Chapter 22: " I Realize "

The small Irken was confused. Granted he should be so, all of the ideas of what he was coalescing in his mind about what it is he was here for all turned to nought, as he saw the Soldiers bring in another Irken. What was the importance of this? Why was it brought here in the auditorium? And why was he shirtless? It was never generally approved for anybody to be unclothed in any sort of manner. Revealing yourself bare in any situation, no matter the member of your body, was considerably crude. In any case, it was treated as it was sightly unpleasant.

The smeet shifted uncomfortably in his seat, as the Soldiers configured around with the material they brought upon the stage. Seeing the man's bare torso made him finger the synthetics of his own clothes and was made conscious of his light armor, momentarily savoring how he had the luxury to cover his body. Despite his slight confusion to the circumstance, he knew not to question or speak his mind aloud. He'd taken the hint and at least that much he knew; his reaction wouldn't be taken appreciatively if made verbal and an unnecessary display, and would further on be ignored. His state of confusion was circumstantially unavoidable, and possibly even expected by them.

So the smeet continued to watch them. He watched as they tightened the electric ray bands on the man's wrists and pressed a few buttons and switches on the heavy machinery. Watched them activate the generator and register with an opening of bright lights. The shirtless man jumped slightly, at the sound of it's activation.

The smeet then realized the man's countenance, and behavior. He was shaking, profusely. His muscles trembled, and his wrists rattled in his cuffs. His chest heaved and collapsed, and his breathing had only increased when the machinery was turned on. At a distance, he saw something in his eyes. There was the prominent possession of fear. No...Terror. His brown eyes looked at the Soldiers and the generator with caution, and he was heavily distressed. A shiny sheen of sweat was on his forehead... Agitated, afraid...

What was happening?

The Soldiers continued working on their business, as they figured around a little more with the machinery. Then, they opened a compartment that was located near the bottom middle of the generator, and dragged out thick, metallic cords and cables. At that moment, the man finally looked at the small Irken, and Zim froze, feeling all blood rush to his face. His nerves spiked, and he sat paralyzed under his scrutiny. The smeet didn't know how to react. Being so disengaged from their presence, he nearly forgot that he was occupying the same room with them, and that his existence was known; the event was so unrecognizable.

The man blinked, and he had an amalgamation of emotions running through him. His gaze had a depth that was nearly shocking. It carried an almost corporeal weight, that the smeet was nearly certain he felt a pressure against his face. Under his eyes, he communicated something. Under the gaze, he spoke. His actions forebode the small irken of an event unimaginable. He warned him that something was going to happen...Something that would change him, forever.

For another moment, the man stared. And when the Soldiers were done pulling the cables out, and were done preparing the machine, he turned his head away. Zim momentarily didn't recognize his own confusion, he was so bewildered beyond his comprehension. He had to blink, and swallow a lump in his throat to remember again that this was actually happening. This was real...But that was what confused him.

There was nothing that abnormal about this. But yet he felt his own agitation, and nervousness reaching heights as it progressed. Maybe it was because it was different. Maybe because he didn't understand...either way, he wasn't allowed to show fear. Being afraid isn't optional, Zim repeated in his mind.

The smeet looked back up, as he realized his gaze was slowly falling to his lap. They began fastening the cables to the man's PAK device.

The man was crying now.

• • •

Gaz remained silent for a while. She wouldn't talk to anyone, and she wouldn't even have any oral sense of reaction when spoken to. It wasn't as if that was out of the ordinary, however she knew that there was a difference in the aura that emanated from her; the atmosphere she carried. No longer did Dib try to approach her with the normal, newly ordained conversations that they would have recently, as it was always met with a silent backlash of glaring or sometimes quiet dejection. It wasn't something she could help, either. It was an inevitable situation that occurred with leisure, and wouldn't have any foreseeable end. Gaz would stay pensive, and whether it was she was angry or sad was entirely dependent on how she felt on the subject.

