a meditation on the cost of love, Invader Zim style
by J. Random Lurker
Chapter Two: The Challenge
DAY ONE: (Dib)
It comes when I least expect it, of course. The call I've been waiting for, hoping for, fearing for years.
"Hello, -Dib-. I know you're still listening. Maybe you've even been waiting for this. I bet you have been. Are you -there-, human? Are you -listening-? Respond."
DAMMIT, why didn't I hook up the microphone?! I scream at the monitor, knowing he can't hear me, "WAIT, WAIT!" I make myself type out something for the computer to transmit - a generic reply to the signal - and scramble downstairs to get my headset, after setting my computer to start recording the incoming transmission. Tear apart my room, throwing things around desperately, where are they, WHERE..? There! YES! Almost break my leg climbing back up, hands shaking and sweaty as I plug in the last cable, headphones on, microphone activated, HURRY UP INITIALIZE GODDAMMIT, Zim, keep talking...!
FINALLY! Connected. Done. I screech into the mike, my voice distorted with feedback in my headphones. I sound nervous and shaking and every inch panicked and desperate. Probably 'cause I am.
"ZIM! Where are you?"
I grin stupidly, hugely, my heart's going a million miles an hour screaming yes god yes Zim YES!
There's a slight delay. Silence. Line static. Hope to God he's just waiting for the computer to encode the reply and transmit.. Slow computer. Three processors out of date. Should have upgraded. Why didn't I upgrade? Slacking. Got lazy. No reason to keep up.
My God, I'm hanging on every second. Have to remember to breathe. Don't think about how insane it is to be attempting to talk real-time with someone who could be four or five galaxies away. Don't think about it.
"Away," Zim's response comes finally, smooth and sly and about as helpful as I expected. "Affairs of state."
What?!
"But... heh. Don't worry about that. I'm on my way back now. You should be able to see me pretty soon. I'm already inside the outer edge of your sad little solar system, Dib."
Another long pause.
"I should reach Earth in three days."
Something about the tone of his voice. Smugger than even his usual, more smug than I remember it being. But it's been years. Maybe I've forgotten things. Scary thought. Something... he's hiding something...yeah! The 'I've got a secret and you'll never know it' tone...!
"What are you planning, Zim?!" I demand across the line.
"That's for me to know and you to find out. Three days, human. You have three days."
The computer notifies me of a lost signal.
My heart still races. Slowly I take the headphones off and stand on the roof, stare up at the sky, my mouth hanging open. Something inside me screams with fear and insane joy; I want to run and hide, I want to jump up and down and shout and scream! They're coming! Hell with that, ZIM's coming! It's just like... just like...
You have three days.
Why does that sound so much like... a warning? A challenge? A threat?
WHAT's coming in three days? I have to find out!
I'm shaking so bad. Like an addict finally getting a fix again after ten years of forced sobriety and the chemicals flare in my head and the yearning smashes back in, aching and hard, reminding my body what it wanted and why it wanted and how GOOD it felt to be addicted...
And the game's starting up again.
Three days.
What are you planning, Zim?
Three days.
I don't have time to waste!
I haven't been so happy in years.
- - -
Alright, have to remember. Have to THINK! What do I do first?
I'm in my room, scanning through old CD-R's burned full of notes, the clock ticking away the seconds on my watch, a timebomb strapped to my wrist. Every second I grudge, but I have to REMEMBER WHAT TO DO.
The notes. The ship! I could just fly up and meet him in the middle!
No. Stupid. Can't risk the ship. My best weapon. Not yet. Okay. I flip through screens. Zim's old base... yeah. Check there first. If he's coming back something might have changed at the site. I can hack his computer. Zim used to have remote monitors all over the solar system. I can use those!
Perfect.
Time to suit up.
- - -
One hour later. Homework forgotten. Sleep irrelevant. I'm eating on the way, filling myself up with sugar and carbohydrates and caffeine in the form of donuts and triple-shot espresso with whipped cream. Steering one-handed, traffic's light at this hour so it doesn't matter anyway.
