A/N - Formatting seems to work against me here, sorry for lack of indentation and all that.

For centuries it had operated.
Thousands, if not millions, had been born in this chamber, from each of the encapsulated vats. Sealed in the walls, each life inside began as a single seed of randomized DNA. Feeding on the green fluid, genetic instructions (the result of untold millennia of evolution and genetic engineering) carried out their duties. A small, feeble body would be synthesized, it's general form and destiny controlled by that random set of genes. A pair of antennae would develop as the tiny blob of flesh developed, bristling with thousands of tiny nerves as the jet-black point ended in either a natural point or a curl, depending on the gender of the Irken Smeet.

The head would receive the most focus as the smeet developed; the durable skull encasing a master control center, along with subcutaneous sensors, not unlike a Human's nose, though much more refined and sensitive. It's zipper-like teeth would begin to form, a snakelike tongue as well (though the former starts out as a single solitary tooth). It's limbs would develop more slowly, but they would be ready when they were needed. A pair of arms would jut from the shoulders, ending in three slender fingers, and a pair of legs would sprout, ending in tiny feet.

Developing and taking form, every smeet was differently shaped, though all were curled into a tight ball, oblivious to the world around it. It may kick and spasm at times, but only harmlessly, unconscious. Eventually, when the time was right, the smeet would become dimly aware of the world, and the capsule itself would react.

The capsule itself was a unique design; a self-contained marvel of automated systems such as life support, temperature regulation, as well as maturation analyzation. Inscribed on the top was a simple holographic icon, with three simple states, all reflecting the pictographic style of Irken Culture. While the smeet gestated, a dormant, inexpressive trio of lines would be displayed; eyes and mouth closed. When the smeet had reached just the right point, a celebrative green expression would be displayed, wide eyes and a wide grin, a new member of the Irken Race ready to be born. The rarest was the one signifying loss; a solid black frown with a mournful face.

Today, there had been many happy faces.

Patiently, the control brain waited; with green grins aplenty the mechanized arms did their duty with swiftness and efficiency, unscrewing each vat from the rounded, darkened walls with ease. With a hiss of steam, the latest module emerged, pulled from the warmth of the chamber, the smeet tucked into a ball. The second arm would swing in close behind, grasping the end with care and bringing it out over one of the many tiles on the ground, a constantly practiced maneuver. The liquid inside bubbled a bit, and the smeet was unmoving.
Then, with whirr of the servos, each arm bent the capsule effortlessly, the glass shattering and the life-sustaining fluid flowing out; the quick-break hinge had done it's job, and the capsule was replaced for future use. The smeet, amidst glass and fluid, flopped onto the ground with it's sudden entrance into the world quiet, but rather brutal.
The arms descended again, this time upon the silent newborn, face-down on the ground. The first sent two heated spikes into his spine, and within a second, the precious PAK unit held between the spikes was plunged forth, and the two connectors made quick contact, fusing and interfacing with the unmoving, silent child.
The arm withdrew, it's partner swinging in from the other side, hovering in place for a moment. A sudden jolt of electricity flowed over the motionless smeet, arcing from the mechanical limb. The arm pulled up a twitch, and the child bolted up, naked, soaking, and cold; but it did not shiver.
"Welcome to Life, Irken Child," The Control Brain echoed, it's tone welcoming, the smeet unblinking. "Report for Duty." It looked about for an instant, it's rare blue eyes taking in it's environment in the fraction of a second. Curiously, it snapped off a rigid salute; unusual at such an early stage.
"Affirmative. Reporting for Duty." It squeaked. Such was the way of the Irken, however, for it was Duty from Birth. Thus, the Control Brain resumed it's duties without pause, a feeling of satisfaction washing over it; another successful birth.
Later would recall the day with sorrow, as many would; for it was the day the Irken who caused Horrible Painful Overload Day was born. The day he was born. A plentiful day of green grins replaced with five long years of black frowns.
Such was the way of the Zim; destruction wherever he went.

In the present, however, the oblivious smeet dropped, falling into a tube. Down he went for some time, through all manner of spiraling metal and glass, seeing glimpses of endless circuitry beyond with the occasional other chute. Suddenly, the tube ended, and he was spat out into a plain metal chair in another spherical, darkened room. He glanced about quickly, and awaited his fate with open blue eyes. He didn't have to wait long.
"You are two minutes old, little smeet." Came the same voice. "Prepare to be filled with the whole of Irken Knowledge." His antennae twitched a bit, and he narrowed an eye.
"All of it?" He asked no one. Then, with a shriek and whirr of metal and servos, something from the chair connected with the life-sustaining device on his back, and everything went dark.

The Irken child twitched and spasmed, electricity arcing about the chamber as data was activated, drawn and poured into the PAK. History, language, all manner of data; though with countless thousands of terabytes of the stuff to download, the process was fast, and errors were commonly non-existant. With this one, the upload seemed to go cleanly. Then, as suddenly as it began, it ceased; the connections were severed, and the restraints withdrew.

A moment later, his vision began to return as his eyes opened halfway. His mind swam with a shocking plethora of technical knowledge and ancient history; everything new, yet somehow familiar.
"Upload complete. You have been given a name." A name, he echoed. He mentally pushed aside what he could, and looked for a name.
Name, name, name…
"IDENTIFY YOURSELF." The machine ordered. His eyes shot open, and his back became rigid.
"I am Averii. Upload complete. Awaiting my duty." Satisfied, the Machine pushed the Irken from the chair, and in dropped the next; a young, red-eyed one.
Not long after, Horrible Painful Overload Day ensued, plunging Irk into five years of darkness.