic build is designed for this task. Let's just say mine's not. It's hard enough for me to hold my own head up, and with every humiliation such as this, it becomes increasingly harder.
I've had just about enough of Zim. He watched every agonizing second I spent struggling with that box. I saw his eyes narrow, and his "pupils" dilate. No doubt he was analyzing this weakness. Physical strength: poor. Coordination: average. In his as well as everyone else's opinion, sanity: nonexistent would fall in there somewhere. But it's so obvious to see his inhuman qualities simply by locking eyes with him. His gaze penetrates through anyone's body, far deeper than any human's eyes could probe.
Kat stopped by not long before closing time. Our phone conversation still stuck with me in my head, making this reunion that much better. It was great to see her, as I hadn't since that time at the lab. I finally had the nerve to ask her if she wanted to come to my house for dinner. Of course, nothing came of it. She is going to visit her grandparents in Oklahoma, and she will be there until the end of July. I'll miss her, and without her around, I could be set up for a lonely summer. She promised to call me sometimes, though. Well, long distance friendship is better than nothing, and she will be back by the end of the summer. Best of all, she will be back at Extra Mile. There is hope for the world!
June 16, 2002
Today was yet another example of how a hamster can bring a human to his knees. Those little black currant eyes of Pepsi's look up at me so innocently every time I pass her cage as if to say, "I'm not hurting you, Dib. I'm not hurting anyone." She probably has no idea what she's doing to me. Mark says it's incredible that the effects of her operation have held out so well. Apparently, she is the first subject to be tested to have any lasting effects (unless death counts as a lasting effect.) All that had come of previous tests were three-week results then insane idiocy and death. Dad was in a hurry to test it on a human but the doctors forced him to wait for true success before allowing him to do so. Two months of success on Pepsi was good enough for him. I have to admit, I am still uneasy about the whole thing. The recognized sanity part I like, but staying at their predetermined level means a dulling of my senses. If that happens and I no longer notice or care about Zim's endeavors, bye bye Earth.
Pepsi only makes the concept worse. I'm tired of competing with her only to find that I'm fighting to do something I will never be able to do. I can't figure out how she does it; how she masters the mazes with more ability than I could hope to. I'm just tired of being forced into these things… No, actually this is worse because I agreed to it. I had a chance to escape, but I missed it. But I couldn't even do that. Still, they might not care if I just don't show up. That mutilated dead monkey isn't missed. The image of that hand has haunted me ever since I first saw it. I can always picture its distorted digits reaching through the darkness for me, trying to cinch me in its grasp. And I'm not even as abnormal as it was. Everyone sees me as abnormal, but I know that there are psychotics lying shackled in padded cells who would make me seem perfectly sane in comparison. Those doctors don't need me.
June 19, 2002
I haven't gone to the lab since the last time I wrote. Mark called the house to ask why, so for the first time I gave him the answer he wanted. I told him, "I'm not my dad's science project. I'm his son. I hate the doctors and the tests, but most of all I hate racing that hamster." By now I was practically screaming, but it felt good. Even though it wasn't Mark I wanted to scream at, it was time to scream at someone. I wanted it to be my dad.
I heard a sigh from over the phone, then Mark answered me, "Well, we were going to put the racing on hold for a while until we see marked progress in you. But we won't know if there is any progress at all unless you come to the lab periodically for other testing. Also, we have something for you to help with your development."
Dad was at the lab, so of course he wouldn't pick me up to take me there. I got on my bike and rode to the lab, and when I got there, Mark was outside the door waiting for me. He took me inside and seeing the apathetic expression on my face, put a hand on my shoulder and said, "Dib, don't be put off by the amount of time this will take to accomplish. The time will pass anyway." Yeah, I thought, with me stuck in the role of the raving lunatic. How does everyone seem to know what I'm thinking? Mark must have known because he gave me the look and led me to the office where we had our first testing session.
He showed me something that reminded me of one of Gaz's GameSlaves. According to Mark, I'm supposed to put it on every morning and just let my imagination take over. I've never been told to do that before. He says it could help me get deep-ingrained memories and emotions out of my system and into the recipe for the continuation of the experiment. I don't know how that is supposed to happen. But he said finding out where the "problem" started will help find a solution. Usually, the jagged, angular zombies on Gaz's GameSlaves just make me nervous. Unless this is vastly different, I think it will only make things worse. But with nothing to lose, I'll have to try it.
