Chapter 17: " Re-evaluation "
The two entered into their house, and dropped their belongings on the nearby floor. Dib carried his backpack to his room, opened the door and dropped it upon his bed. He couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension. This news was bad. Really bad. It wasn't something that was to take lightly. Nick was still in Zim's possession. Experimented with and possibly tortured, his life was lingering on the line. And Dib had the uneasy feeling that line was becoming thinner.
" Dad?" Gaz called, her voice carrying through dull echoes. He remembered by ingrained knowledge that his father wasn't here. He worked Thursdays and Friday's the late shift at the laboratory, and so he'd always give them a ride to school, but at the end of the day, they would walk home. Dib had avoided both days.
" He isn't here." He called, in response. He heard her footsteps leave their father's room. Dib left his own bedroom and entered into the living room, where Gaz began watching TV. He sat down on the couch beside her. Sub-consciously, he was trying to forget. He didn't realize this.
He blankly watched TV with Gaz for half an hour. Staring mindlessly at the images and people that were shown, mainly FBI agents who worked on criminal cases about a few recent murders. The content wasn't at all interesting, or so Dib couldn't find it to be. He was constantly wary of his surroundings. It was then until he realized the feeling in his gut. Worry. Anxiety. It was beginning to grow, and the hairs on the back of his neck spiked when he realized Nick's situation again. Nick was in grave danger. He could possibly be dying, if not dead already. Hidden under the depths of the earth, secretly tortured and tested with. Screams unheard...
" Dib." Gaz called, startling him. He jumped slightly, and glanced at her. A nervous chill passed down his neck and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Every second spent, was another minute of hell for Nick.
" Y-Yeah?" He replied, trying to hide his fear.
She kept her eyes on him a few moments longer before she paused the TV.
" What did Zim's blueprints have? Like, the pictures? What did they show?" She asked. Dib stared blankly at her for a few moments before he recognized what it was she was asking. He pondered this, and remembered the stupid satellites and signal wave transmissions. It was weird of her to ask this, concerning she never showed any interest further than watching him study Zim's language. But he didn't question it, for it wasn't too important to ask about.
"...It was a stupid little satellite thingy. It transmitted certain frequencies to the satellite dishes and was supposed to be transferred through all digital mediums, and deafen all of humanity and whatnot." Dib said, shaking his head, trying to convince his mind away from the subject of Nick being in captivity. Gaz glanced back at the screen and pondered what he said for a while.
"...It sounds like a souped up sonic weapon." She remarked, and pondered it for a while longer. Dib lifted an eyebrow.
"...I guess. Whatever that is." He shrugged, waving the idea. She glanced back at him with a slightly furrowed brow.
" You don't know what a sonic weapon is? Mr. Know-it-all?" She said, slightly mockingly.
" It sounds made up." Dib replied. She chuckled a bit before she repositioned on the couch to face him.
" It's a weapon for the military or police force, doofus. Of course it sounds made up. There are different names and types. Acoustic hailing device, or sound cannons. They're used to control violent mobs, or to incapacitate. Sometimes even to kill, if looking at targeted enemies of the government and whatnot." She explained. Dib kept his eyes on her for a while.
" They're not used too often, though. They're highly dangerous, and that's what makes them effective. I guess that's also why they sound made up; They're hardly ever used...Well...In this country, I don't think they're used. Not too much, at least." She said, keeping part of her mind in ponder of what she was saying.
"...Of course, the whole satellite signal thingy, about it being transmitted through radio frequencies and fusing and stuff is probably Zim's failed attempt to making one of his ideas work." She waved, discrediting.
"...So you're saying sonic weapons are real?" He asked.
" Duh." Gaz replied, shaking her head with an amused grin. She reached out her arm and pressed the button on the remote, and played the TV again. Though it passed an unnoticeable wave down in Dib. His eyes slightly widened, and his posture stiffened. She noticed this and shook her head.
" And besides. I'm sure Zim's little weapon thingy doesn't work anyway. If it did, then this TV would've killed me by now." She said casually, shifting again to where she was positioned to face the screen. Gaz rested her head against the armrest.
Though this wasn't something to be careless about. If Zim's weapon was an actual threat, than all of humanity was under danger. That prototype that Zim has been building is lethal already, if not then it was going to be, concerning it's under the management of an unpredictable sociopath and impetuous megalomaniac.
