PART TWO: RECOVERY
Chapter Six
Darkness enveloped X's head as he lay on the couch, but he did not sleep. Sleep seemed to come harder to him now, even though it had become just another option in the Start menu. It was this wretched suburb. Despite its apparent peacefulness, he didn't know anything about it, and that disturbed him. It was only the fact that he knew the entire city that made him such an amazing thief back on Irk. He had to keep telling himself that if ZIM could survive here, then it had to be pretty safe, and he knew that if he couldn't make himself believe this, he'd go mad.
Not that he didn't think he was going insane already, and it wasn't just that his body had become one giant Swiss Army knife. Sometimes, as he lay there, sanity seemed to slip away, leaving only despair and those strange thoughts that floated up from the void. He had nothing left. His body was gone. His life was gone. HIs loved ones were gone. His possessions, what few of them he had, were gone. His future was gone. He had nothing.
And then there were the thoughts... It was like a voice filling every fiber of his being, screaming at him to do something... but what. In his idleness, he flicked through the hard drive that had replaced his heart and soul, sobbing gently to himself. He scrolled through an endless series of video clips and data files. The videos all seemed to be records of his memories, but the data files seemed to be records of all sorts of things. Some were simply the statistics of the ship he had travelled to this god-forsaken hunk of rock in, but others he had no idea about.
He opened one, and huge blueprints sprang up in front of him. They seemed to detail every aspect of his new robot body. He closed it and brought up another one. It too contained a similar cross section. He closed it again, bringing up file after file, every one of them containing information on the- What was it called again? he thought- SMNM.
He scrolled up through the list, until a folder of files caught his eye. It was labeled "Diary: SMNM Design-Completion Stages." Intrigued, he opened it. Suddenly the screaming in his head exploded into a cacophony of howling, yells of pain and anguish, tearing at every fiber of his soul. Hurriedly, he shut the folder, but the screams remained, seemingly forcing him to go on. He could feel they're message in his bones, or the robotic equivalent thereof, "Read!"
Cautiously, and trying to mentally repress the howls, he opened the first file in the folder, and read:
Date 8746502538
Work on upper body structure complete. Remote Pak Control system seems functional, and the entire body seems to respond at least partially to my commands. The brain systems need work, however, and some general design tweaks may be in order.
I hope that this will all be worthwhile. I try not to be vain, or jealous of my old colleagues successes when they claimed to have designed things that I had created, but just for once, I wish people will honor me for this. That they will remember me for my contributions to the mighty Irken Empire! I hope that one day, people will remember my name.
The name of Zeffie.
As he read the last line, the screaming pulled him on again, forcing him to continue reading through the night and into the hours of the morning. He felt no tiredness, nor did he feel the need to rest at all. All he knew was that the voices had to be quieted, to be silenced, to be obeyed. The voices were his master. No, not even that. The voices were him.
By the time the sun's rays had begun to creep into the house, X's mind was exhausted. It was no longer physically possible for him to grow tired, but the voices had worn him down. They pressed in from all sides, suffocating him with their blank meaning. As he finished what must have been the thousandth diary entry, X simply fell to the ground, crumpling into a quivering ball.
"Read!"
"Can't..."
"Read!"
"No..."
"Read!"
"No!"
"READ!"
"I won't..."
"READ!"
The words hit him with actual force, sending his spine arching and limbs twitching. He lost control, flailing every limb as his chest opened and starting pointing huge lasers and rockets at everything in the room. The voices held him to the ground with a mental blade, pinning him to the floor in agony. In front of his eyes, data whirred past as diagrams and diary entries smashed themselves into his eyes and brain, blowing apart his robotic mind in a fantastic array of colors.
X's limbs dropped to the floor, and he lay still.
Chapter Seven
X's eyes twitched, the lights in the sockets blinking on and off. Slowly, agonizingly, his brain began operating again. He tried to pull himself into a vaguely upright position, but a searing pain burst through the fog that was his mind, and he slumped to the floor.
Turning his neck slowly, he was briefly confused by the way the floor seemed to change texture as it spread away from him. He realized, after a few moments, that the carpet that used to be underneath him had been torn apart by the events of the night before. He could distinctly make out several huge gouge marks in the bare metal floor around him, which he took for the reason why there were several long strips of metal clinging to his fingers.
