Dib has been strange lately, if the scratches on his duffle bags and the discolouration of the whites of his eyes were anything to go by. Jaundice, Gaz's console told her when she did a quick search. Perhaps one of the cocktail 'Poop colas' she's been finding in dad's lab finally caused some problems. Excess bilirubin. Or whatever. It can be a sign of something serious, such as liver disease, so you need to get urgent medical help, said the console, before she switched tabs back to the annihilation of the flaming piggy bosses.

The new series of Pig Blaster have been disappointing, honestly, and nothing like its predecessors. What used to be challenging levels based on skills and combos delved into putting out more and more stages, and while it is inherently satisfying to see the their pink bodies burn, squeak, and drop below screen, there was less of the simple joys of overcoming a challenge. At this point, her sitting on the couch with her console was a numbing way of spending the evening. Just her and a steadily increasing kill count.

It soon got tiring, sitting the same way and putting the same pressures on that part of her neck and butt, so she switched to the Arc Method, which only worked on the living room couch because of how amazingly huge it was, involving her draping her arms over the arms of the sofa and relaxing her shoulders and chin until they stretched over the soft plushy curve. She lowered her eyes to compare the amount of piggies defeated in this level and the previous one, then pressed 'continue' to start the next stage.

She grimaced as loud disturbances—big boots ("Perfect for paranormal hunting!")—came stomping down the stairs. "Gaz! Gaz!" came the incessant noise maker. Her focus wavered. One of her shots landed as only a fine instead of a fatal. Which wasn't fine at all. She paused her game.

Dib had his grumpy hands on the couch, bending down to meet her gaze. "Go with me to pick something up. Help me pilot." He waited unblinkingly for a response, and when he didn't get one, he added, "Please?"

Please or no please, Gaz was busy pretending to play her paused video game, clicking the menu button over and over again as if it summoned destruction. It wasn't about the practicality of things. It was about the message. She ignored him. It didn't stop him, though.

"We can get you something on the way. Pizza? At Bloaty's," he offered, "Anything you'd like actually, as long as I can afford it and it's close enough to the solar system."

Gaz was perfectly fine with keeping up with her silence out of pure spite, but the universe favoured her brother (in every aspect but one) and a pop-up appeared on her menu. It was gold and shiny. With lots of epic green flames and red rocket blasters. And virtual coins.

"Um, Gaz? Your eyes…"

She couldn't stop looking at the advertisement. It was very effective. Her every cell screamed to get one of those. The "more more more" of marketing campaigns latched on to her heart, fish line and sinker. This one was the one, the perfect complement to her collection. It was so much newer, so much different than the rest. She needed it. "Deluxe. Buy me a new Pig Blaster Deluxe."

"…the video games?"

She nodded. Possibly a bit too fast.

"They're at—"

"The mall. Yes," She leap off the couch, "Drive me there. It won't be too long." Dib stood up from his crouch. Within a few seconds Gaz's black coat was on neat and tidy and she was waiting for him by the door. She had to wait for him. The nerve of this guy. "Hurry up already!"

Dib blinked, before splitting into a grin. "Awesome!"

The vehicle that Gaz and her brother hurried into was not a car. It had wheels. It can move(even without those wheels). And it was what her brother used to drive her to Skool and him to the lab everyday of the work-week and sometimes weekends. But no, her brother did not have a car. Back when the two still talked to each other, her dad once asked Dib during their annual family dinner about what kind of car he would've liked for his coming-of-legal-driving-age-event, an electrical one or one of those newer models that drove on water? They were eating at Bloaty's, the best pizzarieta in town, and Dib had stopped drinking his orange soda mid-sip, instead he set the drink back, glass hitting table. "Dad," he had said, "I have a space ship."

Gaz took a look at the cosmetically modified spaceship she sat in. It was a lot better than the old one, the one that Dib used to tinker with in his free time but could never get to fly. That's why it crashed, dumbass. She was pretty sure the newer—and probably stolen, didn't it used to belong to some other guy?—and functional ship used to be in a bright ugly pink. He'd taken it for a test drive during her first year of Hi Skool, and when he came back, he wouldn't shut up about it. Space and stars and galaxies, and then he'd gotten all sad before he shook it off and then came back later in the evening with an armful of blue spray paints. She'd have gone with black, but you know, this was his ship.

