(A/N: I am not pleased. I had this whole chapter written, and I lost the copy. Holy shit! I mean, really?! I lose that thing?! Dumb, piss-ass luck, that's how...well that delayed the release of this chapter for quite some time so for this, I thank you. Thank you for sticking with me anyways (whoever you are since no one but ngrey651 and QueenofUndergrowth reviewed this *hint**hint*) and to the asshole who decided to delete this: tumut. Also: I get a bit conflicted when writing this. I want to continue to make Zim as verbose as I feel he is wont to be, but I need to keep his syllable-counting. Doing both is hard. This chapter gives hints to fandoms and objects that have been sucking my time away. Especially most of the PAPPS. Enjoy!)
DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, own /Invader Zim/ or any of its affiliated characters and ideas. I do, however, own Zim's OCD, Gaz's autism, Dib's depression, PAK, and Irken forme (although I don't own the original idea of an Irken!Dib), the PAPPS (PAK apps), IRKMATE, spy(x8)dr, the emoticons used here, and En/'Real Zim'. The aforementioned 'not owned by me' items belong to the Antichrist: Viacom.
Chapter Five: A Monkey's Paw
[[ZIM n'oke u'nakeda'e'tsa'runakedan DIB_ DIB f'trasestuts'ants'etsu ZIM s'oke mets'umacen-Welohalkyas do'kes'etsu DIB n'oke cenokenakef'tokeranmetsu/ F'tumats'halketsuran ranets'eettssuuarucenhalk nak'eettssuudanetsudan- - -]](1)
Gaz was furious; no, more than furious, she was enraged! Dib was acting weird, well...weirder than normal. First there was the whole "Irken in his bedroom" thing—his Macbook Pro had been thoroughly trashed for that offence—and now he was being quiet on their walk to Skool!
Dib was never quiet, especially when it came to Skoolday mornings.
"Th' hell's your problem?! And what was an Irken doing in your room?!" Gaz snapped at a spacey Dib, fingers tightening around her Gameslave 3D. There was no reason for her not to try and salvage her morning routine, even if Dib was going to be an ass about it.
Dib jerked up to meet Gaz's eyes, "What?! Nothing's wrong! Why would you think anything's wrong?! Eh-heh-heh..." He flinched, waiting for the storm to hit but Gaz just scowled and went back to her game of Piggy Hunter DX. "As-as for the Irken in my room, its...its my 'idiot alien' costume. I made it for Doom Con in March. You like it?" He gave her a thin smile, unconvincing and fake.
Everything about me is fake. Fake skin, fake smile, fake human. All FAKE!
RETRY Y/N?—MOOD STABILISATION IN PROGRESS: 15%...48%...59%...71!,9/)1&:!7!.€]!\¥!—ERROR 300496: BREAKDOWN IN EMOTIONAL FILTER PROCESS—RETRY Y/N?—MOOD STABILISATION IN PROGRESS: 11%...27%...33%...):72!: /$!2$:$/!—ERROR 300496: BREAKDOWN IN EMOTIONAL FILTER PROGRESS—RETRY Y/N?
There were some things even a PAK couldn't fix. Depression and problems with the human psyche were on that list apparently.
Failure. I am such a failure.
Then let them be Invaded. Let the Empire win.
Dib wasn't sure whether or not that was him or the PAK, but he hated that voice; it reminded him of the 'real Zim'.
But they're my people, my race, they're humans!
And you're not...
Depression, anger, depression, anger, with the toss of a coin his emotions changed, never stable, volatile and unpredictable.
RETRY Y/N?—MOOD STABILISATION IN PROGRESS
"So the scrawny little bastard has the audacity to hug me! I popped his head off his neck like a grape from the vine," Gaz said nonchalantly as she rapidly mashed the B button, stabbing PIG'LYBOLB in its multiple eyes. "Then the freak just grows it back, like its no big deal. I'm telling you, Iggins is not human."
Irony, for her to be ignored now
Shut up!
Dib only nodded along as the Hi-Skool building came into view, the sickening feeling of dread pooling in his...squeedilyspooch? That was the singular organ the Irkens have, wasn't it?
Squeedilyspooch: often abbreviated as 'spooch, the squeedilyspooch functions as the stomach, intestines, kidneys, and urinary tract system. Other Irken organs include a dual-chambered sanguine transport system known as the treab, the brain-meats, and an inflating methane-pusher called the blen.
Thanks for the info there, it really helped...
Skool was going to suck.