To think that I could've been the death of us all...Just because I wanted to make fun of his ideas.
It passed a horrid wave through him, and he shuddered. This was beyond shocking. It was devastating; and it was going to be a catastrophe if Dib didn't act soon. He then remembered Zim's test subject. Nick Morin. What if they weren't just tested on their emotions? What if, out of some disgusting, morbid curiosity, Zim wanted to see the affects of the sonic weapon on living test subjects? See it and...first hand experience for a taste of what to come?
Dib rushed to his bedroom. He needed to start of some plans now, or else later might be too late. He closed the door behind him by instinct, and paced inside the empty small space available. He needed to do something. He needed to act some plans out, and get them into order for execution. The problem was what? What was there that he could do? Was there anything? Sure there were, but what was needed was logical, capable plans of action. Ones that didn't involve blindly waltzing to Zim's house and trying to do whatever stupid plan he created.
He sat down at his desk and tried to arrange his thoughts, but he couldn't manage them in order because of the jarring information. It was too much to try and rush other thoughts in, and try to organize things out. His mind was too stubborn for that. He sighed and glanced at his monitor, and turned on his computer. A few minutes passed, and he remained in thought. He figured out some ideas that could work, and started upon their details.
Zim's prototype needs to come later. Right now I need to help Nick. He's in more danger than we are. He thought. His monitor turned on and it loaded his desktop.
Dib stared. After another minute, he blinked and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn't process properly, his mind almost left in shambles, trying to effectively react to the information he heard. He shook his head and began typing upon his keyboard and he opened up a few applications. He ran another few programs in the background, and activated his record drives. They ascended in a half circle around the way point of his computer, submerging from their underground capsules underneath his bedroom floor. He repaired them after the event of Zim's otherworldly zombie cyborgs invaded and trashed his bedroom.
Not only was that event so coincidentally devastating and inexplicably annoying, many hours of sleep was wasted because of it. Dib also had to debug their archives so that they wouldn't overheat from the previous and substantial damage they'd taken. Which also meant he had to upgrade and create his own cooling systems so that the engines wouldn't overwork themselves.
" Computer, run a scan with a half mile radius for any technology that identify as mine." Dib said, leaning forward and placing his elbows against his desk. He was bouncing his knee, and he kept his fingers connected in a pensive gesture. It had been a while since he last had to talk to his computer. Even if it was mainly manufactured out of default voice programming and advanced syllabic recognition of the English language, it could still provide with a conversation of some sort. Albeit monotone and vague, but a conversation nonetheless.
" 36 systems identified." It replied.
Dib was slightly appalled. It was another moment later before he realized his mistake.
"...Oh, Computer, exclude all devices that are currently underneath my household. Scan for any and all devices that are lodged elsewhere."
He then began waiting again. There was a constant feeling of being on edge that unnerved him. He was anxious, slightly. He was beginning to fear the worst.
" 0 systems located. Cause is that all or any devices outside of the Membrane household is probably damaged and or destroyed."
Dib groaned, and the knowledge passed an unsatisfying chill. How then was he to recover the video recorders contents? If it was destroyed, then there would be no data nor codes to salvage. Lingering on the subject a few moments longer, He then remembered that he actually had recovered the video files on disk for his record drives, but were also decimated the moment later. So now there was no chance of him getting anything, considering his only recording device had been destroyed, most likely because Zim had discovered it in his household.
Dib gritted his teeth and clenched his head. How in the world was he going to save Nick? It's not like he was able to waltz to his house, disable the security systems, sneak in and rescue him...
Well he could actually, but there was also the probe that was to be considered. It was lodged into his head, and judging by how he was a test experiment, he would also be wired and hooked to multiple other tracking and testing devices. So then he wouldn't even be able to do that.
Dib received a cold chill of realization. There were five kids missing on that page. Nick Morin was the only one he recognized, but...that could mean anything. He jumped out of his seat and rushed to his bed. He snatched his backpack and nearly unzipped the largest pocket until he stopped himself, when a constriction occurred in his throat. Dib didn't take the paper from Gaz again. She tried to put it back up, but it fell and was carried away from the wind.
