Chapter 19: " Being Normal "

The smeet kept his gaze at the back of the one who he shadowed. He was of a much taller stature, and he walked with a consistency that echoed his methodical precision. His rigid state allowed his formal and intimidating look, and the smeet aspired to be able to have such a compelling semblance just by the mere stride of his movements. He analyzed the details of his garments, and took a liking towards his light, thick robe that lapsed over his legs, and the plated armor, placed and adorned around his upper torso, some that even appeared as large shards against the curve of his shoulders. The smeet didn't think that the armor he wore wasn't for protective reasons, along with his robe, but it was a bestowed upon him out of honor and diligence. There was most likely a suit he had on underneath that would be appropriate for battle.

It was a pristine white material that reflected off light, and he felt honored to be lead by the Tallest himself. He wondered temporarily where he would arrive; if it were to be another arena where he would combat another smeet, or demonstrate his accuracy and precision with inch long targets, and only equipped with a standard, 1st generation ray gun. He'd been trained to use such inferior weapons, so that he could efficiently advance in more developed ones. It was a fun process; Or so he thought.

The smeet tried to replicate the movements of who he followed; he wished he could offer a title or name, however his alias had slipped his mind. It always did, because he was never officially addressed or introduced to the small Irkens in training. He was embarrassed to admit it, but he was reassured that it wouldn't be held against him. Soon, tracking in the dark hallways that held the same disposition of tunnels, they had approached a door. He could only tell by the stripes of light that were on it's surface, perpendicular to the other lights on the wall. The large Irken turned, and looked over his shoulder. His brown eyes, glinting in the darkness, supported only be the purple beams of light in the hallways, looked down to him.

" You ready?" He said, his voice light, and welcoming. The smeet nodded at him, and excitement ran though his veins. Whatever it was he had to do, he knew he could make him proud again. From his height, he couldn't see a direct facial expression, however he saw the muscles stretch in his cheeks, and knew there was one of his endemic grins. The smeet grinned widely in response. This was only between them.

It was in that moment, when the door opened and a blinding light spilled through, that he was able to recall his name. He lifted his arm in the way, and followed inside.

• • •

There was a reoccurring pattern that was demonstrated in Zim's disappearances. He'd temporarily stray himself from publicity until he felt comfortable again to reappear and act as if nothing had happened, like an author suffering through temporal hiatus due to a severe writer's block. Of course, there was the central, veiled reasoning behind why he departed briefly in the first place, which Dib was able to deduce quietly to himself. It wasn't any surprise that he was gone today either; just more of an unexpected occurrence. It had been so re-occurring that Dib was actually more surprised Zim had come to school for the weeks he did, rather than just hole himself in the safety of his own home. However, he was an unpredictable character. A lot of things went inside the void of his mind, and many things went wrong as well.

Dib wasn't all too annoyed about it. Annoyed wasn't really the word to use for description, or so...not for himself; It was Mr. Everett that was annoyed. She'd taken the event of his ditching a little too personal, and rather seriously. As they waited for his arrival, they sat in the empty room and remained quiet. It wasn't until a few minutes later that they started receiving thoughts they were waiting in vain. After a while, she checked her watch and asked Dib if he had any idea about his whereabouts. He replied with a no. He didn't know why she would expect him to know about his location, as if he kept a collar and leash. Later, she'd asked Ms. Durham to see if he was absent, and it was an unexcused one. One too familiar and frequent to be just a mistake.

It was then that Mrs. Everett returned to the room, asked for his departure, and bid him a good day. However, she restrained her voice from emotion, and endeavored to keep her composure. She was angry, and it was visible. Dib listened without any words of complication, and ventured out of the office. He continued to class. He wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Though as the day advanced, and the further he thought about it, the more his mind centered around the subject with interest. It wasn't food for thought, however it kept his mind from becoming bored of itself, as he pondered about the whereabouts of this...rival/unimportant person. The location of him was an aspect, however Dib liked to create scenarios as to why he was gone. Like if he had encountered some issues with the authorities because the video that was forwarded to the Swollen Eyeball had been published for public consumption. And so now Zim was deemed a threat and was a wanted criminal, and was now planning an escape to try and evade the police and other national guards, and return home to his ugly planet...Things like that.

