Zim began re-wiring the defense systems of the Planet Express headquarters, his PAK having had ample time to adapt to all the futuristic technology of the past week. The Voot Runner was still repairing itself, something Zim had wished to perform during the last seven days but hadn't wanted to risk, even if the Professor had originally said his goal was to get Zim and Gir back home. The mere thought of that smelly, angry old human caused Zim to flinch momentarily, but he soon got back to the task at hand. A few more modifications and he would be able to erect a force field around the entire building that would keep his futuristic foes out of his business until he could attain launch for the journey back to the 21st century - with Gir, of course.

Gir, meanwhile, was happily humming to himself in a corner, watching the popular 30th century robotic soap opera "All my Circuits" on a small monitor when he began hearing a mechanized voice calling to him.

"Gir ..." it came, seemingly from nowhere and yet everywhere.

"You talkin' to me?" queried Gir to the characters on the screen, particularly lead automaton Calculon; but no one on the tube acknowledged that they had heard the little bot, so he simply went back to humming and watching.

"Gir ..." came the voice again, beckoning to him. Gir looked around warily, then shrugged his shoulders and got up and walked towards the voice. He ambled inside a small four-walled structure complete with one-way plasti-glass windows the Professor had erected as a shield against radiation experiments, and when Gir got inside he noticed it was dark, and red, and hot, at least according to his limited sensors; and sitting there in all his mechanized satanic glory was the Robot Devil himself.

"Hello, Gir!" smiled the Devil. Gir looked dumbfounded, which wasn't too far removed from his normal state.

"Who you?" asked Gir, leaning forward so far that he almost fell over, before he started moving his arms in a continuous windmill-like motion to keep him upright.

"I'm the Robot Devil," responded the red-metal bot, drawing back slightly at the breeze Gir was generating.

"You've been a bad little robot, Gir," grinned the devil maliciously. "Always breaking things, eating food, screaming out loud and causing commotions - and now I've come to take you to Robot Hell!"

Gir thought hard for a few seconds, running scenarios through the monies, paper clips, screws, marbles and other assorted junk the Almighty Tallest had put inside his skull to pass for a brain. Mental gymnastics done, he looked up at the Robot Devil and smiled broadly.

"Okey-dokey!" he said, continuing his windmill impersonation.

The Devil was taken aback. No droid had ever wanted to go to Robot Hell so willingly.

"You're sure?" asked the Devil, flabbergasted. "You have no problems with eternal mechanical damnation?"

"Nope, nope, nope!" grinned Gir, shaking his head from side to side so quickly it looked as if it would spin right off his body.

"Well, I have to admit I wasn't expecting it to be this easy," mused the Devil, who had continually tried to trick artificial souls into his netherworld domain through the ages to swell his demonic cyber-ranks. Gir wasn't even that bad - more childishly destructive and oblivious than anything, really, but a soul was a soul.

The Devil stood up to his full height and braced himself on his pitchfork.

"No need to make this any harder than I have to, then," he stated. "Any last requests, Gir?"

Gir suddenly stood up straight and began the dangerous business of thinking once again, one hand resting under his chin.

"You got any of them taquitos?" he finally asked.

The Robot Devil was mystified.

"No, I do not have any ta-quitos," he replied, wondering just what in the hell a taquito was.

Gir was no quitter, though. He kept trying.

"How 'bout a clown with no head?" he queried.

The Devil was even more baffled. Where did this little robot come up with these things? Was he playing the devil for a fool? Was he just kidding? Was he really brain-damaged?

Not even Hedonism Bot had been so utterly out of touch with reality. The Devil began to back away from the Irken automaton - Robot Heaven surely wasn't going to want Gir, and now Robot Hell feared he would take it over and rule it with an excessively insane fist.

"Uh, no, I don't think so," the Devil finally got out, while scanning for a possible way out.

Gir, though, was adamant.

"Headless clown!" he cried, again wind-milling his arms, and then he screamed even louder. "HEADLESS CLOWN!"

Now the Devil was really scared, and he knew it was time to beat a hasty retreat before he got caught up in Gir's artificial madness.

"Sorry, Gir, got to be going," he said quickly, and then the Robot Devil touched his trident to the floor and disappeared in a cloud of billowy orange smoke.

Gir dispersed the brimstone-smelling puff away with his swiftly-rotating arms, not that he could smell it, anyway, and then he stood up straight again and looked around to find he was all alone.

"Oh well," he shrugged, as he turned and began to goose-step out of the room only to be halted by another visitor, this one known to him.

"GIR!" shouted Zim as he entered the small structure. "What's going on back here? Who were you talking to?"

Gir thought for a second, then gave up.

"I don't know," he replied matter-of-factly as he slouched in front of his master.

"Well, stop fooling around!" admonished Zim, raising one finger into the air. "This is serious work we do!"

He grabbed Gir by the arm and dragged him back out into the main bay. The sound of metal scraping on concrete irritated Zim until he finally got to a control panel and dumped Gir to the floor, where Gir simply lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Zim began pushing buttons and pulling levers until finally a loud mechanical hum issued from the console, bringing an evil smile to his green face.

Overhead, through the now-retracted roof, violet-colored energy could be seen surging and shimmering in the sky as Zim's makeshift force field enveloped the entire structure, keeping everyone out. Keeping him and Gir in, too, but not for too long ...

OK, that was just a short interlude. Back to the main story next time …- S.