A/N: Sorry for the long wait all. I had to go to Leadership Training Class in order to be eligable for advancement (for those of you who don't know, I'm in the Navy) and it had crap loads of homework. Plus I ran into a bit of writer's block. To be perfectly honest, I wasn't as happy with this chapter as I could have been... I think because I wasn't happy with the direction the story was going really. Well I've thought it out, and I've decided on a new (and hopefully, ultimately better) direction for the story, and this chapter kinda reflects that. Though it kinda stretches the limits of feasibility, it occurs to me that:
A) This is my fanfic, I can do whatever the hell I want
and
B) This is a fanfic based off of a Nick cartoon made by a man who made famous the line, "Oh my god, someone put shit in my pants."
I think it's well within the scope of the series to do something... a little off the wall from time to time.
Hopefully you Enjoy.
"Mama... please be good to me. Mama... comfort me, come and take my hand. Mama, make it good, help me understand. I walk alone and, see what boys should never, see in their lifetime. I live in a world, of spirits and I talk to the walls, deliver me from this little hell... deliver me from this little hell... deliver me from..." -Oingo Boingo, Mama
There are some people who enjoy being alone.
Call them what you will, stoic, independant, solitary... even antisocial. It doesn't really matter what appellation you use to describe them, positive or negative, there have always been that breed of person. The mountain man who's spent the last 20 years surviving by his wits, or the hacker who prefers the dependable, predictable company of a digital variety, depending on who you ask, they are lunatics or pioneers.
I am not one of those people.
But wait, I imagine I can hear you say, if you don't like being alone why did are you so seldom in the company of your peers?
Some people enjoy being alone, and some have loneliness thrust upon them.
Besides, most of my peers were idiots. This is not to say I wouldn't have been overjoyed to have one of them as a friend... just that idiots, especially idiots in packs, do not mix well with the...
Intelligent? I suppose, yes, I could have been considered such. Certainly I seemed to notice more of the world around me than most, but then if I was REALLY smart, Earth would still exist wouldn't it?
Let us then say, perceptive. Yes, that sounds better. My perception of the world set me apart from it... like the trade Odin made for the ability to see the future.
Eye for soothsaying, a social life for perception. It seems like a fair trade on the surface, but then, sometimes it's better to remain ignorant. Certainly the husky hitched to the dogsled would think so, as he watches his human masters run low on food... he knows that they will turn to alternative sources of meat, meat that he would much rather remain on his own doggy bones, thank you very much. Of course, he has no CONTROL over who the men choose to eat first, so this knowledge does him no good save to give him a little doggy ulcer from worry.
I'm sure I had a point in all of this somewhere, but I think I lost it around the point where I started feeling sorry for myself. In any case, as I stared disbelievingly at Gaz, it occurred to me suddenly that not ONLY was I no longer alone, I was also in the presence of a beloved family member.
It may seem odd of me to say this... certainly our relationship was not without its rough spots, (most of them visited upon me) but I always loved my sister. She just didn't make it very easy to show it.
Of course, then my perception, intelligence, rationality, whatever the hell it was kicked in and I immediately deflated.
"You aren't real... you can't possibly be here. It's just too improbable." I said dismally.
She never looked up from her game. "Duh."
"Still, Gaz-from-my-imagination, it's nice to see you. If it were possible, I would give you a hug."
Nevermind the fact that this would have probably been my last action in this life, it was nice to see her.
"Better not. I'd hate to have to end your life, you being the last human and all."
Hey, fake or not, Gaz is Gaz.
"So it's true, then. I AM the last one?"
She shrugged. "Meh. Who says YOU were human to begin with."
"Thanks, Gaz. Man, even in my head you have nothing but insults for me. I must be really fucked up."
Gaz actually looked up for this one. She raised an eyebrow, as if to say, this didn't occur to you from the beginning?
Yeah, ok. I was currently being insulted by the loneliness fashioned ghost of my little sister, who even in her me-created state, still finds a Game Slave screen more entertaining than having a conversation with me.
Somethings go without saying not so much because they are obvious, but because they are painful.