[[Weloyas ZIM etsulierpre'tsuitsanakegan DIB/ DIB etsunak'etsuyas# DIB, ZIM setsuli'aruv'tetsu# Setsuoke weloyas ZIM cethar'e'tsu/- - -]](2)
Zim wasn't quite sure why he was participating in this inane dance of 'master' and 'servant' with Dib. Why bother? Why even try to make Dib's assimilation into Irkenkind pleasant in the first place? He was the Dib! He was an inferior, a skaatel! So why the attachment?
Because you are broken, a dark voice inside Zim's head hissed.
Nonsense! Zim replied, Zim is perfect! He stuck his nasal-ridge high in the air and frowned. What audacity that voice had, insisting that Zim was broken! Zim was not broken because he was Zim and he would not be Zim if he was broken because broken is defective, and defective is not Irken, and Zim is very clearly Irken, so Zim is not broken.
His logic was so infallible sometimes, he even amazed himself.
Take that. Zim was so preoccupied with his mental battle with the voice in his head that he almost didn't notice Dib coming in and sitting down.
Almost.
As the human-turned-Irken plopped his rear in his chair, he looked toward Zim and then away again. Hm. Seems as though he is still mad at Zim...
The klass started with the infernal ringing of the warning bell and locking of the doors. The hideous klass teacher, Ms. Bitters, materialised in the front of the klassroom, right in front of Dib, and leered at the disguised Irken. Dib made eye contact with her and then paled considerably, looking rather ill. She hissed and then went about her business of calling roll and banishing the tardy students to the underground klassrooms.
Zim noticed all of this, of course, because he was paying so much attention. So, in order to further understand his Dib—his Dib?—he opened up the command prompt on his implant-screen(3).
«EXECUTE PAPP:S8RV4.6»
«EXECUTING...»
«#####|_04|)1|\|6######»
«RUNNING PAPP:S8RV4.6»
The logo for the spy(x8)dr(4) popped up on his implant-screen in the bottom of his left implant. The smiling spider-bot's eyes flickered and the vid-feed from Dib appeared in each eye.
Dib was writing on a piece of paper, scribbling down notes on the klass as well as some random musing. Zim maximised the Ocular feed and began to copy down what he was writing.
zim is nuts...no that thing is nuts! REAL zim REAL irken
what would i even call it? en? short for 'real irken'?
whatever...jeeze ms. bitters is terrifying...i never knew she looked like that! what the heck?!
she was black and shadowy...all freaking tendril-y...
ugh...she freaking creeps me out...i wonder what zim is doing?
x=2y+(3*15) if x=1/2*(i-/3) solve
dang math sucks
This is boring, Zim decided. Just-decanted smeets know higher level maths than hyuman smeet...adult...teen...things... He pulled up the command prompt again and began preparations to irk the Dib-thing.
«EXECUTE PAPP:IMV2338.53»
«#####MINIMISE PAPP:S8RV4.6—INTCR-3#####»
«EXECUTING»
«#####|_04|)1|\|6#####»
«RUNNING PAPP:IMV2338.53»
The happy-face style Irken logo for IrkMate(5) popped up on his left implant-screen, sneering at Zim. He activated the PAPP and pulled up Dib's PAK ID.
—PAK#2228008222 [ZiM] IS IRKING PAK#26913-20189-12114-19520205 [DiB]—
ZiM: Hey Dib-filth! ! !
ZiM: Heeeey! ! !
ZiM: Pay attention to Zim! ! !
DiB: what the heck is this even?! :/
DiB: zim?!
DiB: are you seriously iming me in my head? :?
ZiM: What is this 'iming' thing you speak of? ? ?
ZiM: Also, turn off those odd face...thingies...
DiB: help! zims in my head! crap! what?! i cant stop! aaaaaaaaaaaaah! X(
ZiM: comPAKt/search/missive_1|?|{|\/|473-|_|5463%#
ZiM: Open this link and then come back.
ZiM: Galaxweb should allow for you to access this. The block that Zim installed allows for browsing of non-lethal topics like IrkMate.
There was a long pause in which Zim watched Dib browse the Galaxweb page for operating IrkMate. When he did finally reply, Zim had almost pulled his antennae off from boredom.
DiB: ok i think ive got it :)
ZiM: Great Irk, you're way too slow! ! !
ZiM: And stop with the faces! ! ! Zim commands you to stop! ! !
DiB: no :P
Zim slammed his head on his desk, the loud smack drawing the attention of Ms. Bitters, who slithered a single tendril out at him. The tentacle caressed his face and he shuddered, the warmth leeching from his skin. Cold-blooded or otherwise, any person wouldn't appreciate the embodiment of anti-matter touching you. Especially if you're the insectile, egotistical, irritating Zim.
DiB: euch...what is she? :/
ZiM: It's a D'thir.
DiB: a what now?
ZiM: You've seen the Meekrob, right? ? ?
