Chapter 14: " Times and Times away "

Invader Zim spat out a dark, green oozing liquid that was starting to surface out from his damaged jaw. He breathed out an unsteady sigh, more of a gasp, and willed himself to stand upon shaky stature. Finally on his feet, the Guardian struck out again, and slammed the pummel against the back of his knee, immediately disabling him as he toppled over his crippled knee. Zim held back his breath, because he was sure that if he were to allow himself to breathe, he would be screaming. However it was getting harder and harder to do so. Skoodge no longer cared about his show of dignity; he allowed whimpers and cries to escape as they cocked their arms back and when the pummel made contact with him. That was what they wanted. For them to brake. For them to show fear and cowardice.

Zim gritted his teeth, and a constricted groan passed as he tried to use his crushed knee. Before he had time to realize or notice, a substantial swipe to his head disoriented him, whipping his head to the side and he'd dropped to the floor like a lifeless doll.

" That is enough." A deep voice spoke. The guards stood their ground, and stiffened. The sounds were muffled to Zim, and his head felt as if it were trying to split open. He felt tears escape his eyes, and trail down his face as he lied there, in the moment not wanting to live. His head throbbed, his knee ached and pain was flowing his body like blood through veins. He was grateful for a moment that the Guardian's pummels weren't made of the same iron of the floor.

A figure passed by the two, and signaled for their departure. They saluted, and turned around in sequence. Once out of the room, the figure turned to the two who lied before her.

" It truly dumbfounds me that you two thought you could really do it." She spoke, airily. With disinterest in her tone, and mordant accusation. " It was a good run while it lasted. Another few days, and you two would've been promoted as citizens of the State of Irk...However the programs don't lie. They aren't stupid; for one thing you forget is that they have minds." She said, beginning to pace.

" They're not machines to be figured with, to be handled. And so pitiful attempts and hacking into the databases and changing your Status' level wouldn't have worked from the beginning."

Zim closed his eyes. Pain rippled his body. Like a droplet of water from a leaking faucet, always hitting against the surface of the ocean. It felt like a parasite, creeping underneath his skin. Living. Remaining.

" Get up. And clean this room. Your Status has been reset to detriment. Your entitlement in this school has been recanted. Further admission to this facility and you will be dealing with death. I expect you both to return to the Counselor." She'd said, turning her back to them spitefully. Miyuki left the room, and the two were left in their wallowing. They weren't even considered people anymore...

Zim opened his eyes, and a bout of oxygen entered his lungs. It inflated his chest as he took a deep breath, and released it into a silent sigh. He had actually been holding it, his mind becoming convinced. Then again, from all the past times he fell asleep, he would always be dreaming about the past. His mind would always be convinced from the memories, for the seemed so real...No...no it wasn't a memory; a dream. Dreams where his mind wondered and stumbled upon the events of the past. Dreams were the distant realities that were created from one's own imaginations during their dormancy. Memories were substances and forms of concepts that were intangible, despite their location being inside the brain. They were the perceptions of a corporeality, and the entities of the past. However, in turn, they weren't anything. Nothing but the abstract, vague, visualizations of a signal transmitted to the brain through the nervous system, ones that could be interpreted through the dormant conscious of any mind with an intelligence.

There was a difference between the two. A dream was a dream, no matter how convincing, or breathtaking. It could never be a memory.

…

Zim would've silently chuckled at his own thoughts if his mind didn't become aware of what was playing in the background. It wasn't necessarily alarming, but it puzzled his mind. He didn't recognize what it was, and so it's ambiguity confounded him. He lifted his head off the armrest and looked back at the TV screen. Gir had been sitting close towards it. Now he was looking at his superior.

" Oh—I-I Invader-uh—Sir!" His computer stammered. The curious noises abruptly came to an end. However, the term noises wasn't exactly appropriate. Once that thought crossed his mind, a feeling came by that he might've, over the time he'd spent on this planet, learned what that sound was called. An amalgamation of sounds, more likely. Zim blinked and sat up.