I decided to make conversation. I mean, she was there, and if she was there, then my mind must have had a really good reason for putting her there, it would have been rude to ignore this hallucination after all the hard work my brain meat had put into it.
"So how are things?" I muttered, watching her carefully. It was a good idea to do that with Gaz. Even before she was a hallucination, she had this wierd habit of being somewhere other then you expect her once you take your eyes off of her. I had several theories as to why this might be, but the most rational one I could come up with is that physical law is scared shitless of her.
I know she scares the crap outta me sometimes, and I'm her older brother.
"Ehhh. Boring." She muttered noncommittally.
"No new games, huh?" I said sympathetically.
Annoyance flickered across her features momentarily. She put the Game Slave away.
She stared at me.
I stared back.
I sighed a little, then stifled a cough. I've been getting those off an on lately. I hope it's nothing serious (not that I have anyway of curing it if it is).
She folded her hands around her back.
"You aren't very good at this hallucination stuff are you?" I asked, somewhat annoyed. I mean, the least she could do was ask me how I was. Or... something.
You know.
"Don't blame me for your stupid brain. I don't really wanna be here either."
"Batteries running low?" I said. Yeah, it was beneath me, but this was really getting annoying.
"I don't have batteries anymore."
"Geez, Gaz... I'm-"
"Sorry?" She snorted derisively. "You got that right."
I shut up.
What else was I supposed to do?
Yes, I am fully aware of how crazy that sounds. Gimme a break, I was lonely. Not to mention the fact, how can you be crazy if you're the only one of your kind left?
It wasn't like I was going to be a danger to society. Hell, I was society. In order to be a danger to society I'd have to be a danger to myself. Do I look like the sort of person who's a danger to himself?
Don't answer that.
Ok...
So maybe I was crazy.
I started gathering my stuff. It was going to be dark soon, and the wind gets pretty cold at night. Either Dirt has no moon, or the pollution is too thick for the light to penetrate it, and unless I wanted to freeze to death or spend the next few hours stumbling around over sharp rusty metal, I'd better find some shelter.
Somewhere in all of that busy work, Gaz disappeared.
It's funny, but I really DID miss her...
I mean, granted that we didn't have a very tolerant relationship.
Ok, so our relationship fuckin' sucked, I remember a time when I was her big brother, and I protected her.
It may seem hard to believe, but there was a time when she looked up to me.
I wonder what happened?
No... I think I know. I got tired, I think. I mean, mom died when Gaz was just an infant, and I hate to say it, but I don't even really remember what she looked like, or how she smelled... alot of times in movies the kid with only one parent will tell you he remembers how his mother smelled, or he'll have a picture of her...
Dad didn't keep any pictures of her in the house. I don't think she really HAD a distinctive smell, just a sort of... mother presence. A warmth.
Ok, yeah, I know, that was pretty lame, but that's how I remember her. Or don't remember her...
Whatever.
Anyway, Dad was constantly busy at work, and I think that's how he escaped, through science. He stopped being dad somewhere in there, and started being Professor Membrane, even for us kids. So I had to look out for Gaz, and man, lemme tell you, she was ALWAYS underfoot. It got annoying really, when I was trying to find aliens (I didn't really know about investigating back then, it was more of a really one-sided hide and go seek), because she'd always ask the stupidest questions at the stupidest times. So after a while I used to ditch her...
A little while after that, she didn't ask me questions anymore.
Ok, gimme a break. I was like... 7. It wasn't my fault, it was Dads. How was I supposed to know it was gonna turn out like it did?
Oh god... Gaz. I miss you. The real you, not the you in my head.
I don't think I can take much more of this. Fuck, it's like if I were a little less smart, I could be content with my ghosts for company, but I know THESE ghosts are just in my head...
I think I just stopped believing in things I couldn't touch.
I think Dad would be proud.
***
It's been... fuck, I don't know. Five years since my last confession.
Ok, that was a little lame I guess. I don't know why I started up with this game again, I mean, its just words cast into the void, like stones cast into the dark to see how far down the madness goes.