As the pain slowly subsided, he pulled himself to his feet. Swaying slightly, he wandered over to the couch and sat down.
"Rescue."
"No."
"You must."
"Will it make you shut up?"
The voices had come back, it seemed.
"Why do I need to help this person I don't even know?"
"She is your creator."
"I'm X, remember? The bioengineers created me."
"They created your personality. A very disfunctional one, too."
"You're not that great either."
"Help her. She can help you."
"Somehow, I doubt that."
"She can get rid of us."
"Us?"
"The voices. Us."
"Damn. You've given me a good reason to help her out."
"Help her."
"I really don't feel like it right now."
"You know you have no choice. Would you like us to repeat last night?"
"Preferably, no."
"Then you have no choice."
"Fine! But not yet. Give me a few days... I still have to adjust..."
It was then that ZIM walked into the room, whistling and carrying a plate of pancakes. GIR soon followed carrying a baby. They sat down on the couch next to X, and GIR stuffed the baby into his mouth, issuing gurgles of glee as he did so.
"So... what's happening?" ZIM tried, hoping very much that he wouldn't have missiles aimed at him ever again.
"Not much... ZIM, what do you actually do all day? I mean, you're kind of... uh... 'well known' back on Irk, but no one knows what you do..."
"Eh... I... conquer this planet! Yes... ZIM is conquering!"
"Well, all the other invaders have conquered their planets already, I hear..."
"LIES!"
"No, I've been to a lot of them. Very nice parking structures."
"Eh... not lies... eh... they didn't have to contend with the humans! Yes... the humans are deadly to the touch! And they... uh... vomit acid!"
"Of course they do."
X tried to look sarcastic, then realized that he was no longer physically capable of doing so.
"Yes! That is why ZIM wears his protective disguise! Without it, the very atmosphere would burn off an Irken's skin!"
"I see."
"Now ZIM must be off to study the humans' weaknesses by observing their larva!"
ZIM walked towards the door, hoping that he could escape X for the time being.
"Not so fast!"
Ah well, at least he tried.
"What am I supposed to do?" cried X.
"How should ZIM know?"
"Uh... I guess I don't have much to do... I'll just come with you."
At the very least he could make a quick buck by selling DHDs of ZIM to the Irken public. Of course, that assumed that he ever got back to Irk.
"You can't leave like that!" yelled ZIM, "The humans! They'll know I'm here, and... uh... vomit acid at me!"
"Well, what if I... uh..."
Suddenly, X lost control of his body. He keeled forwards, falling towards the floor, but just as his feet were slipping from under him, he regained control and flipped back up onto his feet. Which weren't even robot feet anymore.
Looking down at himself, X had to struggle to keep himself away from utter hysteria. His hands were pink and had taken on a newfound squishy texture. His body was draped in a dark grey cloak, with a hood dangling down his back. Underneath the cloak was a dark blue shirt with a red Irken sign imprinted on it, the same as the one on his robotic forehead, and a pair of black pants partially covered by black boots. On a later occasion, X admitted that he thought he'd looked "Pretty cool."
But that wasn't all. X rushed to a mirror and gazed at his face. It too was pink and soft, and he had grown strange lumps all over him, two on the sides of his head and one in the middle. Perched on one of the lumps was a strange thin contraption that suspended dark blue lenses in front of his eyes and balanced on the other two lumps. Worst of all, however, was the abundance of thin, long yellow antennae dangling from his scalp, which obscured his vision and ran down the back of his neck.
"What... the... f-"
"Well... eh... that was kinda cool!" said ZIM, "Very good. Let's... uh... let's go!"
"What's happening to me?" screamed X, and ZIM dived for cover behind the couch, landing heavily on GIR. GIR giggled and shoved several babies into ZIM's mouth.
"You want a baby?"
Meanwhile, the voices were surfacing again, tearing at X's already fractured sanity.
"Quiet, you fool! This is normal! I simply activated your hologram disguise program!"
"Wha- wha- what did you say? Normal? Hologram? But... I'm... squishy... it's weird!"
"Simply a pattern of electrons simulating texture above your metal body."