" What was that?" He asked, wiping his eyes.

" I-I'm sorry, I didn't know you were awake." He said in response. He shook his head, wondering what that had to do with anything.

" It doesn't matter. What was that noise?" He asked.

"...I...It was...n't anything important." His computer said quickly. " Uh—How are you feeling?"

Zim furrowed his eyebrows slightly at his attempt to change the subject. As if he was that unaware of his surroundings. That clueless and manipulative. However he didn't like it bother him too much, it wasn't like it was anything serious.

" You make it seem as if I'm going to kill you." Zim remarked, losing interest. Or at least pretending to, as he scratched the back of his head and glanced over at Gir, who was watching him. At that moment, he had realized why his minion had been wearing his dog suit. Although, Zim had ignored the details themselves, it wasn't until now that he made conscious note about them; Gir was still injured, so to say. His indentations were still deforming his body. The impaired shoulder, his warped head shape. Why didn't Zim realize this sooner? Why did he keep asking himself these questions like he didn't know the answer to them?

Zim shook his head again. It was something that helped him get rid of thoughts.

" Gir. C'mere." He said, motioning for him to approach. At first, he straightened out when he was called. After wards, for a moment, he hesitated. He knew to disobey would only end in bad results. But last time, as he did what he was told, almost took his life. Or so he thought.

Gir walked slowly, hanging his head low, and keeping his hands in a tight, lock. Zim grabbed the suit and unzipped it from the top.

" You don't need to be wearing this."

" But..." Gir began, but paused himself. Last time, when he tried to talk back, it ended in taking his TV privileges away. He knew not to do that anymore. He silently obliged, as the green fabric began to peel off of his body, exposing a metal interior.

Zim looked at the largest dent, which was at the back of Gir's cranium. He was thankful for the thin sheet of iron Gir was manufactured of, for it would be a much easier repairing than it would be if it were any thicker. He observed the way it bent the material, and thought about the tools he would need to use in order to reform it.

" Gir, I'm going to open the lock to your head."

" What? No! please!" Gir said, frantically. He began trying to wiggle away from the hold of his superior. Zim held on tightly,

" Stop moving!" He commanded, trying to restrain his robot from moving. However under the smoothness of his gloves, Gir managed to slip under his grip and run.

" Gir! You're being an idiot!" Zim snapped, and stood up. He stopped as he entered the kitchen, and glanced back. His mind was beginning to stumble again. It always came as a reminder that Gir's mind was small, and feeble. He was having overwhelming amounts of confusion. He debated whether if he should listen or disobey; he wasn't sure anymore which option was safe.

" What use would it be if I were to kill you? And if I wanted that, I would've done so earlier." He said. " You're not that hard to destroy. You're just pieces of scrap metal and a failing mind."

Gir's eyes widened. His antennae dropped, and he stared blankly. At first, Zim thought he didn't comprehend the insult. However, his eyes formed into his sadness and he ran away, retreating back underground. Zim watched a while longer, thinking about the words he said. He pitied him. He knew that. He could recognize this feeling now, and he was beginning to hate it even more because of it. It was becoming more frequent...He was sure that was a bad thing.

Zim reclined back against the couch and sighed. It was morning. And he was hungry. He hadn't eaten anything...Frankly, he hadn't eaten anything for a few days. Not ever since he received those transmissions.

" Computer; What sort of food do I have in my refrigerator?" He asked, rubbing his hand against his eyes.

"...Um, I wouldn't know, sir. I don't eat...but I can check." Computer remarked, as an appendage exited out the interior walls and snaked through the air. It opened the fridge door, and a light spilled out.

" You still have a lot of fruit in here. Rukors, vermeene, a few orchers. And gorgus roots."