I'm growing up, sort of. For all the good it's doing me. I'm taller... stronger. I don't have any way to get my hair cut, so I just kinda tie this ugly, dirty mess out of my eyes and hack it shorter with my scalpel when it gets too long. I don't remember what it was like to be really clean. The rain here just doesn't cut it as far as cleanliness is concerned.
Sure, it gets the dirt and the filth off, but it stains my skin red for a week.
I don't have clothes that really fit me anymore. I had to rip apart my boots years ago, reinforce the soles with whatever I could scavenge. I turned them into really crude sandals, and some days they don't even slip off, if I'm lucky. Everything else is a ragged patchwork quilt of irken uniforms and whatever else I could dig up.
I have no idea what I look like, and I'm not sure I want to. I'm... normal, I guess, or as normal as you can be when you never get enough to eat.
I hate this place.
I don't hate it for it's trash. Don't get me wrong, there are alot worse places I could have been sent (a room with a moose comes to mind, eww...). I've found enough to survive, barely.
No, I hate the emptiness of this place.
There's no life here. None but me. Every few months or so, it rains trash. That's the only thing that changes around here. Before you say anything, I've already tried signaling. I gave that up years ago. I think the garbage scows are automated. Besides, they're way too high in the upper atmosphere to see any pathetic little signal fire I could produce.
Nor would they care if they did.
Oh! Oh! I do have SOME good news though. I almost forgot!
Gaz and Dad come to visit me, sometimes. I like it better when Gaz comes, she'll actually talk with me. All Dad ever says is how sorry he is that I'm insane. I don't bother arguing with him anymore... I mean, that'd be kinda ironic wouldn't it?
I've already said what I think about irony.
Anyway, I know you're expecting some kinda revelation about my conversations with Gaz, but what's gonna come out of it really? I mean, she's me... or at least, she's my interpretation of what Gaz was like, to keep me company. It's like an obscure form of mental masturbation, really. Can't be healthy, but if talking to myself keeps me from going completely bugfuck raving mad, or... you know... taking the easy way out...
Well, I know it must seem really futile and pathetic, but at least I'm still fighting. I am. This planet is gonna have to take me out kicking and screaming.
I won't give ZIM the satisfaction.
Oh shit... sorry, the good news.
Well remember all those irken corpses I told you about? Well it's not like I had a whole lot of work to keep me occupied, so I started fiddling around with those metal packs on their backs. I took a couple apart, fiddled with their insides. I think I figured out what they are, or rather, what they're for.
See, they have a bunch of metal boxes I can't open no matter what I friggin' do to them, and a couple of these glowing green cylinders in them, which I don't mess with because its connected to the internal wiring and surrounded by this layer of really dense foil that self-repairs when it's punctured. I know a power source when I see one, and I don't want to imagine what would happen if I broke one open. Anyway, it's laid out in a really simple manner. I noticed something that looks kinda like a receiver, it's connected to this metal box that whirs when it gets heated up. That metal box is hooked up to a bunch of stuff that I can't identify, but one of them kinda looks like a bananna, if someone mashed one end of it flat. A ribbon fiber optic cable (or something that looks like one) extends from that to the outer casing of the pack, then branch off into the form of those angel hair like wires I saw in Ed so long ago. Those wires are connected to the nervous system of the Irkens who's packs I stole.
Anyway, I think those boxes are like behavioral control modules, maybe some storage memory... plus some biomonitors. I watched one when the garbage scows came over head, and a little LED lit up on the box thingy when that happened. I think they receive a signal or something, but what that signal does, I just don't know enough to even guess. I do know that Zim got wierder and wierder it seemed, as time went by... maybe he was out of range or something.
out of range of what, you ask? I don't know.
What I DO know is basic electrical theory.
How does this help you ask?
Well, it doesn't, at least, not really. It gives me something to do though. Plus I have a hope, a plan. It's a little one but it's all I have...
I'm hoping these things don't just receive, they transmit. It would make sense. If these things ARE like little spy cams or monitors, then they'd HAVE to send data as WELL as receive it.
Problem is, if they do transmit, they receive a hell of alot better. Bear in mind this is all just conjecture, but my theory is this.