DiB: the shoe aliens? yeah...major drag
ZiM: Yes, correct.
ZiM: The Meekrob are a race of incorporeal energy, made of light.
ZiM: D'thir are the polar opposite; anti-matter shoved into a corporeal existence.
DiB: corporeal anti-matter?! isnt that a bit of a conundrum?
DiB: how does something made of the opposite of matter become matter?
ZiM: It's top-level science that your puny human brain-meats would be incapable of comprehending.
DiB: im the son of the worlds leading scientist. try me :/
ZiM: ...okay then.
ZiM: If you insist on polluting your mind with folly, be my guest.
DiB: lay it on me! :)
Zim sighed and continued scribbling math notes on his paper. He had not been planning on a metaphysics lesson, nor was he going to enjoy it. Ex-scientist or otherwise, the possibility of corporeal anti-matter was not an easily explainable one.
ZiM: Although anti-matter is the opposite of matter, it does, in fact, have a form. D'thir, which are composed entirely of anti-matter, have—merely operating on the aforementioned principal—a body.
ZiM: While it is not a body as beings of matter, such as hyumans and Irkens, it is still a body.
ZiM: As such, they need to feed; however, since anti-matter is rare, and matter would cause a horrendous reaction within the universe, the D'thir have learned to sustain themselves on fear and despair.
DiB: ...oh...0_0
DiB: weirdly enough, that explains a lot :/
DiB: go figure
Wait, Zim thought about what he was doing for a second. He was having a polite conversation with his enemy-turned-friend-of-a-sort! A polite conversation. Polite. Conversation. With. The. Dib-Irken. It was time to abort mission.
ZiM: Now don't forget to compile information for me to review later today, after this filthy facsimile of a learning institution closes for the afternoon, that is.
DiB: c-/:
DiB: whatever.
—PAK#26913-20189-12114-19520205 [DiB] CEASED IRKING PAK#2228008222 [ZiM]—
«CLOSE PAPP:IMV2338.53»
«#####INQUIRY_CLOSE PAPP:S8RV4.6?#####»
Zim glanced over at Dib, and then at the spy(x8)dr screen. The Dib was furiously diagramming what sorts of nasty experiments he's like to do to Zim, in vivid detail. His heart-rate was high and his dopamine levels were fluctuating rapidly; unnaturally, even. Gel tears blurred the corners of the viewing-screen, preventing Zim from seeing the words scribbled around the edges of the nasty doodles, but he had a feeling they weren't nice.
That made him get a hollow feeling in the pit of his squeedilyspooch, an unusual feeling that caused his antennae to press against his skull in confusion.
Why? He wondered, do I feel this way?
Because you are broken, hissed the voice. This time, he had no rebuttal for it.
«YES»
«EXECUTE COMMAND»
Translation Notes:
(1) ZIM n'oke u'nakeda'e'tsa'runakedan DIB_ DIB f'trasestuts'ants'etsu ZIM s'oke mets'umacen-Welohalkyas do'kes'etsu DIB n'oke cenokenakef'tokeranmetsu/ F'tumats'halketsuran ranets'eettssuuarucenhalk nak'eettssuudanetsudan- - -: Phonetic Irken. Zim [does] not understand [him], [he] frustrates [me] so much. Why does [he] not conform? Further research needed...
(2) Weloyas ZIM etsulierpre'tsuitsanakegan DIB/ DIB etsunak'etsuyas# DIB, ZIM setsuli'aruv'tetsu# Setsuoke weloyas ZIM cethar'e'tsu/- - -: Phonetic Irken. Why [am I] helping [him]? [He is the] enemy! [He is my] slave! So why [do I] care?...
(3) implant-screen: Irken ocular implants, much like the rest of their nifty features, are mechanical. They function, not only as eyes, but as a camera lens and a viewing screen for PAPPs. The implant-screen can run multiple PAPPs (PAK-APPlications), much like any normal computer monitor. They usually are kept out of line-of-sight so that the Irken—more often an Invader than not—can still see perfectly enough to function in battle.
(4) spy(x8)dr: a PAPP that remotely accesses a set of eight spy drones that are implanted in all Irken prisoners of war and persons of interest. They attach themselves to nerve-endings—or, in Dib's case, PAK wires—and act as a normal neurotransmitter while recording and broadcasting whatever the person of interest is seeing/hearing/doing as well as their vital signs.
(5) IrkMate: a chat client designed for team invasions. Originally designed to help Irkens scattered across a planet to covertly communicate, IrkMate became a tool for social interaction among the Taller Irken. However, back when Zim, Red, Skoodge, Tak, and Purple were indoctrinated into the Elite, it was a standard-issue PAPP for covert ops. Now, even in its late running, it is no less popular.