In a weird kind of way, it helped kept his mind from reaching the lingering dome of boredom, as he continued to lightly delight himself in silly imaginings about this rival/unimportant person. Dib wasn't sure how it did, but it managed, and that was all that mattered.

When school ended, Dib returned home with his sister, and joined her in the silent walk that they religiously partook in everyday after school. At the beginning of the year, they used to ride the bus, but their father wasn't too inclined to pay for the fees if they were a walking distance away from their home. It made sense, and Dib didn't mind it too much; only when the weather was coincidentally bad, he found a bit of displeasure in their walks. But overall, it allowed him to think clearly, and free his mind of any prior stress that might've occurred in the earlier hours. It also allowed him to sink within the depths of his imagination, and daydream temporarily before they would arrive home and do homework, or other carnal things, like watch TV.

Dib opened the door to their home, and they entered inside the house. It was slightly dark, as there were no lights on. Their houses were just one of those happenstance- situated homes that became darker earlier before it became darker in the world outside. Their father greeted them, and then retreated back downstairs in his lab. They set down their things, removed their shoes and remained to themselves as they did their personal activities. Dib did his homework, fiddled upon his computer for a few hours, watched TV, played a few games and ate dinner. After wards, it was back to his computer, and soon, bedtime.

The following days were quite identical. In ways and situations that were self-explanatory. He would wake up in the morning, and get dressed. When they left, they would arrive to school around 7 minutes later. Then, school would start, and they would have to live throughout the entire day, hoping that the next passing second was just an ounce closer to be released. Lunch came, and went, and Dib was again allowed to leave the office because of Zim's absence. He would then further on to the next classes, and his mind came and went as he lingered through the time. Then, school would come to an end, they would exit the building and return home, in a silent walk. And the rest of the day was spent in hours of wasting breath and precious life, in wager for being able to watch TV, and do other equally non-essential activities, like going on the computer and staying inside, sitting. Waiting. Watching and hopelessly living.

It was slightly bothering to think that, for Dib. Because he knew he wasn't enjoying himself whenever he realized the monotony and the absolute drawl of the time that was passing by. He spent more time in his mind then he did in the figurative real world. Not that the action itself was a particular bad thing, however it was the fact that he found his own imagination enthusiastically entertaining rather than actual living and breathing in the world he was born in was what was bad. It was bad that he couldn't find any sense of delight and gratification in knowing he'd done something of worth in his days. He'd dispute in his mind about how much he hated the idea of having to go to school, but yet he never realized that it was because of school, he had something of worth to do in the days. It was because of school, he actually did something. When left to his own devices, he would only sit, go on his computer, and waste his brain away amongst other things that had no commonly matter or intrinsic value.

His brain would rot away before it became an age similarly close to 30 if he didn't do anything. It came back to the idea that the people of the world were depending upon the devices that were adhered to their hands, or their minds, for their sole entertainment, and enjoyment. Spending a life worth of time upon such deliberate and fallible objects that seemingly stole their breath. Electronics that shouldn't hold the value that they do now, are being used more than half of the entire day of every one individual. Dib never noticed, but it was because of greed that people lived this way. Greed that people owned and will forever have. Mainly because simply living was boring. Where just surviving in a world already situated for your comfort was nonetheless mundane and complete disinterest. Dib was bored of living.

It was in that moment, Dib finally blinked. He was in his bedroom. The lights were off, and his alarm clock shone a bright green time capture of 1:14 am. He hadn't been dreaming. In a funny sense, he actually was, however not as in the way that normally occurs at night.

