I wasn't sure how to approach this chapter, as I've been planning it for quite some time now. You'd think that means I'd know what I want to say for it; but jus the opposite! I actually have a second part planned out and partially written already (fun fact, I do not write these all in one chronological go; I do the same for my personal stories as well, lol) and so far I'm actually liking it. So enjoy!

EDIT: I updated some inconsistencies in this chapter; and have done so with other chapters as well. Thanks to Cyan Quartz for mentioning it; because I had actually kept pretty horrible notes for this in the start and ended up contradicting myself! So, they're mostly cosmetic fixes.

PART 34: Souls Part 1

Dib listened to Zim tack away at the keyboard in his lab. He'd noticed over the last several months that Zim had some odd quirks. One was recording every new action he'd observed of humans. Dib smiled. He was at least glad he hadn't been the only one recording their conversations. Though he admitted it was a disadvantage he didn't have a computer constantly recording everything for him that had no battery life. Damn, PAKS seemed better and better each time Dib thought about them.

Dib looked over at one of Zim's newest biological experiments. Another odd quirk Dib had taken time to notice before; but hadn't thought of much in the scheme of things. Zim had the technology to swap brains and merge species and didn't seem to think of it as much more than a hobby of experiments. Dib wasn't comfortable looking at the array of experiments that were scattered throughout Zim's labs. But that also meant that he had taken notice of all the experiments that had disappeared since he'd shown obvious dislike of them.

Dib looked over to see the Irken characters appearing rapidly on the screen. The sound of the keyboard had always been relaxing to him. He had some questions he was confident Zim didn't want to think about, either. But Dib was rarely subtle.

"Zim?"

"Hm?"

"What are you typing?"

"Haven't you already asked this?"

"Last month. What are you typing now?"

"What humans call a 'journal', we Irkens refer to it as a 'record'. It serves the same purpose. They aren't connected to our PAK or sent to the Tallest; but used for our own purposes. If we feel they have any spare vital information—which is unlikely due to the efficiency of our PAKs—we gift them to the Control Brains."

"I see. …I thought you didn't like them anymore?"

"Zim has given it some thought; and decided that it may help other Irkens if they could experience Zim's… revelations. Before Zim's PAK is disconnected."

"Oh."

Dib was silent, slowly swinging his foot back and forth. Zim's writing eventually stopped and he regarded Dib curiously. "That is not what you truly wanted to ask," Zim said. Dib pursed his lips.

"Okay, I'll say it. Zim, do Irkens have souls?"

Zim raised one antennae at him. Dib hoped it meant confusion because he really didn't mean to offend the alien. Zim looked at the screen he was working on, then back at Dib, then pushed away from the monitor. He stood up, stretching, and moving to another section of the room. Dib watched him nervously, unsure what to do, and following on the seat he was in. It was difficult steering the wheeled chair, but he had managed it.

Zim stopped at a tube with an octopus inside. "Zim is curious. Do you believe this creature has a soul?"

Dib stared at the dead sea creature. "Most people would. I told you, Science is my belief system."

"Didn't you call that 'agnostic'?" Zim corrected. Dib blinked at him. "Zim looked up some terminology after that particular conversation when he returned home; and Zim recalls that is what Dib called it."

"I'm impressed, but no, I was wrong. Agnostics believe that it's impossible for humans to know anything about how the universe was created or if divine beings exist. I'm still more of an atheist because I believe the Big Bang happened, technically. Or, that's how I see it. I mean, I can't just ignore a lot of what's out there. Aliens, ghosts, Bigfoot… those things."

"Ah. Zim is… unsure how to answer your question."

"Do you know what a soul is?" Dib asked, resting his feet on the table. Zim regarded them and decided to push them off was too much trouble.

"Perhaps Irkens use a different word. Describe it," Zim orders, leaning against the tube. Dib sighed, trying to think. A memory hit him.

"Okay, well, most people believe that your soul is your being. It's what gets to move on after death. They're considered immortal. So, when you die your body stays behind but your soul goes to the next stage," Dib explains. "Remember when I tried to get Mortos to steal your soul? That's what I was after. Presumably, you'd have died. I might not believe in souls, but a demon was appearing, and I figured I'd give it a shot."

"Ah. Zim hardly remembers that. Though, Zim does remember you tackling Zim that day. As for souls; Irkens do not believe in them," Zim said bluntly.

"Wh- but that doesn't make sense!" Dib shouted. Zim's antennae laid flat for a moment and Dib sat up. "Sorry. But; you said you have a belief system, you have a God, so why don't you have souls? I was expecting a yes."

"Then Dib-stink made a mistake. Why ask if you were sure of the answer?" Zim says, as if it were obvious. Dib groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

"Zim, how am I supposed to know that? I said I was expecting a certain answer, not that I knew if it was going to be right." Dib explained. Zim looked perturbed and held his chin in thought.

"Irkens don't believe in souls, we believe in consciousness. Our consciousness is combined will all Irken consciousness when we pass," Zim says. Dib watches him return to his computer and pushes off the desk. His chair slid across the room, his feet dragging on the floor and slowing him down.

"That could be argued as the same thing," Dib says when he stops next to the Irken.

"Zim supposes so. Why were you curious?"

"Um…" Dib paused, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I. I don't know. I just had a thought recently that was kind of… dark?"

"…And?" Zim asks, beginning to get impatient.

"How long do Irkens live?"

Zim had to stop in his writing. He leaned back in his seat and looked at Dib. "Humans rarely live farther than 100 years, yes? Zim is currently over 200 Earth years old."