None of those sounded satiating. Zim supposed that was because his body was wanting a generous intake of sugar, judging from his considerable fast from it. Sugar was almost like health for Irkens. Their daily diet needed to be consisted of 50 % sugar mainly because it was their energy and food source. Humans didn't know how lucky they were able to retrieve such substances at a pure state. Zim remembered one time in chemistry that the sugars humans receive from sugar beets and sugar canes were crystallized, and were 99.95% Sucrose. Just the fact that they had produce specifically with sugar as the main ingredient was shocking.

If it was sugar, than it was healthy. Fructose, Glucose; Any basic formula for sugar was acceptable for Irkens. It was just unbelievable how pristine they were able to manufacture it.

" I need some vermeene." Zim said. He knew that was the fruit with the highest levels of sugars. He might was well keep an effort to maintain his own health. He wished momentarily that he had a snack. They were more delectable than most organic foods, however that also meant they had higher degrees of Sucrose. It was ironic; sucrose was the intended, more preferred substance, and was even more marketable than the others, however having anymore consumption than around 200.23 food grains, ( more than five snacks a day, in estimation ) would start to clog the veins of an Irken. The sugar was an energy source, however too much would override the enzymes of an Irken's bloodstream, and remain undissolved. And having granules stuck in your veins wasn't a good thing.

Or so was believed; the Tallest seemed to handle it well.

The appendage brought him the swarthy, elongated fruit. Zim grabbed it and peeled away the dry layer of skin.

" I've noticed you haven't been eating anything, Sir."

" That's the reason why you brought me this." He replied. He took a bite out of the light green flesh and his mouth watered. A chill passed into his squididly spooch ( or stomach ), almost as if it had been rejuvenated from hibernation. It growled, and waited in anticipation for the digestion process.

" Are you sure you won't want anything else?" Computer asked.

" I'm fine. What were you playing?" Zim asked, bringing up the subject again. He turned his eyes to the TV screen. It was weird how this interaction was; technically he was looking at the eyes of his computer. However because Zim was accustomed to looking at faces, it never failed to bring an awkward prick upon his nervous system when he spoke to almost nothing, but yet was still able to receive answers and reciprocate conversation.

" I-I...Sir, it was really—"

" If it was truly nothing, then it wouldn't be a problem for you to talk about it." Zim remarked, swallowing.

"...Yes...sir..." His computer replied, almost dismal. He was nervous, perhaps. He felt as if he would be in trouble if he were to be doing something that wasn't allowed. However Zim didn't know what it was he did, so he wouldn't be able to punish him for anything.

" What was it you were playing? Those noises." He said, taking another bite of the fruit.

"...Music, sir..."

Ah. That was what it was called. Music. Native to the Earth inhabitants only. Back at Irk, music, art, literature; None of that was available. Neither was it produced, to be quite honest. It was a society based upon increasing the population, the power and the territory. What need would anybody any form of entertainment if the sole purpose was to grow a civilization? Zim supposed it was a pretty cool adaptation for this community, figuratively, to resolve around the needs and wants upon the common well-place and it's people. However, it was such a regressive, conservative society. What progress was done? What progress for the future, for the grandiose future? If the entire development of one community relied upon whatever the commoners wanted, and not about the community as a whole and a working place, how could whatever future advancement be even considered so? At least Irk had a focal point upon abilities, amelioration of skills, and especially sovereignty of the society. Earth? Appearance, entertainment, and vanity of carnality. The points of progress were definitely opposites. It was one thing Zim didn't like about earth; it's muddled government. Giving the people what they want and more. That situation itself is set-up for deceit; The government could do anything behind the backs of the common folk, and they wouldn't even notice because of the forms of entertainment that is being brandished, merely blinding them. How untrustworthy...

" Ah..." Zim simply said, after a while. "...Music." He soon reiterated, musing in his mind. He glanced down at the fruit, and observed it. He didn't realize the peels were littered on the couch. He grabbed them and stood up.

" Yes sir."