I pull my little black car up to the side of the street where I KNOW Zim's stupid little house used to be, switch the lights off and peek out through the passenger-side window.
I almost drop my coffee on myself.
It's not there. It's SO not there! It's completely covered by some OTHER stupid little house, a white house with flowery curtains that doesn't have flamingos and creepy lawn gnomes and "I love Earth" flags and a men's bathroom tag on the front door.
SHIT.
I should have BEEN so lucky. Is that a new planted-house of Zim's, or was someone actually stupid enough to build a house right over the spot? Land prices and urban congestion being what they are, I wouldn't be surprised if it were the latter.
Okay, don't panic. Not yet. I rummage in the bag in the passenger seat and slip on a visor-scanner, training it on the new house. I think I see movement. Let's see if you're really HUMAN or not. I have to KNOW, the world might depend on it!
Wow. Feels good to be thinking that way again. It's who I AM. Not that damn braindead drone sitting behind a desk. THIS is me, the REAL me! Obsessive and freaky and paranoid and God am I grateful for this moment right here, right now. One more hit, feels so good...
I flick through the scanner dial at my ear to X-ray, my vision washing red, crosshairs tracking onto the surface of the house, the unit's processor scanning through, peeling back the first layer, piercing the insulation, looking straight inside. I see figures moving around inside, and taste disappointment and frustration to recognize them as human; one showering, one watching television on a couch. They're not robots or robo-parents; it would show clearly if they were. No kids, at least, but DAMN it. This complicates things.
I rip my gaze down, away from the house, into the lawn. I bet there's still vestiges of the lab there, entrenched in the soil like an ant-colony. Crank up the magnification... c'mon, c'MON...
Ping. Ping ping ping there it IS, I can see metal substrate under the surface of the street, the labs are still THERE...! I'm amazed nobody discovered it while they were laying foundation for the new house, but then again... heh. People can be really stupid sometimes. And lacking in even basic curiosity... if it's unexpected, just get rid of it, don't think about what it might actually BE...
Works in my favor this time, although the house thing is gonna be a REAL problem. I had a bunch of alternate entrances mapped out; maybe I can use one of those. Take another bite out of this cruller; the coffee's getting cold. Pull my laptop across my legs. Check the notes again. Man, I was one hell of an anal kid. Smart kid, too. These intensive notes are gonna save my ass now. It's starting to come back to me, but not fast enough; having these helps a LOT. Thanks, younger-me.
Two possible secondary entrances; one behind the house, one a bit down the street in a neighbor's yard. Great. I'm not crazy about the idea of being arrested for breaking and entering, so we'll try the alternate first and then see how that goes.
One hour, twenty minutes.
- - -
No go. I can only get about twenty feet down into the tunnel with the secondary entrance before I find it blocked, torn open and the end crammed full of dirt. Well, that's back to square one then: the entrance in the backyard of the new house, assuming they haven't covered THAT up too with a patio or something.
I dressed in matte black for exactly this kind of situation. I cover my hands with thin stretchy gloves and pull a mask on as well; not so much to hide my identity or anything, but just because I can't let any skin show. The shadows are gonna be my best friends for a little while; witness me in stealth form!
I take the bag with me, slip out of the car quietly, and dart across the street, sprinting around the edges of the lights thrown down by the streetlamps. Wish I'd had time to make up a decent suit of Dad's lightbending polymer stuff. Again, too lazy. Now, no time... What was I -thinking-?
Well, I know what I was thinking. Still thinking. I might get captured doing this. Not arrested, I hope- that wouldn't be any fun at all- but there's a lot of CABLES down there and I'm out of practice and I've got a lot more mass to swing around than I did when I was a kid and if the computer's feeling malicious enough...
Okay. Stopping that train of thought before it derails me. Geez, Dib! Put the monster back in your pants RIGHT NOW. Right. Hormone switch in the OFF position. (Sure, THAT'S easy.) Safely across the street. No sign of reaction from the front yard or inside the house. Everything's quiet.