There would be days that were better, and then those days that were...needing to be better. Normally, she would just be...well, normal; receiving things with no particular emotional output or thought, and showing apathy to those who annoyed her. However...now she would fume quietly to herself, and remain a silent isolation for her own sake of living in her annoyance. Any attempt at social interaction from the others would only earn them glares, which contained the deadly thoughts of her wanting to execute hostility to them. Which in all honesty wasn't that bad, as they only lived through the awkwardness of her twitching eyebrow and incessant stare.

However, soon thereafter, there were days that she felt physical pain. Where she would all of the sudden feel the misery of a thousand burdens and be expected to hold them with compactness. Gaz would mope in her mind of how much she hated some certain aspect that she...felt liked directing malaise-filled-hate to. And if nothing seemed to upset her directly, if excluding the horrible cramps she was receiving, she would be solemn, feel the sickness of absolute loneliness, feel dejected, etc.

After a while, she willed herself to talk to her counselor about it, and got surprising news. She reasoned to her that it was the menstrual cycle taking effect. Her counselor informed it was perfectly normal, and that it was just her body maturing. She was becoming a lady, as she put it. Gaz just nodded, still slightly concerned. She wondered curiously why the bleeding was normal, though. However when she voiced this, she got a picture of the female anatomy and a very thorough, and disturbing description of personal sex ed and what it is that happens during the menstrual cycle. Gaz wouldn't ever forget the way how much she cringed when she pronounced certain words.

When she left the office, she continued on to class but with a feeling like she was being quarantined. After gaining the knowledge, she felt that she was the only one who hadn't known about it at the time. As if she was left to be ignorant and alone, and once she finally experienced the change, she was left to be embarrassed and alone. Like if it was some plotted scheme to beleaguer her. Later on, she omitted the thought from mind, and continued on with her day.

She remembered when the first unexpected experience came; she was absolutely horrified. Gaz didn't tell anyone because her main thoughts concluded to that either A; she was dying. B; She was infected by some horrible bacterial disease that caused her insides to systematically dissolve ever so slowly, a.k.a dying, and C: It would pass away in any given time. And for a while, it did and she was relieved. When it made it's re-appearance was when she began to worry. Telling her family would be beyond the sense of mortification, however she didn't know whether this situation was dire or something else entirely. So she endured through it until she garnered the courage to tell the counselor.

Gaz noticed that the reason why she didn't know anything about her menstruation was that she lived solely with male family relatives. People who didn't have direct experience in the areas of female puberty, and so in turn couldn't console her with the same support and comfort that a mother would be able to. She was actually glad that she didn't learn it from her dad; God knows how awkward and nearly shaming that would've been. Without a doubt, she wouldn't ever approach it with her brother. However, one thing she did like to poke fun at was the acne that was appearing on his face. It wasn't a large amount, contrary to the other boys at school who'd have their entire face covered, however she liked to call him Rosie D every now and then and make some witty references to the poem starter of roses are red and violets are blue.

At the same time, Gaz also noticed something that ordinarily wouldn't come as important enough to cross her mind; It had been around a few months. And Zim was still no where to be found. She thought curiously that maybe Dib scared him off for good by whatever measure of tactics that were created from the monstrous head of her brother. Or maybe he was just holing himself away to keep a distance from human interaction and live primarily on the basis of repudiation and megalomania. Whatever outcomes would spur from them would ultimately just be something not worth paying attention to. Gaz shrugged either way; if he died, she wouldn't care. If he left, she wouldn't care...

Zim wasn't someone to care about, let alone let his childish and idiotic tendencies allow any sort of affect on anyone. It's not as if she held any particular grudge or hatred towards him, even though sometimes he proved to be an annoying presence. However, even then hate was too strong. Dislike was more appropriate, but it never failed to bother her that if she were to admit it, she would be wasting her energy in labeling a person that didn't need anymore attention than...well, nothing. She didn't understand why her brother didn't see that, but it wasn't something to argue over for...Or so her father saw otherwise, at least.

The word father brought a sense of dread inside her. Acknowledging him was now starting to do so, as she kept her mind constant and engrossed to her emotions about his recent behavior. By definition, he was a male parent who owned characteristics befitting a paternal protector, or guardian that would devote much to their offspring. If thinking and applying this definition logically to the owned occupation, her father was only half the quality; that being he was just her parent. And a parent he so deemed himself to be, without ever fulfilling the obligations associated.