"...What is it you find interesting about this?" Zim sighed. It would probably appear as an air of indifference, or even to the extent or probable disappointment. He placed them back into fridge; Vermeene skins were always good for the eyes. A bit of water to break them down, and some Rumork liquids to stop the process; and then there would be a great solution to any eye itchiness or irritation after letting the solution sit. Zim would need it in the future; having to wear contacts all the time wasn't fun.

"...I...I like the way it sounds." Computer said, carefully.

" You do?" Zim asked.

"...Y-yes."

Zim paused and closed the refrigerator door.

"...I want to hear it. Play it for me." He said, leaving the kitchen.

"...S-Sir?" Zim looked back at the TV screen, and sat upon the cushions of the couch. He placed his arm at the armrest. There was still a hole from yesterday from when he pinched it. He fingered it again, and felt the inside. The pressed cotton's texture wasn't very comfortable as he thought it would be.

" I want to hear it." Zim repeated. " Hopefully you understand."

" R-Right..." the Computer stammered. He knew very well that Zim wasn't actually interested in hearing it. It was more of an evaluation. A way to make a perception to how he should take to Computer's personality. And it was that fact was why he was nervous. He selected the song again, and played it.

Zim listened attentively. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening, or the specific noises that were playing, but it had a sense of continuity and flow. He wondered for a moment how each of the sounds were made, and how they were made in a way to compliment the other noises. From all Zim knew, they came from such devices called instruments. How they produced such vibrations was beyond his knowledge. But he continued listening, and his mind became puzzled at the name of the characteristics of the music.

" How do you know these noises?" Zim asked, breaking the silence of conversation. The music's volume was lowered, and he looked back up at the screen, black and unoccupied.

" um...it's called a song."

" Song?"

" Yes."

" Hmm...So it has a name." Zim spoke, thinking. " How did you find song?"

"...Song is just the title of any individual music quality, Sir. It's the general name of any music composition. It's a song; it works like a noun. Kind of like how you're an Irken, but you're actual name is Zim."

He blinked.

" Why go through so much trouble to individually name each and every song? As if it's a person?" He wondered aloud.

" Because they're each unique in their own ways. Kind of like an individual person, you know?"

"...Hmm...Then what's the name of this...song?"

" Pavane, opus. 50."

"..Hmm.."

Zim wove his fingers through his hands, and gently placed his thumbs against his lip. He pondered upon this discovery. If each song had their own names, did that mean they were equal in importance to the humans? Then again, every utility item and fruit had their own names, so it was illogical to think that. So at least that made sense.

What exactly was a song? A composition of music? And how as it so randomly generated that each sound had actually spontaneously occurred at the correct time, and added to the affect of the other sounds? Despite that others came and went? Beyond that, how did each different sound play in harmony? How did they change pitches and tones? And even add an enforced feeling upon the listener? Zim received a cold shudder of realization.

Was this the government's form of deceit? Enforcing feelings and thoughts by music? And other devices of so called entertainment?

" Stop it." He commanded.

" What?"

" I said stop it." Zim snapped. The music stopped playing. There was a moment of silence between them.

" What's wrong?" Computer asked, confused. And Zim was confused too; How did the Computer not know what was wrong? He'd done his own personal research, and assuming that he'd done some upon the government and it's policies, wouldn't he have known about it's secretive behavior? Earth wasn't like Irk; They would have seasonal proclamations about current events, The Tallest themselves appearing for speeches. If anything, their system was similar to that of an old kingdom and it's castle. And Zim only knew to make that reference because of the small length of knowledge he learned in school, about the medieval ages.

Either way, that wasn't the case, concerning his ignorance. He only shook his head, and kept a furrowed brow in pensive thought.

"...Nothing you would understand." He said lowly. A few engines started whirring; He didn't mean that as an insult, or to be offensive. It was true; it wouldn't be anything that he would know about, concerning he didn't already know it. But Zim wasn't in the mood to explain this. To try and reason with his statement and why he'd said it. Too much effort for something so little.