Please don't make this have to be harder than it has to be...
- - -
My hands are dirty. It's all I can do to keep from screaming, swearing out loud, and throwing a fit of rage right there in the middle of the house's backyard. It's GONE. The damn entrance is GONE. It's impossible that it could have moved... and I can't risk blasting at it out here in the open. The blast would attract WAY too much attention.
I lift my head up, after grinding the back of my booted foot deep into the lush green grassy turf where that iris-porthole should have been. Glare at the back side of the house as if it's to blame.
DAMN it anyway!
I'm going to have to go in there. I NEED to get in. That's the last place left I can try... and if I have to start blowing shit up trying to blast my way down there, I need some kinda cover to work under.
There're people inside, I remind myself.
I should wait until tomorrow afternoon, bet they both work, could get in QUIETLY with a lot less trouble...
But I can't wait! I look at the watch on my wrist. Wasted nearly two hours already... I don't have TIME to sit around HOPING that they both leave! And I don't know if I can think of anything that would distract them enough to get them out of the house and not shake up the whole neighborhood in the process...
Every so often, I'm grateful I share Dad's insanely bizarre DNA. I haven't had much excuse to use it, but as I've gotten older more of the shall we say 'advanced' capacities of my genetic makeup have opened up... I lift my hand and watch the blue sparks curling along my wrist, dancing between my fingers, lines of Tesla's sacred fire. Then I move fast, finding the junction box at the side of the house. Kill the power first, that'll make it harder for them to react; people act stupid when the dark comes unexpectedly.
I put my palm against the side of the box and take a long breath- steadying myself, concentrating my power, feel it building inside, shining, crackling, tasting lightning on my tongue, there, just a little more ....NOW- BOOM. I overload the box with way more energy than it was ever meant to handle - just a brief, muffled flash of light under my fingers, funnelled into the switch- and feel grimly satisfied as I look up into the windows and see lights die one after another inside the house. I think I hear the man cursing as well.
Flick the scanner back over my eyes again, dial up night vision, and the world becomes outlines of green, rich shades of iridescent green like Zim's skin. He shimmered up close in the right lighting... why am I remembering this now? I haul ass to the back door, punch another quick flare of energy into the lock mechanism and blow its cylinders apart.
I kick my way inside, penetrating the house and almost falling over my own feet on the way in, my heart hammering. No time for panic. No time for thinking about what I'm doing. I gotta take control before they realize what's happening.
- - -
It smells like cigarette smoke and dust in here. I hear the man cursing loud as he stumbles around in the darkness of the house. I don't let it distract me. Gotta move fast, gotta KEEP moving. I still have the advantage of the shadows but it won't last. The second someone finds a flashlight or lights a candle, the gig's up, my night-vision visor'll be SCREWED. My heart is slamdancing inside my chest, adrenaline rush making me feel like God.
Scan the hallway. I see the woman emerging wet from the bathroom, towel held around her body and confused, starting to shout. Good, the towel'll keep her hands too busy to fight back. I think she sees me though, or senses me, because she suddenly SHOUTS with alarm. Shit. I move in fast, pushing up behind her back, twist my foot around the front of her ankle and yank back hard so she's off-balance, then lock my hand over her mouth and pull her shoulders back against my chest as she stumbles. She whimpers. I push my hand to the base of her spine, shoving a small blast of energy into her skin. Her scream goes flat under my glove.
There's a faint sizzling sound and burning smell as the electrical pulse hits her wet body. She falls limp in my hands, muscles spasming. I open my arms and let her body drop to the floor, then step over her.