He lifted off his mattress and stretched. The days were passing like blurs and moments that weren't to be accounted for. They were containing such identical monotony and continuity that he almost forgot about his place. It was Friday. He would be overjoyed in his youths when it were the weekend. And he was particular happy that he wouldn't have to wake up so early for school, however the upcoming expanse of time he would spend in was something he wasn't happy about. He was afraid it would just be like the past three days, where it would be nominated only for it's unbelievable reality of being so overpoweringly numbing and lifeless.

Dib rubbed his eyes, and groped the desk for his glasses. He felt a string of dread run through his body, possibly from his lethargy. He grabbed the thin pair and placed them upon his nose bridge. Considering the darkness, it wasn't too helpful for his vision. He stood to his feet and walked out of his room. It was the feeling and shape of his floor that reminded him he'd installed pockets into the floorboards that kept his hard drives. And possible other devices he'd used way before when his interest in the paranormal thrived healthily within him.

He left the room and entered into the living room, where it was all still and silent. His weight creaked the floor underneath him, and he entered the kitchen where the cold tiles tingled the nerves of his bare feet. He wasn't sure why, but he was thirsty. Dib turned on the light and momentarily closed his eyes from the jarring light. He approached the cupboards and grabbed a ceramic cup. He filled it with water and drank it all in a few swigs. He re-filled it and drank again. It was when he filled it another time he walked towards the kitchen table, and sat down at the wooden chairs. He set the cup upon the surface, close to him.

There was no particular reason for him to be up, and to be sitting at the table like he was. However, there was no reason for him to sleep. He wasn't physically tired, and so it didn't bother him to be awake. When he almost began daydreaming, he stopped himself. Dib looked around his surroundings and tried to look for something...different. He knew he wasn't going to find anything, but it was the action itself was what he was doing it for. Just doing something that didn't revolve around his mind or meaningless electronics was good enough.

However, despite how much he didn't want to admit...he was bored. He sighed to himself and finally took the cup in his hands. He assimilated the simplistic design of it, and held the cylindrical mold in his hands, processing the cold surface that touched his nerves. It must've taken a skilled potter to be able to create such an exquisite design. Albeit it held no particular worth as in eye attracting value, it held a significance because it was so symmetrical and seemingly perfect. And just for the fact that someone was able to create something so crucial for population consumption, but yet hold such little to no value was why it was so important. It was things like this that Dib remembered he took for granted. Having cups and a running water system was normally a given in nowaday's standards, however in other parts of the world it wasn't as normal and natural as it should be.

Dib tried not to think about it. It would normally depress him a little bit to ponder about the third world countries. And he wasn't in the mood to feel any worse than he did now. He finally drank the water. He allowed himself to take small gulps, instead of guzzling it without any sense of patience, and without any enjoyment of savoring the taste and feeling of quenching.

Dib placed the cup down, and looked upon the now empty structure. In sequence, he realized something that brought a wave of opposition.

Zim came to earth to do whatever. And even prior to his actual arrival, Dib knew about his forthcoming approach, as he'd created and monitored his own satellite signals. If his frequencies, or his data wasn't advanced enough to pick up anything, he'd use the Swollen Eyeball's Corporate Aerospace Industries' technology to get better readings and data retrieval. It'd been a while since Dib, at that time, had checked his own personal adaption of his satellite system, and when he checked, his signals caught on to an unidentified ship and unnamed frequencies immediately. The reason why the Swollen Eyeball hadn't yet picked up Zim's approach was because the company was facing indictments of Illegal usage of unwarranted satellite systems, and were nearing towards court summons and accusal for breaching the copyright laws on patented technology, borrowing designs and productions from NASA.

When Zim arrived, Dib started his own figurative campaign to eradicate all and any threats that were established by the intruder. Whenever Zim attacked, Dib attacked back. Whenever Zim created machines or robots to destroy the city, Dib would create a malfunctioning chip that had countless viruses and implant his creations with overriding corrupted data, ultimately destroying the wire-works of his machinery.

