Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything in this story owns me.

5. The Zipper Goes on the Back

"Remind me again why I'm here," I, Morrick, asked the large alien I was following. With a duffel bag full of cleaning supplies - not trusting her to have the proper things, and preferring my familiar bottles to whatever she had - I trudged loyally behind K'ata.

"Since you seem apt at such things as cleaning, you are going to help me clean my ship," she said. Was it just me, or had she gotten more… evil, in the week she'd been here, on Earth? Maybe I was rubbing off on her. Hey, it could happen.

"Okay. And is your ship in Mexico, or are we close yet?" I asked in my growly voice. Really, we'd been walking for like an hour. My feet were tired. My entire me was tired I'd been telling her this about every two minutes since my watch had announced the fact that we'd been walking for a whole, fregmekking hour. I was glad that all the land in the area was owned by either my family, Liz's family, or Tim or Sam's families.

"It is close," was all she'd reply. Yeah, well, it was close an hour ago. Some brave soul needs to revise your meaning of the word close. I considered doing it, but she seemed overly fond of smacking me on the head when I tried to correct her… weirdnesses.

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet, Daddy?"

"Shall I take that as an insult?" she asked, cracking her knuckles ominously.

"Please do. I absolutely love being pummeled." In the words of the magnificent Bartimaeus, this is sarcasm. "So, are we there yet?"

"Morrick."

"Yers?"

"Make the pig sound."

"You've been--" I began, and then realized that something was screwy. "That wasn't what I thought you'd say," I said poutily.

"No, and that was not how I'd expected you to reply, either," she said, making the confused clicking sound.

"Some idiot switched the scripts!" I said extravagantly. (You may not have realized this yet, but we're all being controlled by some freaky chick with too much time and a lawn gnome audience. Oh, wait, you aren't supposed to know this. Oops.) "Um, what's yours say for the title?"

"Chapter Six: The Introduction of Sam, Tim, and Alvin," she said without gusto. "Yours?"

"Chapter Five: The Zipper Goes in the Back," I said, wondering who really makes up these stupid titles. "Hey, anonymous camera guy!"

The dude with the camera said, "Yeah?"

"Which chapter are we on?"

"Uh, five? Yeah, it's five."

I waited for him to take the initiative. He didn't. "Uh, guy? Chapter five script, if you please. Haven't you been paying attention?" He was watching us, for gods' sakes.

"Oh." He tossed me the script. "Child actors, Jeesh."

"Loser camera guys with no attention spans, Jeesh," I fired back, at risk for getting my head cut off in most of the shots. "Don't give him back the other one," I told K'ata and gave her the other script. "We might actually get to edit it now, if we have enough advance time." I gave her a conspiratory wink.

She thumbed through the Five script, and asked, "Okay, where were we?"

"Um… After I said 'yers', the scripts messed up."

"Okay." She gave the rest of the thing a quick read through, and said, "Do the world a favor and shut up."

"You've been talking to Liz, haven't you?"

"Yers," she said back at me, saying it much better than I do. Well, she has dreadlocks, what else would you expect? "Hey, guess what?" she asked cheerfully.

"What?" I asked, feeling annoyed. One minute she's angsty, the next she's cartoon cheery. Maybe she's bipolar. Liz has the medication for that, and if we got her to take some… Crap, she can hear what I think.

"And that is not a blessing. We are there now." The gestured to a really huge blur.

All along the way, I'd been fantasizing about what the ship would be like. Everything from the yellow Hitchhiker Vogon ships to the sleek, opalescent Wraith darts had crossed my mind. I was wrong in every way. It was, in fact, a really huge Lantean puddle-jumper with Klingon influences that looked like there was more of it embedded in the earth. It had a really funky paint job too: green, with blue shimmery undertones.

Something was screwy here. Namely, the fact that this ship was the wrong shape. The one from the first night was arrowhead-shaped. This wasn't. "What happened to the other ship?" I asked.