If he so desired to only oblige half of his duty, then half of the title was to be ensured. He was now diminished to a fat, or a her, excluding whatever future quarrels he might have. Gaz smiled to herself, amused by her own thoughts; She enjoyed her dad's reaction to the idea of being called fat. He'd disregard it like if it was a fallacy in his terms of logic.

I'm fat? Me? Ridiculous. Go wander somewhere.

The smile disappeared when she applied it seriously...And after a while, she felt a twist in her chest when it was true in reference to his children. He normally became upset at Dib's ideas of extraterrestrial life. And Gaz? He thought her entire existence was just an object, just...some thing. As if she was there just to be there...

Gaz sighed, and opened her eyes. Her bedroom was dark, and the door was cracked slightly to allow a thin passage of light, which streamed across the room and it's contents until it encountered the wall. She was trying to sleep, however her mind sub-consciously forced thoughts into her mind for occupancy. It was beginning to bother her, these...ideas of self-centered angst, derivative from obstinate beliefs that possessed no logic. The thought of being captured by the grasp of such a concept—of her father's apparent misdoing—was completely insensible in itself. Especially if the knowledge of this event had been embedded into her prior to now. It didn't own any real significance before, so the affect that it had on her now shouldn't have been as cogent as it was.

Gaz shifted in her bed uncomfortably. After a while, she removed the blanket that concealed her body and sat up, bringing her knees up. The still air touched her legs, and the coolness of it felt slightly relieving. She'd been enclosed in heat underneath the layers, and it was beginning to thicken. A deep breath escaped her mouth, and she scanned her dark room with disinterest. Mentally, she placed items of her past inside her vision, and remembered she used to have a primarily pink room. Pink wasn't a bad color, however it was just visually overpowering in this set of scenery. She repainted her walls a dark navy blue to counter balance the other bright pigments.

Gaz glanced at the light that was seeping through the small opening, and another sigh left her nostrils. She wrapped her arms around her knees, and hugged herself closely; An act that she hardy did before. However, things were starting to take a toll upon her. She was under a pressure that she didn't know how to deal with. If something usually made her angry, she had the ability to asphyxiate the flame before she could allow her emotions to counter with her judgment. But now, because of her emotions were being kindled by a biological input, that was a warfare she had to wait through; a process she couldn't eliminate. It was something she was going to have to learn to endure through, and Gaz wasn't sure she was able to do it. Despite her uncertainty, the event would occur whether she was prepared for it or not. It was all starting a pressure in her mind, one that degraded her sense of attention. She was normally aware and very dimensional in her surroundings, but now that she'd encountered confusion for once and a fiery trail of nature maturation, things were starting to fall apart. Her composure, her sense of alertness, her ability to stabilize herself...

Gaz buried her face in her knees, and she could feel the cramps were slowly starting to form. Her gut felt warm and it was starting to tighten. She took a deep breath, holding her lower torso.

" Gaz? Dinner's ready." Her father called. Inwardly, she groaned. Not responding to the statement was something she was heavily inclined upon doing, as her current mood would be worsened if she tried to consume anything. If she pretended to be asleep, she could get away with silence. Gaz pondered the idea long enough to agree with it, but the door had opened onto her thoughts, and she was caught unaware. She flinched from the sudden exposure of light, and shadowed her brow with her hand.

" Dad..." She said, slightly bothered.

" Oh—Sorry, you didn't answer."

Gaz remained silent for a few moments, quarreling if she should remark upon her state of health or keep the event to herself. She wasn't one to complain if she had a sickness or not, as she never wanted to feel she needed to be dependent on someone without their consent. She felt that proclaiming her disadvantageous health at it's current state would only make her a burden, and so she never told anyone about her being sick.

Despite it, there were times where she had to stay home and was forced to be tended to.

Same with the idea of working in groups, if there was no possible way to convince the teacher otherwise; If she didn't know how to do something, it wasn't the other team members responsibility to account for her ignorance. It was something she'd find on her own, whether by reading books, or looking online. If that didn't help, then she would ask her family and propose the idea as if it was something that had crossed her curiosity.

