This took a hot minute even though it's short because I kept rewriting it and-fun fact-writing isn't the only hobby I have and with the weather being so nice my outdoor hobbies have been vying for my attention again. Either way, Enjoy!

Part 33: Defect

Dib thumbed through the applications sitting before him. He had anticipated a lot of schools sending in acceptances—his father being a major reason, his academics and essays another—but he hadn't anticipated so many that he could hardly see his dining room table under them all. Zim was on the kitchen floor, shuffling through his own piles. He'd already started forming acceptance and rejection piles. Dib, by contrast, hadn't even gotten that far. He rubbed at his temple.

"Zim, I'm getting tired looking at this, I can't even imagine trying to sort these."

"Dib, if you don't, you won't go into the advanced schooling system. As archaic as it is." Zim mumbled. He tossed another into the rejection pile. Dib eyed how it was considerably larger than the acceptance pile.

"Zim, are you really going to ignore that many schools?"

"Zim only wants the best school. Once Zim has determined that, Dib-stink can attend to best school this filthy Earth ball has to offer." Zim explained. Dib snorted.

"Zim, these aren't even all the schools in the country. These are just schools from a few states." Dib explained. Zim shrugged, tossing another folder. Dib jolted. "Wait, did you ACTUALLY apply to these or hack them?"

"Zim applied of course." Zim said, waving one folder around a little before tentatively setting it into the acceptance pile.

"HOW? You actually wrote essays?" Dib questioned. Zim paused in his assessments and gave Dib an unimpressed look.

"Zim merely wrote the appropriately themed essay. A few detailing political reformations, oddly enough. Zim was surprised to see that as a topic option. That wouldn't have been allowed back on Irk."

"Your empire is basically a dictatorship. That's not surprising." Dib retorts. Zim huffs, leaning back in his chair. Dib tossed another into the reject pile. "That being said. You're not like any of the other Irkens I've encountered. Granted, I haven't seen a lot, but still."

"That does not mean Zim is not as much an Irken as they are!" Zim says hurriedly. Dib blinked at him.

"I… didn't say you weren't like them." Dib said. Zim paused. He looked Dib's face over, looking for any sign of deception. After finding none he returned his attention to the table. "Zim?"

Zim ignored him, aimlessly working through the applications. Dib shoved him in the shoulder. Zim swatted his hand away.

"Hey. Look at me. You're sulking." Dib said.

"…Irkens do not sulk…" Zim mumbled. Dib raised an unconvinced eyebrow at him.

"Well, YOU are sulking, Mr. Oh-so-high-and-mighty-Irken."

Zim glared at him; but Dib could tell he wasn't really trying to be malicious. It was the type of glare that only friends could get away with. The thought made Dib smile. The smile, as he'd come to immediately find out, was a mistake. Zim thwacked him in the face with applications, dislodging his glasses onto the table in the process, with a hiss of all things. Dib fumbled to return his glasses to his face, dumbstruck.

"Did you just hiss at me?"

"You were mocking Zim!"

"I wasn't! Ass."

"Zim is not an ass!"

"Then tell me what's been bugging you. Friends talk about that kind of stuff. You can't keep it all bottled up inside. Alien or not, psychology is universal… I think." Dib says Zim stared at him, almost deadpanned. "What?"

"Dib-stink, you confuse Zim." He says.

"So talk to me."

"Zim will see you later, Dib-stink." Zim said, gathering all the applications in his PAK. Before Dib could say more than Zim's name, he was already walking out the front door.

Three weeks. It had been three weeks since Dib had started this and Zim was beginning to crack. It was like the start of their officially friendship all over again. Dib was starting to wear Zim down and Zim knew Dib knew it, too. He'd been bringing it up with slowly increasing frequency. Dib hadn't thought it would take so little time, if he was being honest with himself. He was fully prepared to be waiting for months, if not at least a year. He counted himself lucky that Zim's patience with him had started shifting and he hadn't been thrown out of the car by now.

Zim was tapping his claws away on his computer when Dib felt the whim to ask again. He'd asked just this morning and barely avoided being thrown out of the base—though, he doubted Zim would actually fling him through the stratosphere like he'd threatened.

"Hey, Zim?"

"Hmm."

"What are you always typing?"

Dib didn't know whether he wanted to mentally slap himself or not for not asking the question he'd been planning to. Not that he'd never planned to ask the one he had, either. Zim stopped typing. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the keyboard.

"Dib-stink, that is not what you wanted to ask."

"…you know me too well now." Dib grumbled. Zim smirked.

"Zim is very intelligent. And Zim also knows what you wanted to ask. Fine, Zim will explain it." Zim said. He kicked himself away from the monitor, swinging his chair over to Dib. "Dib-stink, has Zim mentioned the Control Brains?"

"Ummmmm…. Maybe?"

"…Zim will explain. On Irk, Irkens follow the command of the Control Brains; even above the orders of the Tallest." Zim explained. Dib's eyes widened, but Zim smacked his hand over Dib's mouth before he could properly interrupt. "Those Control Brains deemed Zim defective."

Dib smacked Zim's hand away. "WHAT?"

Zim face fell and he leaned back into his chair in a slouch. "Zim's PAK is Defective. It has… many errors. Or, that's what Zim believed."

"What do you mean?"

"Zim has started reading up on some of your human philosophy and politics—Dib-stink's explanations got Zim curious." Zim began. Dib was nodding along. "I have come to the conclusion that the Control Brains were mistaken. I'm not Defective—I simply think more freely."

"Why's that something that would upset you? Isn't not being a defect a good thing?"

"No. Because Zim was caste out for being a threat." Zim said sourly. "A "Defective" Irken is reported on immediately. Zim was reported on immediately. Well… not IMMEDIATELY… but soon enough."

Dib could tell he wasn't being completely honest. Putting aside that Zim was using first person pronouns Dib pushed his interest forward. "…And?"

"…I'll not be included in the Collective. I'm is certain. After the Existence Evaluation; there is no other outcome. I should be thankful for being sent to Foodcourtia as exile instead of… the alternative." Zim explained.

He picked at the faux leather of his chair. Dib's had started to turn slowly and he'd let it move on its own as Zim spoke. When he had made almost a full turn around with nothing else from Zim he chose that as the opportune time to speak.

"So… they would have killed you." Dib surmised. Zim nodded. "Is that really better? I mean… I'd have never met you…"

Zim chuckled. "True. Zim is grateful for that."

Dib smiled. He let his chair keep turning, extending his foot to start Zim's up as he passed. He heard Zim snicker and his smile grew wider.

"Want to go play some games?" Dib asked. Zim hummed before getting out of his chair and starting to drag Dib's along the lab floor.

"Yes, Zim would."