"It is docked within. Come," she said with the false imperiousness that I'd taught her. "We are wasting time."

"Says the alien with the seven hundred year or so life span," I retorted, grinning.

"With you around, it may be just two," she fired back. I was glad that she got the whole witty banter thing, but I'm supposed to have the last word. Bloody writers…

We entered the ship, and the first thing I noticed was a new smell, a sort of pineapple-y smell. I sniffed about obviously. "Narcium," K'ata said when she noticed me. "Humans do not know it. We only learned of it a few of our generations ago."

"The dawn of human civilization," I interjected helpfully.

"Be that as it may," she said, "I would be careful, were I you. Honestly, going about, sniffing every foreign smell you find. I might be using airborne poisons, and you'd never even suspect until your skin started to bubble."

I laughed, and then asked solemnly, "You really have stuff that can do that?"

She laughed at me, and nodded. "We have stuff much worse than that. That's mild compared to some of the biological weapons we have."

"I thought you guys liked face to face combat, and all that, like in the movies," I said as we walked. I think we were in the walls, heading down.

"The guys do. We, however, prefer to decimate our enemies quickly, if not cleanly." It occurred to me that I was possibly dealing with a sadist. Before I could ask her, she said, "We do not consider Earth advanced enough to be an enemy, an ally, or neutral. Your planet is like a child that cannot make its own decisions."

"Gee, thanks. I feel so loved," I said, the sarcasm dripping off me. "You've given me something new to nightmare about." Okay, sweet-thang, change the subject. "When are we gonna start cleaning?"

"Oh, that. Morrick, I lied to you. We're not here to clean." She avoided my open-mouthed stare remarkably well, but she lost to me in the end. "Please close your mouth. I assure you, I mean you no harm by this."

Backing away from her, (and not into a wall or chair this time, I might add) I said, "Yeah, sure, they all say that, and then they kill you." Liz's stories, her fan fictions that supposedly ended up being true, swarmed into my mind, filling me with dread.

"Morrick," she said logically, "I just want to run a few tests on you. They won't hurt you. I was afraid that if I told you, you'd refuse."

"Damn straight, I'd refuse! So, you lie to me instead? That isn't how you keep friends, and I wanted you to be a friend, instead of the freaky alien chick that lives with me." Oh, gods, I was babbling, and close to sobbing. Tears wouldn't help this, though; I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted blood a moment later.

"Morrick, why don't you want me to test you?"

"You--!" I didn't know why. Why didn't I want to be tested? "Er… I'm not sure. It was just like a… a reflex!" This was confusing.

"A conditioned response," she said. "And no doubt you have no idea who conditioned you, do you?"

"Do you mean conditioned like brainwashed?" I asked. "If you do, then I think I know who did it. My friend Tse, she's into hypnotism and stuff like that, and she--"

"No human agency is capable of true conditioning," she said severely. "Brainwashing can be seen through. Conditioning is a complete changing of the conscious and subconscious minds."

"Oh. Crap."

"With the tests I had intended to administer upon you, I would have known at least who did it and how severe it is," she continued softly.

"'Ere, whatcha mean, 'intended'? You can still do 'em, right?" I asked comically. Maybe it was the patheticness of my attempt to cheer her, or maybe it really worked, but either way, she seemed happier. With an embarrassed shock, I noticed that I was still on the wall; even worse, it (the wall) was curved, and it was a bit difficult to get out of. With effort, I was able to, and I linked my arm with K'ata's, even if it did make me feel, more than ever, like an exceptionally puny human.

And so, she led me off to what might be called a lab. Only, a very high-tech looking lab. She put me (literally, she lifted me off the floor like a doll) on a recliner-looking chair thing, and to my shock and horror, strapped me into it. Her excuse: "One, I am evil, as you put it, and two, some species have been known to have adverse reactions, such as convulsions, fainting, and mild temporary insanity, to our scanning systems. You might fall off, and we'd have to start all over." Gods, why did I feel like a frog on dissection day?