" Dammit." Dib cursed silently to himself and placed his hands against his brow. What he needed was the date of which they were missing. If they went missing the same days and time, then that could be a clue to if they were all located in Zim's basement. Only then could that be a signal of proof where they might all be. Dib momentarily wished that Gaz had the smarts to hand it back to him so that he could keep it for future reference. He could only imagine the hell that they were suffering.
He remembered Nick's face. That large smile, larger than any normal person's smile should've been. It was an enforced feeling, he knew that much. There was a sticker for his designated emotion, placed upon the probe that stabbed into his brain. Happiness. A facade. But it worked. His face contorted in ways that could give a child torturous nightmares. His eyes widened to an extent of unbelief. Irises and pupils shrunk.
Dib willed himself to stop thinking upon that image, and closed his eyes. There was a high possibility that those kids were all victims to Zim's vicious curiosities and experimentation. That was what needed to be of priority.
Let's say that the dates were all the same. Then what? How would that give you tangible proof that they were all correlated to Zim's vile intent? Evidence is still needed. Video proof.
Dib sighed and glanced back at his computer. That was the one thing he didn't have. Proof was always the remaining detail that never factored into Dib's files of study and indictment. He could find any information to accuse Zim of the thousands of crimes he committed, however whenever authentication came into view, that information became invalid faster than Zim created good ideas for taking over earth. Despite the fact that all Dib ever said against Zim was the truth, people required more ethics. And it was the one thing that remained elusive for him.
Dib walked back to his office chair and sat down against the leather material. He pondered about what he was left with. Any option that could make his attempts at being a good person not in vain. However he spent more time than needed upon the subject, and eventually fell to defeat and chagrin.
He tapped his fingers against his desk. Dib began to feel guilty. He felt like his outreaches for good never gained him anything. And even when he wanted to do good, reality would circumstance itself in ways so that roads would curve and intersect, and paths would fog and mislead. These kids were going to die...and he was going to sit here and allow it to happen.
One last thing came to mind; he could check his emails. The word was plural because one was used for personal/school subjects and the other for the Swollen Eyeball Network. Dib sighed and lifted his head off the surface of his desk. He wasn't too sure if that would actually help anything, but it was the only think his puzzled mind could come up with. He went on the internet and entered his email into the URL. He couldn't remember the last time he'd logged on to the Swollen Eyeball Network website. It must've been a little over half a year, considering he forgot almost everything about his association with it. He had a few unread notifications.
Dib checked his inbox and he had 9 emails from the Swollen Eyeball Network. Emails about investigations he was hired to do. Ones he didn't see. He sighed to himself, and spent a few moments in thought about how he was going to explain his absence in response to these appointed investigations. Though in one subject line, it only contained numbers, which wasn't the usual preferred case of communication for his colleagues and directors.
It was a data file.
Dib's eyes widened and he opened it. Video log. Retrieved from the video recorder #2345. At that moment he remembered that he arranged all of his devices and systems to email any data formats to his email address as soon as it retrieved them. He took a few moments to ponder the number identifier. And from what he could remember, it was that of the video recorder placed inside Zim's house. But how? His computer just assumed all other systems that were his destroyed.
He thought for a few moments on this. The cyborgs destroyed his record drives...but they left his video recorder untouched. But even then, his video camera was still destroyed, or else his computer would've picked up it's signals and location. Then again...this video might've been the contents it sent to his email before it was destroyed. It continued recording after wards when he disengaged it from live stream, when he was spying on Zim! He clicked on the file and opened the video. It showed Zim, slumped on his kitchen chair with a plate of waffles on the side of the table. He presumed that he had just gotten done throwing up.
On the inside, Dib's blood accelerated a thousand degrees higher, and excitement ran through his veins, running through his body like a marathon.
He grinned a large smile.
Bingo.
• • •
Zim had been lying upon his couch for the longest time now. He'd fallen asleep a few hours ago and woke up the next hour later. He didn't mind so much as how he would rest on his off days, albeit this was a Friday, but he couldn't exactly be appreciative over his new found habit of sleeping. It was beginning to feel like a necessity, one of which shouldn't have been on in the first place. Zim would, after a long day, become tired, and his eyes would droop. Even though his body technically didn't need sleep, and neither did it hurt for him to do so, he didn't like the thought of his body becoming accustomed to the dormancy, and he was even afraid that it could possibly even become addicting. Humans seemed to do it every single day of their lives. particularly in the night, which Zim used to take advantage and do more of his hefty research in his underground base, but now he was wasting his time, allowing himself to be subject to his weariness over and over. And even some days he was convinced it wasn't a healthy habit, because he would wake up with groggy and lethargic.