I press flat to the nearest wall, the steam from the bathroom and my own nervous sweat gathering under my coat create painful humid heat. Between the cursing and the gleaming green vision of the night-vision visor I can see the man- large and rotund, probably twice my size, shit!- bumbling around some drawers in the kitchen. I tell myself careful, kitchens have knives. Weapons. I really don't even want to struggle with this guy, he looks like he could do me damage and I don't have TIME. I dial back over to x-ray, my vision swimming as everything changes from green to red, as skeletons and thin outlines replace solid walls. Better. A lot better. I can hit remotely from here and not even get hand to hand with this guy. He literally won't see what hit him.
The power builds, fueled by nervous brainchemicals, I am a body electric. I'm also nervous as hell. My teeth ache, my stomach burns. I let the shot go free, a screaming blast of bright energy that howls across the room and ...
Shit I -missed- how the hell could I MISS he whips around and yells something and
BLAM.
In that fraction of a second between report and crunch of impact in wall plaster I die fifteen times. Even though the shot didn't get anywhere near me, I still freeze at the explosive hammerbang and my heart jumps over the moon. If anyone HEARD that...
Who the hell keeps a gun in the kitchen? You idiot, you could HURT somebody firing blind don't you know that? I crouch down low behind the wall opposite the kitchen door; it'll cut my mobility but make me a smaller target and I gotta stay calm, make myself breathe, in out in. Loudest sound in the world, my breathing... there he's MOVING, stepping out of the kitchen; I roll forward and lash my foot out swing the heavy reinforced heel of my boot CRUNCH into his left calf and he cries and falls over and the gun skids out of reach along the floor.
And then I climb over him and crouch down on top of him and he smells like dirty sweat and he's swearing. I lock one fat wrist under my right foot and shove two fingers into the back of his neck and blast him hard, harder than I need to but I want this done NOW. The flare of my power throws the dark room into sharp relief for that instant, outlining furniture in pale pink light and sharp black shadow in my x-ray screen. Underneath me the large man grunts and goes into muscle spasm as he blacks out and in my nervousness, I almost let him have it again before I catch myself and slam on the brakes in my head.
I roll off ackwardly to the side and just breathe, make myself breathe, staring at the fallen lump of the 'man of the house'. His stink is all over me, I smell like his sweat. (God, I sound like Zim, don't I?) I laugh crazily in the dark.
It's Zim's fault! You bastard, look what you made me do!
I bet you didn't think I'd do it, did you, but I DID! I DID do it! I HAD to.
Not done yet, the area's not secure yet- I KNOW that. Get up and finish this, Dib, GET UP goddammit.
Yeah.
I feel weak as I stand up, dizzy and drained, my gut churns but I ignore it. It's just adrenaline sickness, my body doesn't like changing gears so fast. It'll pass.
I find the gun and pick it up, take it with me as I step back through the house, calm now, to go back outside and retrieve my bag. I poke my head outside as I'm pulling the bag off the back porch and slipping it over my shoulder, but the night is cool and quiet, I don't hear anything too unusual. Either the gunshot wasn't heard or was ignored, it seems like. Lucky for me.
After another look around, I shut the door behind me. Check my watch again. Almost two hours gone.
- - -
Science has invented a lot of cool stuff, a lot of really useful stuff- hell, my Dad's come up with some real breakthroughs in his time. In my mind though, science is always gonna be one step behind the curve until someone can invent something more universally useful than duct tape.
I love the stuff, and not just 'cause it's sticky and silver. I've always kept a roll or two around, even when I'm NOT busy fighting invading aliens- hell, it's saved my sorry butt more than once through the years.
It's also hard as hell to get out of when you're tied up in it. Heh, here I am strapping up these guys like Egyptian mummies and I'm suddenly remembering Gretchen in high skool and her funky purple hair and how good she was with duct tape. Mm. I can't help it, the sound of tape tearing off the roll makes me kinda nostalgic. Sure, she wasn't an alien or anything, but man, I still learned some... interesting stuff from her. I think I still miss her the most out of all the things I tried after Zim left. She was fun and funny and sexy as hell, but for some reason I can't clearly remember what happened to her. I vaguely recall something about her moving to another state. Most of my memories of her are deliciously tactile.