"Seat belts," Dib reminded.

Completely unnecessary. She already had it buckled.

As he started up the Voot's engine, Gaz scrutinized her brother through the rear-view mirror. (What kind of spaceship had a rear-view mirror? It must've been hand-installed, like the wheels that hung off the "car's" sides, inconspicuous and unmoving.) Dib was typing onto the interface, pushing buttons and turning knobs. All pale in the face and yellow in the eyes. He was smiling, yet veins bulged out, not too noticiably if you weren't looking for it, sprawling out from under that brown fedora he wore. Leave it to her brother to start some hat-fetish. He couldn't seem to get enough of those lately.

The ship hovered slowly above the road, crawling through the streets like the rest of the vehicles that actually needed wheels.

In the rear-view mirror, Dib met her gaze, the smile reaching his eyes for once. "Whatcha looking at?"

"Oh," Gaz drawled, because it was, so evident, he ought to have noticed it. "Just the casual health checkup, nothing unusual. And you're failing miserably. Are you getting any sun under there Dib?" Down under the comically wide brim of the ridiculous hat?

With his hands on the controls, Dib looked back out to the streets. At the cars and the intersection lights. "Me? Oh yea, I'm fine. Been drinking my vitamin juices and all that."

"What about your eyes?" She tried, "I think you should get checked up for jaundice."

Dib was looking at her in the mirror again. Well, not at her. At himself. Those hideous yellow eyes. "Are they really that bad?" He frowned.

"Yes."

Dib hummed, attention away and back outside the windshield, not saying a word more.

From some stretch of time during her Hi Skool years, tall purple steel and reflective chrome film somehow became the standard of architecture in downtown metropolis. The mall was no different, its multilevelled building only differentiated giant neon signs and wide digital screens that were nailed near the top, telling everyone that there was a new oxygen filtration system and that a skin renewal gel was on sale by twenty percent. While no one was looking, Dib parked on the roof. Hands still griping onto her seat, not trembling from the sudden acceleration, Gaz glared at him. "What? It's easier this way. Faster access, and we won't need to go through the three food courts and the seven other levels of household supplies."

The path to actually getting the newest, bestest, most amazing Pig Blaster Deluxe was relatively simple. They went in, the duo wearing black coats respectively(and a ridiculous hat), took a few elevators, then an escalator, got to Pig Blaster Land, basically heaven for kids like her, ogled at the rest of the merchandise that lined the aisles, before finally setting foot before the grand prize, in its shiny packaging and epic glory.

The Pig Blaster Deluxe. The newest of the brand. So much better than the one she had now. She had it in her hands, jittering, ready to peel away the plastic and stuff in in her console. Oh, what a good day. It was a Wednesday. Possibly the best Wednesday this year. She looked around excitedly, at the shelf of recommended bonuses around. Maybe, if he'd also let her get all the accessories

Dib was beside her, a little behind, frowning at the price tag. "Oh. I didn't realize it was gonna be so…." He dug in the pockets of his trench coat, "I had a lot more…before…I, spent it all on…Hey, don't look at me like that! You have no idea how expensive equipment can be!"

Gaz rolled her eyes. She forgot how irresponsible her brother can be. Couldn't even keep up a decent attendance rate before he dropped out, she remembered her father berating. "Whatever. I'll just use the Platinum card." Good thing she brought it with her.

"But," Dib bit his lip, "That's dad's money."

Gaz gave him a look. "So? He has lots of it."

Dib's frown deepened. "I'm buying it for you. Me. Your brother. Not him." He said as he reached up into the back of his hat, and pulled out some trinkets, "Hmm, do you prefer red or purple?"

Dumb question. "Purple."

"Okay," Dib nodded, putting something back behind his hat, "We'll keep the purple one then."

Of course he has pockets in his hat. Only her idiot brother would keep pockets in his hat.