Gaz sighed and rubbed her forehead. Her cramps offset an amalgam of reactions, as she could feel her brow begin to warm, and bring forth a headache.

" Are you okay, Gaz?" Her father asked.

" Yeah...I'm fine—don't worry, I'll be at dinner." She said, bringing her legs to the edge of the bed. Her father nodded, and promptly left the door to the state it was in before he disrupted it. She remained in the same position for a while. In her inactivity, her mind mentally made her pain conscious, and seemingly magnified it's presence. She remembered their medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and made a slow progression out of her room. She closed the door behind her, and squinted; The light burned the roof of her eyelids, and she felt slightly lightheaded as she'd changed her elevation.

Entering their bathroom, she took advantage of the dark room and the small amount of light spilling in from the hallway, and opened up the mirror. She opened up an Aspirin container and swallowed a few capsules. Admittedly, without water, she was able to receive a diluted taste of the surface of the pills, and the medicinal property wasn't very palatable.

She replaced the container back inside the cabinet, closed the mirror, and hurried out so no suspicions would rise. Gaz entered the kitchen, and approached the table, alongside the steaming food that was placed near the edge of her side of the table. Dib already began eating, however he was partly disengaged from the meal to one of his devices he had currently in his hand; he would keep himself occupied by the little doodad until he remembered his food and promptly would begin eating again, until his mind drew back to the mechanism once more. She didn't know what it was, but it would be unusual if she did know. Gaz sat herself at the chair, tried not to groan with her head throbbing and gut beginning to wrench, and looked down at her dinner.

They were having leftovers again; a stew that was a few days old, accompanied with a taste that'd gained it's remarkable capabilities of defying it's original piquancy. Gaz didn't want to outwardly show her distaste, so she stayed put and began eating. Per usual, their father made his own bowl, and retreated back downstairs into his laboratory. In the morning, he would finally return upstairs with a half empty bowl that was cold with oily soup.

Gaz played with her meal, and relocated the vegetables that would nest at the base of the bowl and sift them back within the liquids. She ate sparingly to reinvent this fashion of entertainment, only to keep her mind off of her pains, and to be kept from the looming presence of boredom. It hung around her like a curtain, however made no attempts at touching her.

She looked up from her bowl and over at her brother, which he was still messing around with whatever gadget he had in his possession. Because of his absent-minded eating, he was nearly done with his soup, which in all reality, was probably the best alternative to consuming something that wasn't exactly appetizing.

For a moment, though, she received the impulse to talk, and to kindle a conversation between the two. What she noticed was that the impulse itself had an alarming sense of intrigue and delight. Almost like if there was an inviting notion for her to commence. However, the confusing part was her aversion towards it. As if it was something that wasn't meant to be tempting. The fashion of which it was attempting to induce this action was mentally and instinctively faced with an immediate sense of dissent.

Normally, or rather recently, she didn't have a problem talking with Dib. She allowed herself to freely maneuver in any direction without any thought or concern towards the event or action. Now, she was acting like she did before; where she would strain herself from any social interaction with him. Gaz stopped to ponder why she was starting to feel this way again. It wasn't just puberty; if that was the case, she would let him in upon her recent behavior and allow him to understand her motives, if it truly was just something so simple. But that wasn't the case; She'd stopped receiving the initiative of freely speaking without any pessimistic talk in the back of her head. She stopped feeling open to him in general, and she stopped...caring, almost. That itself was alarming.

It brought up questions upon why she started, but that was more of a good thing then that being a bad thing. If regarding to her sudden appreciative view on her family, the question should be why she didn't start caring sooner. Then...she finally remembered.

It was as if Gaz being open and human was entirely dependent on her state of mind. She never realized until now that she, beforehand, ignored her brother because he got more attention than she did. Gaz claimed that she didn't care back then, and that the event of her knowing that her father favored him didn't bother her. However, even if she didn't care consciously, it still polluted her actions without her recognition. She wouldn't talk to anyone, or even show a personality because she was so in tuned to the idea that showing she didn't care about her father's choices meant that she couldn't care about anything else in turn. It was almost like a law she created for herself, and which she also didn't even know about.