But she still wasn't Zim. And that's what this is all about.
Stupid alien.
Mm... I think this'll hold unless the big guy hulks out on me. And it doesn't have to hold for too long, once anyway; once I get down into the labs and take control of the security system down there, I don't really care what these two do. They won't be able to get near me.
I pause to map out the current structure of the house in my head, mentally overlaying Zim's original furnishings on the surroundings. The sad thing is he had better taste in interior design than these guys. Retro Americana by way of Hong Kong bootleggers, ugh. My mental map puts one entrance- that blue trash can of Zim's leading to a tunnel down to the equipment hall- underneath a wall. Where the old toilet used to be is now a few feet in from the back door, under linoleum. That seems the better place to try.
Briefly it occurs to me that I'm going to have to drill through at least a foot or maybe even more of cement in the foundation of the house to get to the lab entrances, and my heart just about falls into my stomach. I've never tried anything REMOTELY that powerful with my abilities before. I remember Dad blowing a hole through a two inch wooden door when Gaz and I were kids ... but concrete is even LESS conductive than wood. What I NEED is a jackhammer.
Shit. Don't tell me all this was for NOTHING!
If only there was a gnome still around. If I could tap a probe directly into even one line of wire, I could try to wake up Zim's computer. That thing could drill through the foundation easily... Dammit, I can't THINK right. After the effort of fighting, moving these two to their bedroom and then tying them up, I'm starting to feel shaky. Need more caffeine.
Time check. Two hours, twenty-five minutes.
I wonder if there's any coffee around here?
- - -
Beggars can't be choosers, but this coffee is terrible. I mean, really, really terrible. Tastes like silt filtered through Torque Smacky's underwear after a football game. Not that I would know anything about the taste of Torque's underwear.
Okay, fine. There was that one time. Like I said, I did a lot of fucking around trying to make up for Zim. I fully intend to collect for that, too, when we meet again.
I've converted the house's grimy little kitchenette into my operations center. I'm on the Net, using dialup, so I know there won't be any outgoing calls from here unless I make them. Archaic yeah, but old modems are a LOT harder for Carnivore 4 to dig its claws into- and I need to know that my activities online are secure.
Right now I'm doing two things. I'm pulling up the schematics of this house from the local records file- I got the brilliant idea that this house may be sharing an electrical feed with the same conduit Zim tapped into to power his base, and if I can track down the wiring, I might find an intersection I can use to hook a probe on and wake up the monster in the basement. I'm also monitoring half a dozen different feeds online: got television and police-band scanners going, and I'm hooked into the live camera feed from !NASAplace! in Houston. So far, it doesn't look like Zim's signal has reached anybody else but me, and it sure doesn't look like anyone else has gotten a whiff of it yet. I would have thought the VLA might have noticed -something-, but... Irken ships go far faster than light, so... heh, it's probably that he'll get here before the light from his ship does.
And the more I think about that, the more nervous it makes me. Zim must have been transmitting DIRECTLY to my computer, which means he knew the EXACT frequency of my receiver which means...
DAMMIT! I almost choke on the coffee, slam the coffee cup down on the counter and scramble to the table, start typing FAST. Gotta check my computer's system logs and run anti-invasion script to see if anything's been messed with... and I'm thinking, AGAIN, thank God I was smart enough to burn everything onto disc!
And there IS something there, nestled in an directory of archived random junk I haven't looked at in something like a year and a half. A nice shiny new little folder I sure as hell didn't put there. Labeled "HelloDib". I can almost HEAR Zim's smug little voice saying it. Almost FEEL him whispering the words over my shoulder in my ear, that self-satisfied little smirk curling his mouth...
Hello, Dib...
I feel suddenly dizzy, a sharp painful sensation building up in my guts. But maybe that's just the coffee burning a hole in my intestines... How the HELL did he get around my system's defenses... ?!