They maneuvered to the line-up, and eventually when it was their time with the cashier, Gaz let her new glorious video game ride up the conveyor belt, before it flopped onto its plastic face by the employee's side.

The employee, dressed in a cheerful yellow uniform tee and cap, gazed at the plastic shell before picking it up. She aimed the scanner at it, red light flashing with a single beep. "Your total is 120 monies," she read the computer display, not needing to look at the costumers, "Cash or credit?"

"I have 50 monies—" he put some coin and bills on the counter.

A dismissive wave. "Next!"

"—AND, a Vortian power pill! Would you look at that?" Dib looked through a red translucent marble about the size of a thumb, "These small things can supply your apartment? House? Condo? Whatever lodging with enough electricity for the next hundred years or so. Depending on how you use it. Trust me, way more expensive than your salary. Can't even get a supply on Earth." Oh, Gaz watched, This was not happening. Was it?

Dib pressed the red marble on the counter with a smile, and reached for the Pig Blaster Deluxe-

-only to have the employee reach for it as well, returning a cranked smile. Her poor Deluxe, gripped by grabby hands, pulled on both sides. Gaz hoped the chip wouldn't break. She also wished she'd brought popcorn. Or pizza.

She wondered if the rest of the customers waiting in the line wished so as well. They did look like they've rarely seen something like this before, standing there stunned with their carts and crates.

"Sir," the lady managed to get out between tight lips, "This register only accepts cash or credit."

"Take the pearl."

"Only cash or credit."

"The pearl. Take it or lea—"

An elderly stepped forward, "Um, young man? The cash register clearly only-"

Mechanical arms shot out of the back of Dib's hat, from under that tiny void whipped out a weapon, magenta, cartoonish, but unmistakably a gun. "I SAID," it pointed at the lady's cap, burning a brown dent into the yellow bill. She let go, which sent Dib stumbling backwards a few steps, clutching the Pig Blaster Deluxe into his chest. The blaster gun retracted swiftly, then gone.

"Jeez," glared the employee, before she picked up the landline and started to dial what was probably the security guard, if Dib was lucky, or perhaps even better, the police. Mirth bubbled in Gaz's chest in like fizzy poop soda. It was not everyday you got to experience the simple joys of seeing your sibling in trouble. He'll probably get arrested, if they catch up.

Dib seemed to realize that as well, glancing to and fro erratically and yet still remaining at the counter. "Um," he raised an instructing finger, "About the pearl. I actually wasn't lying, please take good care of it." The employee watched him impassively while whispering something to a speaker, but Dib didn't seem to mind. "Though yes, you technically can't exchange the pearl itself for money here, but you can always sell the contained energy you know? Start a business when you have time, you can be an energy company without any generators. Or even, if you're feeling particularly generous, send it away to a remote and less well-off place in desperate need of electricity, and it'll do the entire village some good. Of course, that's entirely up to you, since I'm en—"

"O—kay I think we're done here," said Gaz as she grabbed her brother's arm with a violent jerk, removing him from his own embarrassment.

"Hey!" protested Dib.

Normally, Gaz would love to stay and watch, but time has stalled enough for the security bots to arrive, rolling towards the front of the store with their claws-a-grabbing, and however unfortunate it was, Dib was her ride home. Her brother quieted down when he saw the decreasing distance between himself and the pursuing bots. "Do not resist! Do not resist!"

Gaz kicked him in the boots. "Come on!" She wasn't going to drag his heavy lump of a body the entire way back! She'd rather take the bus!

They took off in a sprint. Pushed a loving couple aside to get on to the closest open elevator, which chimed with a ding when they reached the upper floors and rushed off. Escalators proved to be a gathering-spot for drones. Gaz dodged as one of the flying four-winged bugs swung at her head with a buzzing taser, before it was shot down by Dib's hat blaster and crashed into a ceiling. "Here," Dib tossed her a small blaster of her own. Gaz glared. Should've done that a while ago.

She missed a few shots before getting used to it, which was surprisingly fast, as it should be. Laser guns didn't have recoil when she knocked tasers off of a drone's thin little legs, nor did they shake when she melted off a drone's face, exposing the fried chips and sparking wires.