When Zim did anything, Dib did everything to kill it right in it's tracks. In other words; The whole entire time, for the past year ( two years?) that Zim had been here, Dib was there, working hard every and each hour to keep humanity safe, whether it was producing massive machines, researching intensely and calculating, or plotting against Zim while he tracked into his security—anything. But in sequence; He had fun. It occupied his time to research every second of the day, to insult Zim and to stop his plans before they were completed. He enjoyed the seconds of staying up late, and creating devices and structures just for trivial usage of getting even from a previous, immature attack. Despite that they both nearly destroyed the town itself, Dib was able to do things and remain happy, in a weird-probably-nonsensical fashion.

It was because of Zim, that Dib did anything in his life. It was because of Zim, that Dib had fun and excitement.

It was why he was now bored and dead out of his skull. Because he was resulting back to a life, filled with meaningless vanity and boundless tedium that degraded the whole idea of living and enjoying. He was branching off his customs and his enjoyment, to enter a life of complete ennui, and situated banality which everyone seemed to be so accustomed to. A state of which false ideologies of pleasure was committed into the daily lives of the people, where their recreational habits were being put to the side, and they embraced platitude; finding new ways to celebrate the newest device, which only hollowed out the minds of the populace even more.

Dib would find himself, pondering about Zim's presence, or why Zim hadn't done anything yet. He only thought so because he was wanting to protect the population, and so he was slightly paranoid, and rightfully so. But on the inside; he was waiting. He was waiting and anticipating with a silenced hope that Zim would create another gigantic robot to destroy the city, or that he would create a harmful disease and infect the population. That way, there would be reaction. They would be motion, and plans of operation. Animation, and functionality; with energy flowing through his veins.

And most of all; Liveliness.

It didn't matter if the people know about Zim's evil intent; For Dib, just simply knowing that he saved them, and that he accomplished to find a cure: It was enough. If Dib was able to feel the rush, and then a gratifying sigh of accomplishment: He felt fulfilled. He felt alive.

He stared at his cup. He regulated his breathing, and mentally absorbed the details of the common tool. He fixed the position of his glasses, and continued gazing at the composition and balance of this piece.

Dib didn't know how to feel about this. What he'd just found out...it was...bizarre, however it felt true. That he would have some underlying sense of rush, that would eventually lead to a slight wanting to the spiking of his nerves and the adrenaline that he felt, when he knew about the dire situations at hand, and the tempestuous risk.

At the same time, he felt perplexed. It seemed weird when thought about; that he would receive excitement from the presence of his enemy...Dib felt his body prepare for a shudder. He was certain that Zim wasn't the founder of his ability to have fun, much less any sense of positive energy; however it was the fight he brought with him was what Dib appreciated. Zim was capable, if he wasn't stumbling over his own mind of ego and stupidity, to be a capable and formidable enemy...At times.

It was in that case that Dib prepared accordingly and fought back against him. It was the success and the process that brought him excitement; not Zim himself.

Dib combed his fingers through his hair and ruffled his extreme hairdo. He fiddled around with the outlandish tail-like extension, and sighed to himself. He stood up from the table and placed the cup into the sink. He turned off the light as he left the room.

He still wasn't sure how to feel about this.

• • •

Over the day, Dib left the house, but didn't share to anyone where it was he was going. He simply said he was going out, and was going to be back in an hour or two. Gaz wondered curiously about his choice of actions. Judging by background knowledge, Dib only ever left the house, especially over the weekends, to break in to Zim's house, or to stop him from completing certain acts that would endanger the community. Generally; the object of him leaving was most frequently because of Zim.