Dib stared at him. So long that Zim thought for a moment he had broken the human. Zim reached up to get Dib's attention when Dib bolted from the chair. "WHAT?!"

Zim fell back off his own chair, landing squarely on the floor. "GAH!"

Dib was above him in less than a second. "You're that old?! You're a grandpa!"

"ZIM IS NO SUCH THING!"

"How long do Irkens live?" Dib asks again. Zim grumbles, pushing Dib away to sit up. He sweeps his leg to kick Dib; but the boy dances out of the way.

"We can live for a surplus of Earth centuries. One year on Irk is the equivalent of ten here. Zim is still fairly young."

"That's insane! You're going to outlive me!" Dib yells, running his hands through his hair.

Zim watched him start to pace the room, not comprehending why that would distress the human so much. He was starting to concern Zim. But, on the other hand, it gave Zim time to think about the conversation and Dib's reactions to it. He didn't understand or know what this "next place" was that Dib referred to. He didn't know why Dib was concerned if he didn't believe in it, anyway. The boy was making less sense than usual.

"What's the issue of that?" he asks, climbing himself back into his seat. He kicked Dib's chair to him, but Dib just shoved it away as he paced. Clearly, he wasn't wanting to sit down just yet. Zim gave a 'tsk', the sound rolling longer than how Dib would have given it; and swung his way back to the monitor.

"What's the issue he says," Dib mumbles. "What's the issue? Most people believe in souls because it means there's something after death. They're not afraid of it."

"Dib doesn't believe in souls. Zim fails to see the issue of Zim believing the same. Unless a consciousness is the soul."

Dib blinks at him. He hums, absentmindedly taking his seat back and slipping into it. Zim reaches out a foot once Dib scoots close enough and pulls him the rest of the way. Dib looks up at the ceiling.
"That's a fair point. I mean I don't think Mortos would have accepted the deal if you DIDN'T have one. Not that it matters; I guess. You'll be living on with the rest of the Irken consciousness in PAKs."

Zim is silent, refusing to look at Dib. Dib glanced over when Zim hadn't responded. "You'll be joining them all, at some point, right?" he asks tentatively. Zim spins in his chair back to the monitor.

"Zim?"

"Zim is tired of this conversation."

"Zim is trying to get out of it, you mean." Dib accuses. He pokes Zim roughly in the side of the head, earning a hiss and a swat from the alien. Dib was unperturbed.

"What? Is that what The Collective is?" Dib asked. Zim's glower was enough of a yes for him. Dib let his hand drop with a meek 'oh'. He swung back and forth in his chair, swiveling it in place. "I-I'm sorry. I hadn't made the connection. I don't know why."

"Zim doesn't care."

"Zim does, too."

"Do not mock Zim." Zim demanded.

"Do not shut me out about this." Dib demanded back. Zim's hiss was partially a growl, and a noise Dib decided right then and there that he never wanted to hear it again. But after this. "Talk."

Zim tried to turn away from him and Dib forced his chair back. The alien was growing pissed with him—and Dib was well aware of it—and that hadn't happened in months. Zim wasn't used to the feeling anymore. He hated it.

"Zim is warning you—"

"Oh, stop. Just say what's on your mind." Dib coaxes. Zim's shoulders prickled. Dib, wisely, brought his hand back. "Please?"

Zim only glared at him. Dib sighed, pinching at his brow for a moment.

"Ok, then, I'll start. I'm afraid that you'll outlive me." Dib said. Zim's demeanor seemed to calm down. Even if it was purely because he was confused, Dib would take it. "Actually, I'm not afraid of it. I'm having trouble accepting it. Because I know you're going to outlive me. I can feel it."

"…Why would you care about that?" Zim asked.

"Because when I die, you'll be alone again." Dib said, meddling with his fingers. Zim sighed beside him. He also wasn't used to this unusual tenseness in the air. "And if you're alone… I just don't want to leave you alone, you know?"

"Dib-stink, Zim is grateful for the… sentiment…" Zim said awkwardly. He could tell Dib was going to start being passionate about this if he didn't respond properly. And he wasn't in the state to deal with that at the moment. "And Zim is not looking forward to it. But, Zim will also likely leave Earth afterwards."

"Heh. I figured that might have been something you would do. How long do Irkens even live?" Dib asked suddenly. "Like… do you even know? Do they die from other reasons first, usually?" Dib asks.

"Dib-stink, plenty of Irkens can die of old age." Zim says. Dib shook his head.

"No, I mean, really. How long does your species live for?" Dib asks. Zim leaned back in his chair with a huff. Dib gave him a moment.

"Zim… isn't sure. At least over hundred Earth years—as Zim is aware of Irkens who are far older than Zim. But past that, Zim isn't sure. PAKs don't record how old an Irken was at time of death." Zim says. Dib deflated.

"Oh…"

"Dib-stink."

"…Yeah?"

"Zim will be fine." Zim says. Dib stared at him. It took a few moments, but he seemed to accept Zim's declaration because he started to idly spin his chair again.

"Ok."

Zim frowned. He didn't believe him. He tossed that acceptance he'd been building up right out the metaphorical window. He pulled Dib's chair right up next to his until they clacked together. Dib looked up at him sheepishly. Zim grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him into a hug. Dib thought perhaps he was high for a second; almost up until Zim let him go.

"Zim will be fine."

"…" Dib smiled. "Alright."

Now Zim believed him.