June 20, 2002
I tried the virtual reality thing today, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. I thought the mazes were bizarre! The good thing about this was that no one was watching me. At least I don't think they were. Not knowing you are being watched and later finding out that you are is an unpleasant surprise. Another good thing about the virtual reality set was that I didn't have to do anything. I just had to lie back, and let it carry me away…
I was standing at the edge of a field, lined on one side by trees, regal towering pines. The sky was a dusky pale blue, and mist enveloped the entire environment. I could almost feel them condense on my face. The peaceful scenario was one I wanted to remain in forever, as all outside traumas were long since forgotten.
The breeze rustled the trees, and I felt the ground vibrate gently beneath my feet. When I looked off in the direction from where I felt it had come, my eyes met with a throng of armored horsemen, galloping across the field. A deep, burgundy flag trimmed in gold and baring a dragon-like animal in the center was exalted as the line surged toward me. The men were masked by silvered armor, and each horse was draped and hooded in material that resembled that of the flag. Still, in the face of all these men, swords drawn, I was stock still, unfazed. As if I knew why they were here.
I happened to catch a glimpse of my own body, which was more than my body. I was no longer clothed in my trenchcoat, t-shirt, and boots, but I was as regal as the approaching cavalry was. I was armored in gold, and held a helmet of the same metal in my hands. A sword was resting in a sheath that was attached to the saddlebag of the petit bay stallion standing next to me. I placed my helmet on my head, and mounted my horse. The cavalry had long since slowed to a walk, then halted.
The field was silent except for the snorting of horses and the breeze whistling through the pines. I turned my horse to face the mass of men, and all bowed their heads, looking to me in reverence. It was incredible. Empowerment. The men raised their heads, waiting to see what came next. I drew my sword, raising it for all the men to see. As I did this, a cheer escaped the mouth of each. I turned my horse away from them, and eased from a walk, to a trot, to a canter. The men followed my example, and we flew across the endless field, stirring up birds and animals in our wake. A group of men on horseback, similar to us in appearance, stood a few hundred yards down. Their flag, however, was a misty blue-violet, and a black wolf like animal occupied its center. Just as I prepared for the two armies to clash, I was brought back to my own body, lying still on the living room couch…
It was like nothing I had ever seen or heard of before. Me, the captain of a medieval army. Still, I saw no actual combat between the two sides, simply acknowledgement of me as a leader. I liked the feeling it gave me, though. I was a leader, undisputed and respected. The thought that people would entrust me with their lives was a foreign thing to me. I'm sure most people who know me are convinced that I would lead them on a suicide run.
I enjoyed the virtual reality experience, but had forgotten it by the lunchtime. In the evening though, something came to me. A memory, clips and phrases. All I could determine was that it was my first day at Extra Mile, and how I was terrified of all the people who surrounded me. I was so frightened and consumed by the other students' menacing façade that I found myself lost in the skool's grim channels of halls. Fragments of plaster were missing from the ceiling, and it was far darker and filthier than my previous skools. I careened through the halls hoping to find some way out. Instead, I found a teacher who offered to help me find my next class. I told her it was English, and she told me that she was the English teacher. She also told me, "My name is Miss Palmer, and if you have any problems, you can come talk to me, okay?" I nodded my head, and found myself almost able to trust this teacher. That was all I remember, but I wonder where exactly it came from.
June 21, 2002
I had nothing to do today. No work, no tests, nothing. So I decided to catch up on my paranormal studies after putting them on hold for far too long. When Gaz was in the kitchen eating breakfast, I took her camera out of her closet, and went to Zim's house. Once I got there, I peeked through Zim's window to see him pacing back and forth, telling his little robot something I couldn't hear. Neither was wearing any sort of disguise. The opportunity was there. I snapped picture after picture of Zim striking dramatic poses. I wish I could have recorded what he was saying. Then there would be no way to disprove me. When the world sees this undeniable evidence, they will have to believe me. I know this didn't work last time, but last time I got caught. And this time, nothing can go wrong with it. Zim has no clue that his world is doomed.