If I can boost the signal sufficiently enough, it'll look suspicious. The Irkens are paranoid, at least, they are if they're anything like Zim was. They've probably forgotten about me by now, hell, they might have forgotten this friggin' ship is even here. If I can send a strong enough signal out from this planet, MAYBE... maybe someone will come and investigate...
Which means... a way off this fucking rock.
Hence the relevence of basic electrical theory.
Hook two power supplies together in series, you make a single circuit that produces double the normal voltage. This means more current, and a stronger signal. Problem is, the circuit is only designed to handle so much current. I busted three or four of the packs figuring out that they have some kinda fuse in them. Um... then I smoked two of them when I bypassed to fuse and let the current run for ten minutes.
So I started experimenting with various materials I could find, looking for something with just the right amount of resistance. With no equipment to test it, it took me a long time... a year of trial and error, but I think I've got it right.
Now, hook up several receiver/transmitters in parallel, connect the wires just so...
Then hook THAT up to a highly conductive, metal dish thing I found a while back, and then insulated with the rubberized portions of a few Irken boots...
You have a super-Irken-pack-thingy-signal-transmitter, but no way to power it.
No way several batteries are going to produce enough current to give a good signal. In order to make this work, I needed a transformer, and an amplifier.
Take a piece of Iron, and hook it up to a battery. Suspend it in the middle of several loops of wire, then keep adding batteries to the iron in parallel. Run a magnet against the iron, you've got an electro magnet. Now spin the sucker as hard and as constantly as you can. I hooked it to two ends of stick, then attached that to a gear train connected to a wheel thing I'd created, with a series of gears and the right amount of muscle power, you've got a decent generator. The magnet spins, the magnetic lines of force create current as they pass through the wires, and...
You have alternating current.
Now, take a couple of those light emitting diodes, a capacitor scavenged off an old piece of junk, a transistor, and one of those resistors you've... I've... whatever we I am... fuck.
Calm down. Breathe...
Make it work.
Hook all that up in parallel, and in the right way and you've got an transformer-amplifier circuit producing direct current.
Translation, you've got a power supply.
All I've gotta do now is put the two contraptions together.
God... I hope this works.
A couple sparks, a loud hum... some smoke...
I think... I think I taste copper...
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
I pedaled for... it must have been five hours before I finally quite and collapsed into a defeated heap.
I'm too tired to be depressed.
That comes tomorrow.
***
A) This is my fanfic, I can do whatever the hell I want
and
B) This is a fanfic based off of a Nick cartoon made by a man who made famous the line, "Oh my god, someone put shit in my pants."
I think it's well within the scope of the series to do something... a little off the wall from time to time.
Hopefully you Enjoy.
"Mama... please be good to me. Mama... comfort me, come and take my hand. Mama, make it good, help me understand. I walk alone and, see what boys should never, see in their lifetime. I live in a world, of spirits and I talk to the walls, deliver me from this little hell... deliver me from this little hell... deliver me from..." -Oingo Boingo, Mama
There are some people who enjoy being alone.
Call them what you will, stoic, independant, solitary... even antisocial. It doesn't really matter what appellation you use to describe them, positive or negative, there have always been that breed of person. The mountain man who's spent the last 20 years surviving by his wits, or the hacker who prefers the dependable, predictable company of a digital variety, depending on who you ask, they are lunatics or pioneers.
I am not one of those people.
But wait, I imagine I can hear you say, if you don't like being alone why did are you so seldom in the company of your peers?
Some people enjoy being alone, and some have loneliness thrust upon them.
Besides, most of my peers were idiots. This is not to say I wouldn't have been overjoyed to have one of them as a friend... just that idiots, especially idiots in packs, do not mix well with the...
Intelligent? I suppose, yes, I could have been considered such. Certainly I seemed to notice more of the world around me than most, but then if I was REALLY smart, Earth would still exist wouldn't it?
Let us then say, perceptive. Yes, that sounds better. My perception of the world set me apart from it... like the trade Odin made for the ability to see the future.
