Nightmare Reboots
Part 4
Gaz's eyelids slowly rose as distant voices prattled throughout her subconscious; the sound continuously grew in volume with each passing moment. Gaz soon recognized the familiar tone of her father, Professor Membrane, as well as another, more foreign voice, "Zere vas nuzing to be vorried about profezzor, vee only needed ze green von…"
The Professor continued to converse with the strange being in a calm, but slightly irritated tone, "That may be Countess, but I highly doubt that your people suspected two random teenagers to be connected to an extraterrestrial life form just by coincidence."
Professor Membrane then turned toward a slim, green figure, chained to a wall by a set of metal shackles, "Fascinating," he said, almost to himself, "Right beneath our noses for years, hiding in plain sight." Membrane raised his hand briefly, and two uniformed guards stepped forward, from the darkness surrounding Gaz, Dib, and Zim. The guards moved toward Gaz and her brother, unchaining and throwing them over their burly shoulders, before finally exiting the chamber, the Professor quickly spun around on his heels and followed in pursuit.
Gaz managed to weakly lift her head as she was being carried away, only to see the beaten and slowly shrinking form, of Zim.
Zim had awoken during the conversation of Professor Membrane and the Countess von Verminstrasser, but continued to keep his eyes shut. A throbbing pain echoed across his forehead, initiated from both the alcohol and his incident in the van, the headache started to escalate with every single pulsing sound.
"Shall I awaken him Countess?" Came a voice; Zim faintly recognized it, he had heard it directly before his capture, but couldn't quite place the tone,
"Das vine." Replied the Countesses German accent, to which a painful electric shock briefly followed, this caused Zim to wince and writhe around in pain, "Hello zere." Zim gave a look of disdain toward the Countess, as his eyes were forced open by pain,
"I see that you've switched your field of profession Ms. Verminstrasser. Chasing aliens now, are we?" Zim was gasping for air after the electric sting, but held an exhausted smile as the Countess frowned toward his terminology,
"Zat isht 'Countess' to you, creature," After stating her correction, she quickly produced a wicked grin, and change of tone, "And no, I am shtill very much active in zine study of Lice-ology."
Zim's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "Then what purpose do I have with you, vile human?"
The Countess's head tilted to the side with curiosity, "Zon't chu remember? How could von even vorget ze Lice Queen?" The name came off her European tongue like poisoned garbage. Zim's eyes began to widen with fear as he remembered the stinging sensation of the experimental tests performed upon him during the great and terrible lice infestation. Was it all because of his skin? Had he been captured on the sole purpose of ridding the world of lice? If those tortuous tests were even legal to be performed upon him, when most believed him to be a middle school student, he shuddered to think of what the Countess could get away with now that his true form had been revealed. What did she have in store for him?
"Vell," von Verminstrasser began again, "I believe you should get some rest, after all, you have a big day tomorrow."
Meanwhile, several rooms away, Dib observed his father as he discussed the progression of Super Toast with a group of young scientists, and patiently awaited for the opportunity to question his father about what exactly was going on, perhaps he would throw in an, "I told you so" here or there. After a substantial amount of time, Professor Membrane finally dismissed his colleagues and protégés and turned toward his son, "Alright, now that that's settled, what is it that your enormous head requires?" Yet before Dib could say even one word, a voice suddenly projected throughout the small room,
"Paging Professor Membrane. Paging Professor Membrane." The voice dictated in a monotonous and automated tone, "Please report to lab 2-0-6 for the briefing of subject G." The Professor whirled around and began to sprint down the hallway, calling back to his children,
"Sorry kids! Duty calls! I still love you both!" Dib stared expectantly and unsurprised at his fathers neglect; after all, it had become a daily part in the family's life. He turned to utter something to his sister, but promptly closed his mouth as he saw her hovering over her Game Slave yet again, isolated and dead to the rest of the world,
"This family has gone to hell…" He mumbled quietly to himself, before giving chase to his father.
Dib had no trouble locating The Professor; his years of stalking paranormal apparitions throughout his neighborhood and city streets, along with the fact that all chambers of the base were clearly labeled in descending order, produced an effective and speedy tracker.
When Dib finally found room 2-0-6, he wished to crack the door open a nudge, but was denied due to the fact that it was electronic and automatic. He struggled to press his ear against the wall, then the door, and then against another wall. After several minutes of failing to gain anything with his auditory work, Dib finally accepted defeat; he then turned only to find his sister, Gaz, staring blankly at a wall. He walked up next to her, and followed her gaze to see what she was viewing. It was an observatory window, just like at the zoo, through it; the sibling's father instructed three slim scientists, as well as an older, chubbier one who occasionally snuck what seemed to be a soggy taco out of a brown paper bag.
Eventually, Professor Membrane finished his silent monologue, before turning his attention toward whatever was strapped to the operation table. The Professor briefly fiddled with some control panel, and caused the tabled to vertically hover and rise, displaying its contents.
Lying there, motionless and dead, was a white, child-sized robot. Dib's eyes widened as he wondered of the technology that would be revealed to force Gir to act like…Gir.
Membrane casually walked up to his subject, flicked its protruding antenna, then apparently told some sort of joke, due to the laughter of his assistants.
Before this point, Gir's mind was just pure void. It was as if when someone dreams of nothingness, everything was just consciously floating in blackness. He still needed his power supplier, he had never gone so long without them, and he just considered himself lucky that he didn't explode. That happened to him sometimes.
The androids antenna began to pulse a light blue color, Gaz continued to watch, uninterested, while Dib's own nose was smushed against the glass. The scientists took alarm to this and slowly began to back themselves into a nearby corner. The light pulsed faster and faster, before suddenly stopping. There was about three seconds of peace before the antenna erupted into a single blue wave of energy; it shattered any and all nearby glass and equipment. It had knocked everyone against the floor or a wall. Almost everyone. Gaz held her eyes tightly shut for a moment before popping them open, one by one, her hair had annoyingly been blown backwards, and her cloths ruffled. Gir's eyes came alive with light as he pried himself free of the table, he suddenly went into attack mode and glowed a vicious red, "Energy source located." He stated in a darker tone, before returning to his blue form, "Taco's!" He shrieked in a joyous way, before diving into the unconscious fat mans taco bag. After briefly rummaging around in the bag, he shot out of it, and landed close to Dibs lifeless body, "I love this show…" He dreamily stated before turning red again, "I must rescue the Master!" He shouted as he began charging down the hallway. Gaz was somewhat shocked throughout this surprisingly brief turn of events, never moving, not even as the people surrounding her awoke in a daze.
Inside his dark cell, Zim stared at the unapparent floor, listening to the sound of tears flow down his face and drip onto the distant ground. A pair of footsteps approached him in the darkness, "What is it now?" He questioned without looking up,
"Are we gonna make biscuits?" Came the childish voice.
All rights and characters belong to Jhonen Vasquez.
Sorry it took a little longer on this one, but I was on holiday in California, however I spent a little more time working on the story so it's longer then others…I think.
The handsome, generous, dashing, possibly-connected-to-serial-killings-in-Venezuela writer,
Allen Dillard