Zim sighed to himself, and rubbed his eyes. It was true that he did wish for more animation in his life. More movement and events. For him to actually do something, other than relying on school to provide with something to do. But at the same time, he didn't want to do anything, at least, not while occupying Earth. He didn't know what it was that he could do here without being looked upon as suspicious or weird. There were a lot of things he was allowed to do in public back at Irk, but he knew it would be illogical to try and correlate those ideas here.
Nevertheless, the urge to stretch his muscles, and to expatiate the energy stored in his body was enticing. Everyday, if he hadn't done any sort of moderate form of exercise, it would almost mold into a sense of an itch. And keeping himself here, holed up in his small house, reclined on the couch 24/7, didn't help at all with reducing the desire.
Zim sat up and stretched out his arms. Soon he stood up and began stretching out his legs. He wasn't in the mood to fall asleep again, for the third time in the day. Instead, taking action would be his decision. He applied on his contact lenses, and grabbed his wig from the counter top on the table. He placed it upon his head, and it fell in formation to his cranium. Although it was fake, it could be considered comfortable. It kept his head warm, and he hated to admit it, but he liked how it did that. He walked towards the door and grabbed the door knob.
" To where you might be going, Sir?" Computer asked. Zim paused. He pondered his question, and even let it echo in his head. Mainly because he didn't have an answer to think about. Because for once, he didn't want a definition to what it was he was going to do, or where he was going. With the small bit of exhilaration, he just wanted it to be why he wanted to go.
"...Wherever I feel like, I suppose." He answered. He left the house. In the moment, he also felt like he was departing from secrecy. Safety. He was walking in to the world of eyes, and where privacy belonged to none but those who stole it. A world of untruths and unbroken secrets. Leaving sanctuary, for the world of sin.
Zim drew out a long sigh, one that was refilled with small tidbits of worry and nervousness. It was a hard motive for him to leave his house on his own volition, knowing he was going to be in public. Of course, he had his disguise. But usually he felt like that wasn't enough, of which it was true. People could see through him like glass. Well, Dib could. But anyone just as well could do it as easily as he does. One thing Zim hated to admit was that Dib was intelligent. That was why he was his enemy, because nobody else owned the mind to notice that there was an extraterrestrial being living in their country. Perhaps there were more, but that was to come in the future.
Zim continued walking. It was night. He had spent his entire day inside the house. At least when it was night, people were inside their homes, asleep. Or simply just inside their houses. At least then he could find some peace in his walk, being in solitude. He walked wherever it felt right to turn, and didn't walk wherever he didn't feel like going. He prolonged it that way, but he made sure he could trace back where his house would be, not wanting another incident of being stuck in the city. His body shivered in the cold breezes that passed by, that whispered in his ears. But he wasn't cold, it was more of just his body preparing to heat up, and the small exhilaration making it's way around his system.
Zim could say that he enjoyed this. The silence. The cold. The walk itself. In doing so, he figured that he would do this more often. It helped him in some way he couldn't describe, but...It was enlightening. Calming. Something he hadn't been able to experience before. It allowed him to think, and to daydream. It allowed access into bounded areas of which his mind hadn't progressed through before. He remembered that when he'd left his test subjects, he wanted to find this feeling. He wanted release. Ease. Peace of mind. Maybe this was what he would need to do from now on. Whenever things became overwhelming, like how they have been so recently. Talk a walk in the night. It wasn't a bad idea. And...for once, Zim actually liked the thought.
• • •
It had been a few hours since Invader Zim had left. Computer remained in surveillance, watching over the house and outside as far as the camera could see, to see if he would be making his way back home. He wasn't too sure what it was that possessed him to leave, but he didn't question it. He thought it was a good thing he was wanting some time alone. Time to think and to reflect was always a good thing.