Eye for soothsaying, a social life for perception. It seems like a fair trade on the surface, but then, sometimes it's better to remain ignorant. Certainly the husky hitched to the dogsled would think so, as he watches his human masters run low on food... he knows that they will turn to alternative sources of meat, meat that he would much rather remain on his own doggy bones, thank you very much. Of course, he has no CONTROL over who the men choose to eat first, so this knowledge does him no good save to give him a little doggy ulcer from worry.
I'm sure I had a point in all of this somewhere, but I think I lost it around the point where I started feeling sorry for myself. In any case, as I stared disbelievingly at Gaz, it occurred to me suddenly that not ONLY was I no longer alone, I was also in the presence of a beloved family member.
It may seem odd of me to say this... certainly our relationship was not without its rough spots, (most of them visited upon me) but I always loved my sister. She just didn't make it very easy to show it.
Of course, then my perception, intelligence, rationality, whatever the hell it was kicked in and I immediately deflated.
"You aren't real... you can't possibly be here. It's just too improbable." I said dismally.
She never looked up from her game. "Duh."
"Still, Gaz-from-my-imagination, it's nice to see you. If it were possible, I would give you a hug."
Nevermind the fact that this would have probably been my last action in this life, it was nice to see her.
"Better not. I'd hate to have to end your life, you being the last human and all."
Hey, fake or not, Gaz is Gaz.
"So it's true, then. I AM the last one?"
She shrugged. "Meh. Who says YOU were human to begin with."
"Thanks, Gaz. Man, even in my head you have nothing but insults for me. I must be really fucked up."
Gaz actually looked up for this one. She raised an eyebrow, as if to say, this didn't occur to you from the beginning?
Yeah, ok. I was currently being insulted by the loneliness fashioned ghost of my little sister, who even in her me-created state, still finds a Game Slave screen more entertaining than having a conversation with me.
Somethings go without saying not so much because they are obvious, but because they are painful.
I decided to make conversation. I mean, she was there, and if she was there, then my mind must have had a really good reason for putting her there, it would have been rude to ignore this hallucination after all the hard work my brain meat had put into it.
"So how are things?" I muttered, watching her carefully. It was a good idea to do that with Gaz. Even before she was a hallucination, she had this wierd habit of being somewhere other then you expect her once you take your eyes off of her. I had several theories as to why this might be, but the most rational one I could come up with is that physical law is scared shitless of her.
I know she scares the crap outta me sometimes, and I'm her older brother.
"Ehhh. Boring." She muttered noncommittally.
"No new games, huh?" I said sympathetically.
Annoyance flickered across her features momentarily. She put the Game Slave away.
She stared at me.
I stared back.
I sighed a little, then stifled a cough. I've been getting those off an on lately. I hope it's nothing serious (not that I have anyway of curing it if it is).
She folded her hands around her back.
"You aren't very good at this hallucination stuff are you?" I asked, somewhat annoyed. I mean, the least she could do was ask me how I was. Or... something.
You know.
"Don't blame me for your stupid brain. I don't really wanna be here either."
"Batteries running low?" I said. Yeah, it was beneath me, but this was really getting annoying.
"I don't have batteries anymore."
"Geez, Gaz... I'm-"
"Sorry?" She snorted derisively. "You got that right."
I shut up.
What else was I supposed to do?
Yes, I am fully aware of how crazy that sounds. Gimme a break, I was lonely. Not to mention the fact, how can you be crazy if you're the only one of your kind left?
It wasn't like I was going to be a danger to society. Hell, I was society. In order to be a danger to society I'd have to be a danger to myself. Do I look like the sort of person who's a danger to himself?
Don't answer that.
Ok...
So maybe I was crazy.
I started gathering my stuff. It was going to be dark soon, and the wind gets pretty cold at night. Either Dirt has no moon, or the pollution is too thick for the light to penetrate it, and unless I wanted to freeze to death or spend the next few hours stumbling around over sharp rusty metal, I'd better find some shelter.
Somewhere in all of that busy work, Gaz disappeared.
It's funny, but I really DID miss her...
I mean, granted that we didn't have a very tolerant relationship.
Ok, so our relationship fuckin' sucked, I remember a time when I was her big brother, and I protected her.
It may seem hard to believe, but there was a time when she looked up to me.