"So... why? Why do I look so... hideous?"
"This is how all humans look. Let me explain."
And he did. ZIM lay behind the couch for several minutes, wondering why X kept on nodding his head and saying "Ah," "Oh," "Really?" and other things of such a meaning. It wasn't like anyone was talking to him.
"Well... eh... I guess that's all worked out then," said X as the voice finished explaining the nuances of the disgusting humans. It was actually quite nauseating. "Uh... come on out from behind the couch, ZIM. We'd better go to that place... with the larva..."
The two wandered down the street to school, ZIM taking care to remain on the opposite side of the street as X. They walked in and ZIM took his seat. X, looking around and seeing no seats, grabbed a nearby child and hurled them out the window before taking the newly vacated seat. Miss Bitters pretended not to notice. A student was a student, it didn't really matter which student.
She stood up.
"You're late again, ZIM. What's your excuse this time? And don't try the "mutant beaver attack" excuse again. I know for a fact that those bite marks were cause by rabid urban ninja wallabies."
"Uh... I am sorry, oh great teacher, but ZIM was busy... helping the new foreign exchange student!" He pointed at X.
Miss Bitters grunted, but seeing no obvious flaws in ZIM's excuse, except possibly that the new student was as tall as a fully grown adult, returned to her desk.
"Today class, we are having a pop quiz on modern politics. By the end of class, I expect to see a sixty page essay from each of you explaining how modern politics will doom us all!"
One of the girls frowned, started coughing mucus onto her desk, continued coughing mucus onto her desk, stopped, and squeaked, "But... but our only textbooks are brochures for various ways to enjoy a weekend in Seattle..."
Miss Bitters loomed over the unfortunate girl. "Well I'm sorry, Zeeta! When I was in school, all we had to learn was learnt by trying to find meaning in the fetid organs of week-old fish!"
Zeeta's bottom lip trembled, tears welling up in her eyes.
"Now work! All of you!" screamed the teacher before sliding back towards her desk.
Hurriedly, all the children took out paper and started rubbing small sticks on it, leaving a trail of carbon across the sheet.
X, not wanting to seem strange because of his lack of writing utensils, grabbed the girl next to him and threw her through the ceiling before quickly switching seats.
After ten minutes, X realized that nothing useful would come of just sitting here, and his eyes darted around, looking for an exit. They fell on the hole in the window on the other side of the class room, and X ducked beneath his desk and slowly crawled across the room. When he got there, he hopped up on the windowsill, but just before he jumped down...
"MISS BITTERS! The new kid is trying to-"
The loudmouthed child never finished that sentence, however, since a small dart flew into his neck, sending several thousand volts of electricity through the unfortunate wretches body. The child slumped to the floor, his heart stopped. Sensing this, the dart initiated a second burst of excruciating energy, effectively jump starting the vital organ and sending the child into a mad screaming fit.
Smiling, X stared down at the patch in his arm where the dart had flown from. I could grow to like this, he thought to himself, before leaping across the school yard.
Chapter Eight
The metropolis stretched before X like a never ending forest. That is, a never-ending forest made of concrete and glass. But it was pretty none the less, and being among sky scrapers made X feel slightly more at home.
He'd scaled the largest building he could find in the surrounding area, and took a deep, simulated breath of fresh air. The SMNM seemed to be adjusting to suit his needs, sensing that he just couldn't remain sane without some of the feelings that a regular being has. And it was admittedly a lot easier to climb when your muscles are made up of pistons and energy cells. Technically he could of used his spider-legs or the built-in jet pack he'd discovered when browsing through blueprints, but where's the fun in that? Besides, then the tracking device would be able to transmit his location to the Massive. X had no way of knowing that the tracker was now better suited to a job as a paper weight than as a piece of military equipment.
A faint sound reached his ears. The moment he tried to concentrate on it, a scrolling sound wave appeared in the top right corner of his vision, and a greatly amplified version of the sound was played back to him. He stopped it. He rewound it and listened again. That was odd. He'd hardly ever heard a scream of fear before. There'd been plenty of screaming back on Irk, but it had all been screams of rage. If you got robbed on Irk, you had only yourself to blame.