She drew my blood, and she was obviously good at this, because I didn't even feel the needle as it entered my neck. Why am I not freaked out by the fact that I'm being stabbed in the neck with a big needle by an alien? I couldn't-- No, I didn't want to move. I don't think I could have convinced myself to move at all. This is scary, I tried to say, and I couldn't speak either. I'm going to kill her if I ever get out of this.

As if through fog, I heard K'ata. "You are not capable of killing me. And do not lay blame upon me for this. I have done nothing which might paralyze you."

Ah, yes, the wonder that is telepathy. I started to think unpleasant things at her, such as scenes from Spongebob and a very scary idea of what she'd look like dressed in Bjork's swan dress. I think she might have smacked me, but I'm not sure.

I stopped being an idiot and tried to figure out why I was stuck. Needle, scanning chair, the air… The Narcium! Yes, I am a genius.

"Mmph," K'ata said. "So that must be why the others say we have an intolerable air of coolness."

You make bad puns, I thought at her. And you're intolerable, alright. How do we fix this, then?

"Eh, I'm not sure. But, while you're being still, I'm going to run the scan and test your blood for mutagens. You never know, you know?"

No, I don't know, and I'm not sure I want to know. Realizing that I was about to be scanned with something that caused mild temporary insanity, I thought at her, Hey, don't run--

When I woke up, I was outside, lolling over on a tree. It was quite pleasant for a very brief moment, and then I remembered my alien roommate.

"Where are you, you evil, conniving, scheming,--" I ran out of words. Getting no response from my adjectives, I said, "K'ata? Roomy?" Again, no response. "Halloo?"

I heard a rather undignified thump somewhere over to my right. "You ruined a perfectly good nap, boy-o," K'ata said as she dusted herself off. Not very catlike, that fall.

"You-- Oh. Sorry."

"What?" she asked as I meandered off into muttering incomprehensively.

"Sorry, I seem to be remembering everything in fragments. Swirly fragments," I added when I started feeling dizzy. I was very glad that I'd remained sitting, otherwise I'd've fallen flat on my face.

"Do I need to give you another needle to make you sleep some more?" she asked calmly.

I was glad that my reflexory emotions were reacting properly now. With a horrified expression on my face, I told her, "No. Needles. And definitely not whatever you put in them the last time." She laughed. "'T isn't funny. You're not the one coming off a bad trip. I saw albino ferrets, and they were doing bad things…" Another bit of my memory swirled by, and I asked her, "So, who brainwashed me?"

"The Ancients. I'd thought they were extinct, all dead and gone, but nooo, can't give poor K'ata a break, can they?" she said with distaste. At my questioning look, she said, "They're old, older than the Yautja, older than the Gou'ald, definitely older than humans. They were supposedly killed off by the Wraith, but with this… They're the original founders of the human race."

"And these people are who to me?" I asked sullenly.

"It doesn't matter now. The deed has been done, no helping it. The only thing we can do is find out what it is they conditioned you for." She fell off into musing.

"Uh huh. Well, as lovely as that sounds, I'm going home," I said. My hands itched. When I looked at them, there were rather inflamed puncture marks under each knuckle. "How'd this happen?" I asked her, brandishing the wounds.

"Oh, I was playing Poke-In-The-Dark, and you happened to be--"

"Nuh-uh. None of that. For once in my life, I'm being serious. How'd these get here?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes! Now stop playing games with me!" Well, would you be happy if someone'd done this to you?

"There were tracking nanytes in your hands. I removed them," she said, and overrode me when I tried to interrupt. "Not only could they track you, they could track me, and they were programmed to explode if your conditioning failed."

I said nothing. She went on, "It is for the best that they are gone. What is strange is that these are Replicator-based."