I wonder what happened?
No... I think I know. I got tired, I think. I mean, mom died when Gaz was just an infant, and I hate to say it, but I don't even really remember what she looked like, or how she smelled... alot of times in movies the kid with only one parent will tell you he remembers how his mother smelled, or he'll have a picture of her...
Dad didn't keep any pictures of her in the house. I don't think she really HAD a distinctive smell, just a sort of... mother presence. A warmth.
Ok, yeah, I know, that was pretty lame, but that's how I remember her. Or don't remember her...
Whatever.
Anyway, Dad was constantly busy at work, and I think that's how he escaped, through science. He stopped being dad somewhere in there, and started being Professor Membrane, even for us kids. So I had to look out for Gaz, and man, lemme tell you, she was ALWAYS underfoot. It got annoying really, when I was trying to find aliens (I didn't really know about investigating back then, it was more of a really one-sided hide and go seek), because she'd always ask the stupidest questions at the stupidest times. So after a while I used to ditch her...
A little while after that, she didn't ask me questions anymore.
Ok, gimme a break. I was like... 7. It wasn't my fault, it was Dads. How was I supposed to know it was gonna turn out like it did?
Oh god... Gaz. I miss you. The real you, not the you in my head.
I don't think I can take much more of this. Fuck, it's like if I were a little less smart, I could be content with my ghosts for company, but I know THESE ghosts are just in my head...
I think I just stopped believing in things I couldn't touch.
I think Dad would be proud.
***
It's been... fuck, I don't know. Five years since my last confession.
Ok, that was a little lame I guess. I don't know why I started up with this game again, I mean, its just words cast into the void, like stones cast into the dark to see how far down the madness goes.
I'm growing up, sort of. For all the good it's doing me. I'm taller... stronger. I don't have any way to get my hair cut, so I just kinda tie this ugly, dirty mess out of my eyes and hack it shorter with my scalpel when it gets too long. I don't remember what it was like to be really clean. The rain here just doesn't cut it as far as cleanliness is concerned.
Sure, it gets the dirt and the filth off, but it stains my skin red for a week.
I don't have clothes that really fit me anymore. I had to rip apart my boots years ago, reinforce the soles with whatever I could scavenge. I turned them into really crude sandals, and some days they don't even slip off, if I'm lucky. Everything else is a ragged patchwork quilt of irken uniforms and whatever else I could dig up.
I have no idea what I look like, and I'm not sure I want to. I'm... normal, I guess, or as normal as you can be when you never get enough to eat.
I hate this place.
I don't hate it for it's trash. Don't get me wrong, there are alot worse places I could have been sent (a room with a moose comes to mind, eww...). I've found enough to survive, barely.
No, I hate the emptiness of this place.
There's no life here. None but me. Every few months or so, it rains trash. That's the only thing that changes around here. Before you say anything, I've already tried signaling. I gave that up years ago. I think the garbage scows are automated. Besides, they're way too high in the upper atmosphere to see any pathetic little signal fire I could produce.
Nor would they care if they did.
Oh! Oh! I do have SOME good news though. I almost forgot!
Gaz and Dad come to visit me, sometimes. I like it better when Gaz comes, she'll actually talk with me. All Dad ever says is how sorry he is that I'm insane. I don't bother arguing with him anymore... I mean, that'd be kinda ironic wouldn't it?
I've already said what I think about irony.
Anyway, I know you're expecting some kinda revelation about my conversations with Gaz, but what's gonna come out of it really? I mean, she's me... or at least, she's my interpretation of what Gaz was like, to keep me company. It's like an obscure form of mental masturbation, really. Can't be healthy, but if talking to myself keeps me from going completely bugfuck raving mad, or... you know... taking the easy way out...
Well, I know it must seem really futile and pathetic, but at least I'm still fighting. I am. This planet is gonna have to take me out kicking and screaming.
I won't give ZIM the satisfaction.
Oh shit... sorry, the good news.
Well remember all those irken corpses I told you about? Well it's not like I had a whole lot of work to keep me occupied, so I started fiddling around with those metal packs on their backs. I took a couple apart, fiddled with their insides. I think I figured out what they are, or rather, what they're for.