However, Gaz didn't share her thoughts. She only grunted in response, and he left without another word. She normally didn't question his actions, as she would normally be apathetic about his choices. However, he'd been acting differently lately, and she wasn't entirely sure why. Saying he was more anti-social wasn't valid, because he was always that way. Though he was more solemn, and pensive; possibly even bothered or disturbed. His slight facial expressions of perturbation gave off these implications. Gaz wasn't stupid; She knew it had something to do with the missing kids on the poster; no doubt about it. However, she didn't know why those particular kids bothered him. It came back to the reasoning that he might've known them, however at the same time, Dib didn't make much friends. If anything, he never had any. Or so none that she could remember.

Gaz blinked, and her mind wrapped around the object at hand. She remembered she was drawing, and her eyes adjusted the information from her mind to her sketch. As she analyzed the gross details and the deformation, she groaned and tapped her fingers impatiently. A small itch grew that aggravatingly needed sufficing; She wanted to erase it all, and start over. However, Ms. Zoe had no choice but to fail her for turning in nothing but smudged, and torn paper from her last assignments. She also advised she shouldn't stress over errors. As an artist, with an acute eye for detail, one would always see errors, even if they were a virtuosic illustrator.

Ms. Zoe also deemed it a good thing she saw mistakes; she said it made her a natural drawer. Gaz couldn't agree with that statement, for obvious reasons. She sighed, and with dissatisfaction, closed her sketch book, and placed it on top of the coffee table.

Footsteps could be heard from a lower level, and Gaz knew it was her father ascending up the stairs. She heard him approach to the couch, once he reached the level.

" Oh. Hello, Gaz." Professor Membrane greeted, detached. She looked up at her father. She replied, " Hey Dad."

A few moments passed by, and her father looked around the room. His gloved hands were currently stained with a black oil, and his lab coat was smeared with the same substance. He smelled of rust and gasoline, a mixture which proved deadly for the nose. She wiped the bottom of her nostrils.

" What are you working on?" She asked, knowing that the only technology he worked on was with digital electronics, and never oil machinery. He glanced at his daughter, and for a moment remained still as he thought about her question. His goggles appeared slightly transparent; she could only slightly make out his eyes.

" Oh." He sounded, as if out of realization. " I was trying to strip my tools of rust, and the oils I was using wasn't penetrating the immobilized parts. Remember when it rained?" He asked. She nodded.

" My project was outside at the time, as I was aiming for it to cool down, and to fumigate because...well...Do you know that I manufacture my own alloys?" He said, shifting on his hip. Gaz shook her head; however it was interesting to know about it.

" Well, I do. And I have to...you know, fuse metals and then let them cure. After wards, I ply them and use them for my needs and because of the certain materials I use, I have to allow ventilation in my laboratory, and usually that doesn't operate fully as I wish it did and...well..." The Professor trailed off, and stopped talking. His head slowly turned, as his full attention finally settled upon upon his daughter. He sighed quietly to himself.

" I'm sorry...You're...probably not even listening—"

" No, no, It's..." She paused. She didn't say anything more, and they remained in silence. His hands were still held up, his elbows near his waists, and his eyes lowered to the ground in thought. Gaz looked down at her sketch pad and sighed to herself.

He tilted his head and took a few steps near to the hallway, to get a better look at his son's open bedroom door.

" Where's Dib? He'll understand what I need. " He asked. The last section of his sentence was a pronounced thought, one that wasn't meant to be audible; Gaz knew that. She tried not to allow it passage through her, and she shrugged her shoulders.

" He went out. He didn't tell me where." She informed, scratching at the couch. It was a while before she heard him move from his position, the flood boards creaking underneath his boots as he walked. He sigh passed through his nostrils " Mmkay." Left his mouth, before he escaped back to his underground lab.

Gaz felt a twinge. She knew why, however she would feel betrayed if she allowed entitlement. Her eyebrows furrowed and she grabbed at her pencil. Before she realized it, she was squeezing it in a fist.

She snatched the sketchbook, and opened it to a blank page. She began drawing. She heard an almost amused voice.

You're cracking.

Gaz shut her eyes.