Zim glanced at the window. The sun was shining through.

"...It's Friday, sir."

"...I know."

"...It's past 7:30. Isn't that when your first period starts?" Computer asked. Zim kept his eyes at the glass, and sighed, out of annoyance.

" I don't have a first period." He said simply. He lied back upon the couch and rested his head against the armrest. Zim began to notice how uneventful his weekends were. Almost 90% of his time was inundated with lying upon the couch and if it wasn't that, sleeping or eating. It was only when he had school he actually did something, and even then he ditched. He felt that his days should at least contain a little more excitement and animation. At least then he could say that he'd actually accomplished something.

" Either way, Sir, It's still a school day." His computer remarked, earning an unpleasant scowl from his superior. It lasted longer than he expected.

" I went to school for 70 years of my lifetime. 70. Years. The first 12 years were wasted when I tried to make a difference in my life. Then I was expelled, and had to scratch the surface to actually make a living. After that, I enlisted in the military and was considered a fucking person for once. Going in training school for 48 years, I was promoted to Invader. And after that? Another damned school for another 10 years, Computer." Zim said.

" I think I can be allowed to make my own fucking decisions for once."

He was now tapping his fingers against his bicep. His eyes in a constant state of anger.

There was silence between the two now. Computer silently complied to his statement. There was no more to be said.

• • •

" Where were you yesterday?" Gaz began. They were walking back home, her and her brother. He didn't answer at first, he only placed his hands in his pockets, his way of awkwardly motioning that he didn't know how to answer. She didn't bring this up yesterday because Dib was holed up in his bedroom. And it would be ridiculous to try and start this conversation when she very well knew it would start an argument, especially if he was in a bad mood. There were things she could predict from his personality. Things she learned and deciphered from his behavior.

He finally chuckled nervously.

" I-uh...ditched yesterday." Dib said, rubbing the back of his head. "...Sorry, I didn't meant to leave you in the rain." He added, attempting to sugarcoat. She only shook her head.

" You? Ditching?"

" I know...I just wasn't in the mood to go to my next classes." He replied. Gaz lifted an eyebrow. It never became a thing for Dib to just decide he had the upper hand when subjects came to school. And only did now because Zim had some work to do with it. She wasn't stupid; ever since he stole those blueprints, the two of them have been garnering a hatred for each other. Not that they didn't already, but now it's being manifested.

She scoffed and repositioned the shoulder straps of her backpack.

" You just weren't in the mood? You make it seem like we have choices." Gaz remarked. Dib scratched his head.

" Yeah..."

" Does it have to do anything with Zim?" She added. She already knew it did, however she felt the conversation would flow with more fluidity if she pretended to remain ignorant. " I remember hearing on the intercom thingy that you and Zim had to go to the office. Twice, actually, on two other days."

He sighed, which came out more of an exasperated groan. It undoubtedly brought back recent events, judging by his reaction. And by the preceding silence, it showed his unwillingness to talk about the situation. And further answered her question. Although it didn't benefit her in anyway, concerning she'd already gathered the knowledge to know of it anyways, it helped with setting it in stone.

For a duration, they didn't talk. They only walked on the damp sidewalk. Even though the sun was out, the sidewalk was still damp from last night's rain. Splotches of where the side walk was vulnerable with it's porous surface were still darkened with water. It made the appearance almost moldy. The grass still had a sheen of water as well, fresh afternoon dew dripping of the blades. The cold was still present, one thing Gaz would miss when it became warm again. She sighed and glanced at her brother.

" Do you remember that one kid? The one who flicked that pea at you?" She asked, bored.

"...What about him?" He didn't sound so pleased. Gaz wondered momentarily if he was actually peeved from that.

" He says he's sorry. Or something like that." She shrugged.

There was a pause.

"...Wait—What? He's...what? How do you know this?" He asked.

" Because he told me, Sherlock. How else would I have found out?"