See, they have a bunch of metal boxes I can't open no matter what I friggin' do to them, and a couple of these glowing green cylinders in them, which I don't mess with because its connected to the internal wiring and surrounded by this layer of really dense foil that self-repairs when it's punctured. I know a power source when I see one, and I don't want to imagine what would happen if I broke one open. Anyway, it's laid out in a really simple manner. I noticed something that looks kinda like a receiver, it's connected to this metal box that whirs when it gets heated up. That metal box is hooked up to a bunch of stuff that I can't identify, but one of them kinda looks like a bananna, if someone mashed one end of it flat. A ribbon fiber optic cable (or something that looks like one) extends from that to the outer casing of the pack, then branch off into the form of those angel hair like wires I saw in Ed so long ago. Those wires are connected to the nervous system of the Irkens who's packs I stole.
Anyway, I think those boxes are like behavioral control modules, maybe some storage memory... plus some biomonitors. I watched one when the garbage scows came over head, and a little LED lit up on the box thingy when that happened. I think they receive a signal or something, but what that signal does, I just don't know enough to even guess. I do know that Zim got wierder and wierder it seemed, as time went by... maybe he was out of range or something.
out of range of what, you ask? I don't know.
What I DO know is basic electrical theory.
How does this help you ask?
Well, it doesn't, at least, not really. It gives me something to do though. Plus I have a hope, a plan. It's a little one but it's all I have...
I'm hoping these things don't just receive, they transmit. It would make sense. If these things ARE like little spy cams or monitors, then they'd HAVE to send data as WELL as receive it.
Problem is, if they do transmit, they receive a hell of alot better. Bear in mind this is all just conjecture, but my theory is this.
If I can boost the signal sufficiently enough, it'll look suspicious. The Irkens are paranoid, at least, they are if they're anything like Zim was. They've probably forgotten about me by now, hell, they might have forgotten this friggin' ship is even here. If I can send a strong enough signal out from this planet, MAYBE... maybe someone will come and investigate...
Which means... a way off this fucking rock.
Hence the relevence of basic electrical theory.
Hook two power supplies together in series, you make a single circuit that produces double the normal voltage. This means more current, and a stronger signal. Problem is, the circuit is only designed to handle so much current. I busted three or four of the packs figuring out that they have some kinda fuse in them. Um... then I smoked two of them when I bypassed to fuse and let the current run for ten minutes.
So I started experimenting with various materials I could find, looking for something with just the right amount of resistance. With no equipment to test it, it took me a long time... a year of trial and error, but I think I've got it right.
Now, hook up several receiver/transmitters in parallel, connect the wires just so...
Then hook THAT up to a highly conductive, metal dish thing I found a while back, and then insulated with the rubberized portions of a few Irken boots...
You have a super-Irken-pack-thingy-signal-transmitter, but no way to power it.
No way several batteries are going to produce enough current to give a good signal. In order to make this work, I needed a transformer, and an amplifier.
Take a piece of Iron, and hook it up to a battery. Suspend it in the middle of several loops of wire, then keep adding batteries to the iron in parallel. Run a magnet against the iron, you've got an electro magnet. Now spin the sucker as hard and as constantly as you can. I hooked it to two ends of stick, then attached that to a gear train connected to a wheel thing I'd created, with a series of gears and the right amount of muscle power, you've got a decent generator. The magnet spins, the magnetic lines of force create current as they pass through the wires, and...
You have alternating current.
Now, take a couple of those light emitting diodes, a capacitor scavenged off an old piece of junk, a transistor, and one of those resistors you've... I've... whatever we I am... fuck.
Calm down. Breathe...
Make it work.
Hook all that up in parallel, and in the right way and you've got an transformer-amplifier circuit producing direct current.
Translation, you've got a power supply.
All I've gotta do now is put the two contraptions together.
God... I hope this works.
A couple sparks, a loud hum... some smoke...
I think... I think I taste copper...
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
I pedaled for... it must have been five hours before I finally quite and collapsed into a defeated heap.
I'm too tired to be depressed.
That comes tomorrow.
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