... because I wasn't running them! Which the logs are blandly pointing out to me in black and white. According to this, the last time I used them was to cover my butt two weeks ago while I was doing a little poking around NASAplace's design files to pick up the newest changes to the stardrive engine prototype nobody is supposed to know our military's had for the last two years...
DAMMIT! Could I GET any sloppier? So much for Dib the genius-son-of-a-genius- this is what I get for letting my OTHER head do the thinking for me! To say that I'm pissed off at myself is an understatement. To say that I want more than anything to click on that stupid little folder, no matter what kinda brutal trojan-crap Zim's loaded it with, is also an understatement.
I start up my suite of hacking tools and antiviral defenses and system monitors and cue them to completely isolate the folder the -second- I access it. I swallow back a sudden painful lump in my throat, my hands beginning to feel damp over the keys. I should just delete it, I know, I know, I KNOW! Just nuke it so it can't DO anything, nuke it and bleach the drive sectors... but...
But I want to KNOW what's IN there...! And I know he KNOWS I want to know... dammit!
Staring at the screen, I lick my lips anxiously. I'm screaming at myself in my head, but the nice thing is I'm really good at ignoring myself too. Don't be stupid. Don't be stupid. You KNOW better...! Don't be stupid! My fingers stroke the touch-mouse to guide the cursor over to the folder icon. Slip the headphones on, too. Finger on the enter key...
You ever been really deeply involved in doing something on the computer and a program you forgot was running makes a wake-up sound that scares the shit out of you because it's abrupt and fifteen times louder than what you were doing? And had it happen while you were wearing headphones...? I JUMP, yelping, and almost fall on my face when my foot tangles up abruptly between the table and chair legs. The laptop slides off the table, bounces off my thigh and clatters over the linoleum. As I catch my breath and wait for my caffeinated stomach to stop spinning, I realize the machine finished downloading this place's schematics.
And Zim is still waiting for me.
- - -
There's a video file, and something else, a file-type my computer doesn't recognize marked with an orange question-mark icon.
He's looking right at me. Tight closeup; just his red eyes, lipless mouth, noseless face. His eyes are full of reflected lights, little squares of color that flicker and change as he talks, glancing down occasionally to review something on a screen below him, then looking back up at me. I stare back, the screen streaked with jumping, erratic jagged white lines that spike as he talks; it forces me to focus hard to understand the words. It's incredible, though. Who knows how far this message traveled to get to me? Just to ME...
So you've found the file. Good. I expected no less. I bet I can guess where you are now, too. You're at my old base now, or near it, aren't you?
Yeah, you got me, Zim. Pretty predictable, huh? He was the only one who ever really bothered to -know- me well enough to -predict- me. Is it insane to feel glad to be known? I grin at the screen, even in spite of myself ; my face is getting hot. Even while my chest freezes and I feel my breath locking up behind my throat.
He's putting a noose on me, and I'm letting him do it, I know. Give a man enough rope...
I imagine things there may have changed during my absence. To show I'm not entirely without sympathy for your efforts, I'm going to give you a little encouragement.
The tips of his fingers appear; steepling before his mouth. His eyes narrow.
Think of the file I'm attaching as the electronic version of a key left under the doormat. IF you can get into my system, IF you can wake up its dormant central core, then feed it this file, and you may use my machine however you like. Of course, there's not much left down there to BE used... but that's your problem, not mine. Nothing you can do will change anything now anyway.
He grins. My chest hurts to see it.
Time's slipping away, Dib...
End of file.
It takes me a minute or two to remember how to think. I can't concentrate on anything. I just back up the file and play it again, staring at his mouth, letting his voice flay my ears with dirty silk, watching the colors run. His voice makes me hard; makes my dick throb. I close my eyes and breathe it in, breathe in the pain and the wanting.
I slide down in the chair and take my hands off the keyboard, pop the zipper-tab at my collar down.
Fuck the world. I need this.
-Zim...-
- - -
A/N: Yeah, I know, I'm going to hell for this one... jrandomlurker-at-yahoo-dot-com