Whoo, this one took a while to write, sorry about that! The first few weeks of Summer really were full for me, but I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!
Dib knocked on Zim's door. It was after school hours, and Zim hadn't come to classes the entire day. Dib rocked on his feet, waiting patiently for a good few minutes before knocking again. This had been going on for an hour now. He finally leaned forward, letting his head hit the door and supported his weight.
"Ziiiiiiim," he groaned. He kicked the door. "Come oooon."
The door suddenly flung open and Dib toppled inside. "Gah!"
"What do you want?" the computer asked. Dib rubbed his face, readjusting his glasses. He dropped his backpack onto the couch.
"Where's Zim?"
"Out."
"All day?"
"Yep."
Dib furrowed his brow at the clipped answers. He strolled into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, expecting at least some food to keep up the act but found only Irken sweets. He debated taking one and shut the door. He wasn't ready to eat one again just yet.
"Do you know when he'll be back?" Dib asked. He sat himself down on the couch, kicking his legs.
"No. Why?"
"Because I'm bored and wanted to hang out," Dib said. He had noticed before he and Dib were friends that the computer of Zim's base was an AI pertaining its own thoughts. He just wished it had a less aggravating personality. He grabbed his ipod and zoned out.
He snapped back into reality when Zim shook his shoulder. "Dib-stink? Dib."
"What? Oh," Dib removed the headphones, the music playing softly from them. "Hey, sorry, I didn't hear you."
"What are you listening to? One of those 'pods' you had mentioned?" Zim asks, examining the earbuds.
"First off, it's 'podcast'. Secondly, no. It's music," Dib explains. He started to roll up the earbuds, but paused. "Do you want to listen?"
Zim gave him a skeptical look. "Do those contraptions work on antennae?"
Dib blinked and laughed at himself. "Oh, that should have been obvious to me. Here, I have songs on my phone."
Dib scrolled through the playlists, looking for the right introductory song. Zim sat down next to him, waiting patiently. Dib caught him dozing out of the corner of his eye when he finally found the instrumental playlist he was looking for.
"Here," he said, pulling Zim back from his stupor.
He held the phone between them, music playing softly from the speakers. Dib watched Zim's antennae flick at the sounds. They began to keep time with the song's base, moving only just slightly to the beats. Zim sighed, leaning back.
"This is also relaxing," he says. Dib smiles.
"I've got different genres. Types of music. Here's some rock," Dib says, clicking away at his phone. Zim jumped off the couch yelling at the sudden change. Dib started laughing, unable to control himself when Zim turned to him, glaring. "What? Give you a heart attack?"
"THAT," Zim shouted, pointing to the offending device, "is not music!"
"Yes, it is. It's Rock. Hard rock, to be precise. The last type was 'Chill' music. I don't know if it has an actual genre or not, but that's what I see it get called," Dib said, surfing through the music a third time. Zim cautiously sat beside him again.
"And something so different is considered the same?" he asked.
"Yeah. There's dozens of genres. They change with the culture, too. Here's some music I pulled from a band in India."
Zim listened to the music, antennae flicking the entire song. When it ended he pulled a device from his PAK. "Zim likes that sound. It's being added to the PAK."
Dib glanced at the screen, seeing the internet displayed, and did a double take. "Wait, you have access? Isn't that dangerous?"
"Not at all, Zim is 'piggy-backing' off the humans next to his base, as you call it," he explains. Dib saw a download screen pop up and smirked.
"Getting every single song?"
"Of course."
"Zim, there's enough music out there to keep you listening for the rest of your life. And yes, I am serious when I say that. Humans have had music since we began evolving," Dib says, catching Zim's doubtful look. The alien huffed at him, pulling his legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged.
"Show Zim other 'bands'."
Dib spent the betterment of several hours introducing Zim to every genre he knew.
"This is called 'punk rock'."
"How many rock genres are there?"
"You'd be surprised. This is pop… alternative… trance… indie… blues… classical… country… folk… hip-hop… jazz… r&b-"
"Dib-stink, why is there so many? How do humans keep up with this many kinds?" Zim asks, having enough tabs and downloads open to crash Dib's phone at that point. Dib was envious.
"We don't usually look up a band for everyone and get every song they've done. Some people only listen to one, or a few. I like to have as many options as possible. I'm surprised you like so many."
"They are all new to Zim."
"Irkens don't have music, either?"
"We do," Zim says, pausing. "It is not like this. Well, it is like some of this, but very standardized. Most Irken media is."
"Explains the addiction," Dib teases.
"All Zim has dealt with on a regular basis is Gir's supposed 'singing'," Zim groans. Dib chuckled, skipping through songs to find a genre he hadn't introduced yet. He contemplated playing music from alien movies, just to mess with the Irken. Maybe later.
"Well, that is pretty horrible to deal with on a regular basis," Dib says. He set his phone down. "I think that's everything I have. There's more online."
"There's more?!" Zim asks incredulously.
"Of-course there is. There's billions of humans and lifetimes of media we've made. It's impossible for me to see it all. You might catch up eventually. Or not, we don't really stop."
"Why is that?" Zim asks.
"Why's what?"
"You do not stop creating? Does it get exhausting?" Zim asks.
"Mmm… sometimes. But it's fun and relaxing… and feels good. We get to use our imaginations," Dib explains. He heard Zim hum. When he glanced over Zim's antennae were dancing. They halted and Zim seemed to have a realization.
"Like when I created new weapons."
"Yeah, that's one way to do it," Dib affirmed. "Most people just do it in art fields. Or technical art fields like with car designs and architecture. Or energy, I guess. There's some interesting solar energy tech out there I should show you, you could power your whole base."
"Zim would enjoy not relying on his neighbors to pay their bills," Zim says. "That had been an issue before."
"I'll show you later," Dib says. Zim hums, setting down his device.
"Zim likes to tinker," he began. "Is that a use of imagination?"
"Yes."
"It is not always a good one," Zim says. Dib thought for a moment it had been a question until he caught the tone of Zim's voice. Dib looked at him. Zim was staring at the wall. Dib reached a hand up and Zim stood, walking to the TV. "But, that is not something to worry about. Zim would rather play games."
Dib watched him set up the console, trying to decide. "Zim-"
"Zim will explain perhaps at a later time, Dib-stink," Zim says. Dib didn't want to let the matter drop. But Zim wasn't going to talk. He put his phone away, taking the controller without protest. He'd say something when he was ready. Dib just hoped it was before he was in his eighties.