"I give up!" I practically screamed at her. Tossing my hands into the air, I headed for home. She followed, and stopped me. Grabbing me by the hair, she made me look at her. I complied, as being bald isn't really on my list of things I'd like to have happen. "Sorry," I said as I blinked away tears. (What? She's really strong. It hurt.) "But, begging your royal pardon, what right have you to go about knocking people out and removing their nanytes?" I asked.

She released my hair, and I rubbed at my scalp. (And tried to neaten my bouffant hairstyle, but we'll leave that out of the mainstream, shall we?) "You aren't a person," she said, trying to cheer me. "You barely qualify as a sentient being."

"I guess our meanings of that are different. I don't wanna know any more about Ghouls, or Wraiths, or old people. I just wanna go home and make really bad pizza. I wanna read Liz's diary, and parody it at her online." All that with only one breath.

"Alrighty then," she said, and I was left with the horrid idea of Jim Carey and the Whosamacallums together in the same universe.

I feel dejected. Liz is at therapy. It's not her therapy day. Sam - just picture a bouncy redheaded girl, and you'll be fine - called and said that Liz's mom had had another nervous breakdown, and she'd dragged Liz down with her. Supposedly, she'd pumped Uncle Byron for information, and he'd ended up getting drunk from about six of Sam's signature martinis, (okay, so what she's not even eighteen yet; we have problems) and told her everything. Poor Sammykins…

So, no diary, unless I use the window, and one of the aunts will see me and make me use the door and force tea on me again and it's too late in the day for caffeine and… Alright. I've had a few Pixie Styx.

K'ata says I'm overreacting to the loss of my nanytes. Bugger the nanytes. I'm reacting quite normally to being lied to, drugged, scanned, drugged again she told me, scanned again, operated on, and all manner of other tests done on me too, "since I was already out". Forget this. I can't even remember the summer of my tenth year, I don't want to. I know it has something to do with that, and I don't want to know. Guilt is innocence, innocence is ignorance, ignorance is bliss, and to the Catholic Church, bliss is guilt. See, it all comes full circle.

Of course, K'ata says that I'm being stupid in my quest for un-knowledge. Bugger her too.

Unpleasant thoughts keep entering my head. Like, perhaps, maybe, I could let Lawrence the Dog out and make him kill the poodles. But this is bad, my more logical self says. Yes, it's bad, and that's why we want to do it, Morrick-Gollum says. But we don't want to kill the poodles. Yes we do. No no no!

Meanwhile, K'ata is reading Jane Eyre. I think she can see my obvious Gollum moment, and I think she's ignoring me. Or is she. I don't know. I know nothing, nothing, nothing of this, ha ha ha ha!

And then I got thumped on the head with Jane. K'ata stabbed another needle into my neck, and the poodles that were swirling around on the ceiling disappeared. "I suppose you have a good reason for that," I said chipperly.

"One, you were hallucinating, and two, your conditioning is beginning to surface," she said glumly. "It might be wise to sedate you."

"Lovely. Go ahead. You own me. In fact, I sign away all rights to free will and all that beaurecratic nonsense. Bah, who needs it? You own me, and it's never been any different, ha ha…" and on and on I babbled until she put the needle in my neck.

A few hours later, I awoke in my room, sprawled out on my bed. A note with really pretty handwriting was taped to my forehead, and it read,

Morrick,

Do not leave your house. Do not take any medication. I will explain later.

And at the bottom of it was a weird symbol, like a cursive G only with way too many loops.

"Great," I said dully. "She can write now."

A/N: The lawn gnome made me do it. Morrick is gonna kill me if ever he finds this.

olafur: Ha ha, funny image, but no, he'd faint, more likely. 'Tis quite alright. I am an enigma, to be sure. But hmm… they aren't supposed to come search Earth for a while now… Or are they? With that paranoid note…

zappy: Cookies are the food of the gods. And reviews are fun, but I'm not all that concerned with them. Besides, the lawn gnome gets after me if I waste too much time checking for reviews. 0.O