The mall's broadcast sounded. "Customers beware, customers beware. There are currently two shoplifters battling our top-notch security drones on the C33 escalators. There are currently—" A drone came at Gaz's head while it struggled to stay in flight with one wing, and was dealt a whack by the back of Gaz's gun. The number of drones dropped significantly, being able to be handed by Dib alone. She looked towards the end of the escalator, at the top-most of floors. There, a mob of security bots gathered, extending their awaiting claws. "—ry thing is under control. Everything is under control. We ask that the customers currently using the C section escalators please be cautious about crashing drones. We ask that the-"

The thin, tall escalator slowly but surely brought the two up, closer and closer to the security bots at the end. There, they would be captured, their efforts wasted and stuck in jail for the next couple of hours. Gaz searched for somewhere else to go. Hopping off the side of the railings wasn't an option, as the height meant somewhere between certain death and mangled limbs. She did not fancy falling on one of the bottom moving elevators, either. Deep breaths, she drew back to all her experiences, looking for something to use. There must be something—a trick, a secret, a fatal point—there always was, every final boss, every inarguable person, and every difficult paper had them. Somewhere structural integrity was the weakest, the buildings? Some kind of secret weapon she had yet to think of? Some kind of knowledge, information, facts about the enemy. And that it was, when she opened her eyes, because oh, did she know where the batteries were placed at.

They don't teach you that in school, but it was just common sense after spending time in the office, she supposed.

Multiple bullets fired at the grappling bots with impeccable aim, melting off a hole in a bot's torso, deepening with every bullet. It erupted into an explosion with one final shot, lights and flames, taking out a few bots' heads around it. They crumbled, parts rolling down while the escalator rolled them back up, sending sparks down the travelling stairs. She just had a few more of them to go.

Behind her, amidst the sound of crashing drones, was a cheer. "Take that! You dumb mechanical Earthen-ware! Behold the wrath of Gaz."

Another few aims and a second explosion boomed, clearing out half the sparking bots. The remaining few persisted. Their camera eyes widened and focused, locking in at her.

Gaz aimed again, only to fire one shot before the blaster gave a few meek resigning beeps. The magenta lights coming out of the barrel of the blaster flickered like a wavering candle flame, then dimming to a dead purple. Gaz stared. She looked at the impending bots. She looked at hulk of a toy gun in her hands. "Arghhhh!" She screamed, "I'm out of juice!"

"What?" Screamed Dib. The drones were loud and buzzing, sounds drowning out.

"Blaster! Dead!" She waved it around.

The message registered in Dib's eyes. He shot at the still remaining bots at the end of the escalator, the few that were now too close for comfort. It was like they could almost get her now, had they lunged forwards a step. Dib shot at their eyes, breaking the glass like a pathetic noob who didn't know where a boss's weak spots were. "No!" Gaz gestured to her liver, "You need to shoot here!"

He didn't, but instead looked at her confusedly. She wanted to slap some sense into him, but they were within an arm's reach.

They needed to make a run for it. There was still an opening. Not too big, but it was there. She grabbed Dib's arm and charged forwards, only to have some thing grab at her back—

—And lifted her 10 feet into the air, blood rushing into her feet. Her head spun around to see Dib, and several long, pointed metal legs sprawling out from under his hat like a mechanical spider. Dib yelled something, but all she heard was the sound of dying drones. They stepped over the railings and with a little jump, grabbed onto the railings of the topmost floor, metal legs clinking against reenforced glass. An upward hurl, before the legs retracted quickly before she was dropped onto the tiles, barely landing on her feet.

Dib looked like he wanted to say something, but she didn't care—the bots swirled around and gave chase, with most of their cameras gone but heat sensors fully operating. She made a gesture for him to follow, before dashing towards the maintenance room, where the doors had an easily-picked lock and the ladders led to the outside, to the roof.

"Gaz! Gaz!" Dib yelled from behind her, running on his own two legs now, "I just wanted to say that, that was a totally normal human contraption. You know? I'm very smart and inventive and stuff. It's totally plausible."

Gaz rolled her eyes.