He threw himself into empty space, arms spread out wide like a bird, a creature which he had only just become familiar with. The wind whistled past him as he hurtled downwards towards the street. The screaming grew louder, and he could tell that it was coming from an alley nearby. He extended a spider-leg from his Pak and grabbed the side of the building, hurling himself sideways with it.
He landed in the entrance to the alley with an impact heavy enough to send a spider web of cracks through the sidewalk around him. A man in the alley span around, pointing a small L-shaped piece of metal at him. It was some kind of primitive gun, X was sure of that.
"What the f--- was that?" yelled the man. "Oh... it's just a kid. Hey kid, run along. Don't make me do something I don't want to."
X walked forwards slowly. Behind the man, he saw, was a large plastic container filled with black plastic bags. The smelt like trash, but X didn't really mind. Trash was a prevalent smell on Irk. Lying against the container was a human female. Blood was trickling down from her scalp and nose, and she was her breathing was rapid and frightened.
"Come on, kid. Don't make me hurt you!"
The mugger was carrying a bag that matched the woman's clothing. X could guess what would be inside.
"I have nothing against thieves," X said slowly, meaningfully, "Nothing like a little thieving to get the heart going in the morning. But hurting someone who won't even hurt you? Isn't robbing them enough?"
"Hey kid, come on! I swear..." the man raised the piece of metal to eye level, "I swear I will if I have to!"
"Try it. I dare you." said X, spider-legs slowly unfurling from his back, blocking the light from the entrance to the alley and making him look like a giant fly spreading its wings.
"Oh my god!" screamed the man, and he pulled the trigger. Fire burst out of the barrel, propelling a spinning chunk of lead faster than the speed of sound. A huge crack sounded as the bullet broke the sound barrier, and the mans arms recoiled backwards from the force of the shot.
There was a small clink as the bullet collided with X, and the bullet fell to the ground, leaving no mark on him other than a small spreading ripple in the hologram.
"Now," he said, his disguise retracting slightly to expose his glowing red eyes, "Care to try that again?"
The man screamed, pumping the trigger as fast as the gun would fire. The shots bounced harmlessly off of X's reinforced body. The gun's ammo clip was emptied in a matter of seconds, though, and the mugger had to reach into his coat to try and grab another clip.
"I don't think so," said X, and reinforced his statement with a spider-leg through the shoulder. The man flew backwards, blood squirting from his wound. It was really just a small flesh wound, but when you're being assaulted by some kind of robot spider-child, you don't stop to think how badly you're hurt. He screamed and clawed at the blood soaked hole in his coat, dropping the purse.
X didn't bother to wait for thanks from the woman, as she looked almost as scared as the mugger. He simply said "I think you'd better leave before he gets up," before leaping away and scampering up a building with his spider-legs.
He could grow to like this. He really could. Being bullet proof, and probably safe from many other weapons, not just primitive launched projectiles, was just the start. The suit recorded everything he saw or felt onto a huge hard drive that he could then view and edit at his leisure. He was currently busy rewatching his confrontation with the mugger. It really was amazing. He watched in slow motion the bullets spiraled out of the gun in a burst of flame, then saw an advanced x-ray of how his spider-leg had damaged not just the man's bone, but also skin, veins, and muscles. He watched a thermal scan of the blood spraying out of the wound, and could count the number of droplets that splattered on the ground.
This suit... this body was so advanced... Although he did miss being a creature of flesh and bone, it was clear that being made of a highly resiliant metal alloy did have its advantages. X rewound his memory and watched again as the spike of metal drove through the muggers arm, focusing his view on the man's face. He looked absolutely terrified. He wound the memory back further and watched the man's face as X was just entering the alley. The man seemed confident enough. What could a kid, only 15 or 16 years old in Earth years, do to him? But then the cold truth hit the man with the force of a runaway freight train loaded with depleted uranium. The man's expression was replaced by a terrible fear, hideous, yet beautiful in its own way.
X looked down at his arms, now simply plates of overlapping metal filled with pneumatics and other technology. He flexed them, and they bent perfectly. He twisted his arms around themselves, and was surprised to find that he was even more flexible than ever before. But he had one person to thank for this new freedom, and it damn well wasn't either of the Almighty Tallest.
"Free her."
"I will."