"...He just waltzed up to you and said sorry?"

" Well, technically I waltzed up to him, not intentional, but he said sorry."

Dib paused again. He scratched the back of his head.

"...that's...weird." He managed, chuckling after wards.

" You're telling me." Gaz replied.

They arrived at a traffic light. For a moment, she didn't recognize where they were. She looked around the vicinity, and absorbed the details for any familiar feelings or appearances. The crossroad they were currently at meant that they were at a more populous neighborhood, judging by the more amount of cars that were occupying the streets. Their neighborhood was still pretty abundant, however there weren't enough people for their to be a crossroad with a regulated traffic light.

" We must've taken a wrong turn." She said aloud, still observing her surroundings. " But I'm sure that we've been here before. It looks slightly recognizable...Yeah. We just continue walking, and then take a left. It should take us home from here." She nodded. Gaz took note to the more livelihood of this neighborhood, or say this side of the road. After a few moments of re-evaluation, she nodded again and confirmed in her mind that they would be able to make it home. She watched the cars, and how they seemingly vibrated from their engines. In the corner of her eyes, the light shined green, and she impulsively move forward. A few cars moved with her as well, but it wasn't until a few moments later that she was aware Dib wasn't beside her. She look back, already halfway across the street, and saw him staring at a paper on the light post.

" Dib!" She called. He didn't so much as move in reaction her, but his hand slowly reached up to the paper, fluttering in the small gusts of wind, and tore it from the tape that held it on the surface.

" Dib!" Gaz yelled again, and started back towards him. She hated it beyond belief when she was ignored. It was hardly frequent whenever she wanted attention from anybody. And whenever those small occurrences did happen, she would like respect to at least receive a small bit of response. Whatever was so mesmerizing about those papers was beyond her, but it shouldn't capture his entire awareness of his surroundings.

" Dib." She said, as she neared him. " The light is green." she motioned behind her, as it began it's countdown.

" Hold on, Gaz." He replied absent mindlessly, not even lifting an eye from the paper. She looked down at what he held. It seemed to be a notice about some recent children who were lost. By how he was holding it, she wasn't able to see any of the children's identities nor their names. She could barely make out what their identifiers were. Her eyes met with his face again. He was slightly pale.

" Dib, kids get lost every day. This shouldn't be a surprise." She said, shaking her head. His eyes met hers. They weren't widened, but they were filled with...terror, almost. She received a chill down her spine. It had been a while since Dib had looked at her like that. And when he did so, she knew it wasn't something trivial.

Gaz knew that there was something she didn't know. Maybe he knew those kids. She wasn't sure, but it must've been something about relationships concerning how impacting they were to him.

" Dib...Did you know them?" She asked. He gave her the paper and ran his hands down his hair. She looked down the list of kids. Two girls and three boys. All of different races, not one the same. The background of their pictures were all abstract colors, so she knew that these photos must've been their school ID's. But there wasn't anything significant about them, at least none that would bring back any sort of reminder of who they might be. It made her more curious as to how Dib would know them. She glanced back up, and he was blankly staring, his hands on his hips.

Gaz decided that to speak about this now wouldn't help. She could read his body language; he wasn't going to be talking anytime soon. So she decided that she would remember their names. Gaz looked back down at the pictures, for future reference.

Darcy Clement. Gale Herrera. Jane Nguyen. Sa'id Hassan...Nick Morin.

She squinted at the last picture.

Nick looked a little familiar. She received a few thoughts that maybe, during the time when they were getting new students, Nick might've been one of the students who was interested at first for applying, but didn't transfer to it. She wouldn't blame him. It was a few years ago, and so transferring to "Skool", one of the only schools in history that didn't have it's own name, wouldn't have been the greatest idea.

Gaz placed the paper back at the light post. It fell anyways and skid across the ground. She didn't make an effort to catch, but felt bad for doing so. The light was red now. She sighed quietly to herself, and glanced at Dib. He was still shocked.