With no further hiccups, they were back into the sweet embrace of the Voot's cushioned seats and humble atmosphere. Behind the transparent lavender dome of a window was safety. The blaster lolled freely ontop one of her legs as she slumped back, heaving. Her arms were limp by her side and her legs felt like tubes of jelly that hung off the seat. Gym class was never her forte. But that was fun. They could do that again. Maybe another time though. How was Dib?

Dib wasn't nearly as tired, it seemed, already staring up the engine and slowly hovering the ship. Pushing buttons and twisting knobs, he looked as composed as one could with yellow eyes and ridiculous hats.

In between breaths, Gaz muttered out a question. "You do this a lot, don't you. This running and shooting?"

Dib nodded, pushing a lever which activated something. It shook the ship, rumbling like it had never done before, "Mostly in my free time though. You'll get used t—"

"Okay okay," Gaz shutted him up. The vehicle was gaining speed slowly at first, then faster and faster, gradually taking on an exponential acceleration along Earth's atmosphere. Gaz glued her face to her side of the window. Down on the surface of the Earth, the purple steel and grey concretes disappeared in a wink, replaced by the white clouds and reddish waters. Gaz watched as the globe was left behind, floating further and further away. She saw the moon, basking the the sun's light, half-light half-dark. And then briefly Mars, the red dandy thing with an ice hat. Then rest of the solar system flashed by in blurs, before the only recognizable thing about them was a gathering of coloured dots floating around that glowing star, before they shrank too infinitesimal to see. Gaz realized they weren't in their solar system anymore. "Where are we going?" It seemed imperative to ask.

"Well," Dib shifted in his seat, "We did get you your video game."

Oh, oh right. "So what is it that you need my help with again?" She didn't keep those things in mind too much.

"I need to go pick up a parcel from another planet. That's pretty much it, I think."

"Cool."

She took a moment to look at the flecks of stars and clusters of galaxies outside. It wasn't anything she hadn't seen before, from inside a telescope. She knew all their names and major stars' orbital systems. The things that they'd teach you in courses.

"Wait, so then why am I here?"

"It… It is possible, although hopefully that won't be the case, that I might run into some problems. Both parties usually bring people to this, you know?"

"Smuggling?" said Gaz. She wouldn't be surprised.

"Um, more like a trade," Dib locked in the steering knobs, putting the Voot on auto-pilot. He turned to Gaz, "Like Kijiji, but in space. You have something listed that you would like to sell, and I want it. We negotiate a price through a private code and radio frequency, then pick a time and place to convene. Usually, I give you monies, but it doesn't have to be only fiat. I can pay in a previously agreed-on item, which can work out great if something common on my planet is scarce on yours."

"Can we make it back before eight? I need to play for my team online."

Dib coughed, then straightened. "It's gonna take three days."

"What."

"That's short! For space travel."

"I have school on Monday! And you have…. Whatever it is that you do on Mondays."

"Ahem, my job has flexible hours—"

"'Cause your boss doesn't even want to manage you!" said Gaz, because she was pissed, for meta's sake, "He keeps complaining to me about how you go goofing off somewhere for days at a time and just not show up. What? I can't do that!"

Dib clapped his hands together, a bit forcefully. "In all good consciousness, no need to worry about the attendance rate of your educational endeavours, Gaz-sister. For I," he grinned, "In my ingenious thinking and methodical planning, has created a new holiday that would be effective this week. The National Video Games Day! Oh, did President Man fall easily, so easily to the persuasions of Zi—ahem—I mean Dib, the best guy."

Gaz blinked.

"I mean, it's unfortunate that you'll have to miss the very first Video Games day. But you can celebrate it with your online friends every other year?"

"Uh huh?" Gaz nodded in questionable agreement. She picked up her consol and inserted her new Big Blaster Deluxe. The screen lit up and started to read the new game chip. Gaz got up from her seat while it loaded. The roof of the Voot was short, so she had to move around crouching, hands trailing along the ceiling.

"I need to piss. Did you stock the washroom's toilet paper?"

Dib nodded. "Yea… I did."

She headed to the back.