Computer switched the surveillance to the underground base. He decided to look for Gir. He had vision over every room, and unlike organic beings, which their eyes adjusted to focus upon a focal point with limited eyesight, and all the others in view reduced to peripherals, he could manage to view upon all cameras at once, and absorb the information accordingly with the same attention. That was one thing he liked about being a machine. However he also wished he had movement. Mobility. How it was like to be interactive with physical contact and social flexibility. Zim was a good person to talk to, however the talks weren't what he could consider pleasantry.
The subjects consisted of the downed idea in arguments about how pathetic he was, and how useless he was to Zim's mission. If that wasn't the case, then it was small conversations about Zim questioning him. As if everything he did was intentionally to annoy or confuse his superior. Computer respected him, he truly did. But after a while of being looked upon as an idiot, being accused for doing the things he did, or the things he didn't mean to, and being interrogated of why he liked the things he did was demeaning.
It seemed like that was all Zim was good at. Questioning the nature of subjects he didn't approve of. Asserting jurisdiction over all, and being belligerent over the qualities he claimed the Computer didn't have. Qualities which he owned himself, and of which he was prideful of.
Being assertive. Aggressive. Hostile. And if in a better mood? Derogatory. Morbidly biting and haughty. He could go own with words, but to define the personality of his superior would only cast things into stone. And he was afraid it would also cast a founded dislike into stone as well.
Computer checked the laboratories. He viewed the test subjects and rotated the camera to see the plants as well. He removed a panel from the wall, and allowed one of his appendages to escape. He gave them seeds, and watered their soils with a mixture of sugars and vitamins. Zim usually allowed the plants to be handled by Computer, because he didn't like the thought of using water. It made sense, but he wished that Invader Zim would be a little more courageous to these type of things.
Computer then turned his attention to the humans. He watched them undergo the processes of their brains become liquified from the constant shock of electricity. He watched them, and just like Zim had, absorbed their details. His feelings weren't as instant as other beings, but they were just as effective. He felt it crawl through his system, because that was the feeling generated through his engines. Zim didn't know, but in order for there to be emotions, there needed to be a conscious. And for there to be a conscious, a mind. And despite the brilliant minds behind the Irken technology, they couldn't generate a mind from inorganic materials.
So they made their systems, at least those with personalities and thoughts, from Irkens. They used their minds. Computer was technically the name of the Irken he was possessing. Although his body was no longer tangible, being destroyed eons ago, his mind, and brain was still being used. Computer still remembered the last name he had before he allowed himself to be transfigured into a computer. And because it was a system, a Computer system that was of possession of the mind, and not the PAK device, he was allowed free will. He was allowed emotions. And he felt guilty, because he was allowing these processes to happen to these innocent children. In comparison, his own mind and conscious was more stable upon the foundation than theirs were. Children who were born with ingrained innocence and thoughts. Children who had families. Who were loved. Now that they were here, inside the underground base, and now that Zim was gone...He had to do something. If Zim wasn't willing to...then...he was going to take that in place.
Computer changed views to a camera more close to the humans, more directly in front of them. He set his view upon the small monitor system that was outside of his control. He allowed another appendage to leave the shell of the wall and he began accessing the data upon the small screen. He deactivated the Automated System Regulator. And the charges took a toll down in magnitude, and allowed them their limited thoughts once again. It was awkward at first, they were talking amongst themselves, out of their emotion. Sometimes they would gain the capability of expressing more than one, as he had known before.
Computer had done this before. Allowed them to speak to one another. They knew of his presence, but he was strictly forbidden of any sort of interaction, other than if he were to do more tests in Zim's place. But now he wasn't going to experiment on them anymore. For once...Even though every twisting gear in his grand, humongous frame, convinced him otherwise...he was going to break a few rules. He was going to decide for his own when it came to them. Zim wasn't going to like it, he knew. But that was going to be a necessary.
He needed to say something. Something to get their attention. They knew it was him who awoke them, but they began awaiting for him to begin the experimentation. But he was here for something different. Something new. That was what he needed. An expression for starting. A greeting. A word for beginnings. The camera he was using as vision extended, and lowered to their level. He never told anyone he could do this but them. They watched with intent, as it had been so rare that he did this.
"...Hello Gale. Nick. Darcy. Jane, and Sa'id." He began. They kept their pale, but expressionistic eyes on him. He wasn't sure if this was excitement running through him, or fear.
" How are you doing today?"