And when she tried to change that by talking with him, when she finally decided to be open with him, her sub-conscious made it an effort to remind herself she was still under-appreciated. She was still just the youngest daughter, who owned no particular value in the eyes of her guardian. As if the entire aspect of her brother was just something to regard only if she was in some way redeemed. And in doing so, she held in all of the muted reactions that she would've had if she was impetuous like him. She kept inside the secret loathings and gossiping of her own self-conscious that only kindled her emotions. She would hold it all in, and act like it wasn't there...

Finally...You realize.

She clenched her fists, and didn't stop until the nails that were stabbing into the palms of her hand were numb. She coerced her mind of all thoughts, and feelings. She wanted no reaction from this. It wasn't true...It wasn't. She closed her eyes, and she felt her heart squeeze in her chest. In the process, she felt her cramps tighten against her lower abdomen. Gaz held her stomach, and pushed away from the table, and mounted off the chair. Her lips were trembling, but she disregarded it from mind. In her pain, she thought she heard Dib's voice, but was too unfocused to notice. She trudged back to her room, and lied upon the sinking surface of her bed.

Gaz didn't want to acknowledge what she discovered. She didn't want to think that all this time, that despite her efforts, her father's stupid actions were still effecting her. Something so small, so trivial...Despite it, it kept a presence in her mind, and she couldn't escape it's enclosure. It trapped her mind in a corner that she couldn't escape, and she had no choice but to confront it.

• • •

Gir's eyes remained upon the TV, and he watched without absorbing any details of what was occurring on the program. He didn't know how long he had been doing this. All he knew that he remembered seeing the darkness pass, until the light came, and the cycle repeated several times...

It was a cartoon he liked watching; one that was filled with animate people and lively spirited characters that always brought up his excitement and energy. However he was only able to look at them with unchanging sickness. He was lying on the couch, but he wasn't able to rest. He wasn't able to feel comforted. His body remained in a perpetuating shiver and in a cold nausea that riddled his entire system. His wiring shot out magnified signals of his distress, and rejuvenated his anxiety and horror. His mind embedded the images and the sights of the children he couldn't forget. Their disturbing appearances, and their unwholesome presence. He recalled the events, and replayed them over and over in his head, and he continued to live in his fear.

Gir hugged his knees closer to his chest, and his body continued shaking. His breathing was trembled in sequence, and it made passage through the duct installed in his throat with an unpleasing rub. It felt as if he was constantly on the verge of vomiting, of which his nervousness sat in the bout of his stomach. From the location of the couch, the light weakened the further it reached, and he was enveloped in an insecure amount of dimness that he felt had an everlasting loom towards him. In it, Gir felt the most vulnerability. He wanted to move. However, if he allowed to remove himself from the couch, his surroundings would be visible, and things that lived in the peripherals of his vision would lurk, and stare at him. He would be exposed. If he stayed, he allowed the change of the darkness to hide nearby predators, and consecutively be blinded to their actions. But Gir's state of health was getting the best of him, and his constant terror didn't help. He needed company to be safe; he wanted to be assured that he wasn't alone, and that he was with someone that could protect him. His superior was too far away to be of any help...That left Computer. But he was also an unlikely prospect.

Computer remained inactive for days, probably even a week. No matter how many times Gir had called to him, he wouldn't respond. It was past the point of observation of him being asleep, as Gir would recognize those conditions. There was something wrong. Something that prohibited him from speech, and most likely many other functions. However he had no idea what it was. He thought that he might've developed a virus in his system, but any pointers to conclusions were left void as he had no secure details to what it was that was hurting him. And the more he thought about it, the more he felt guilty for not knowing in how to react in the situation. There was a time where he tried to get his superior to help, but mentioning Computer only earned him to be ignored.

And when Gir, desperate to try and save the life of his best friend, pulled against his superior's shirt, pleading for his aid, he was hit. Numerous of times. He was yelled out, and directly kicked out of the room...

He realized that he was no longer focusing on the program being broadcast. However that wasn't on his concerns at the moment. Gir blinked, and remained in his shivering state a while longer.

" Computer." He whimpered. " What's wrong?" He knew he wouldn't get a response. It wasn't in his ability to do so.

In the event of thinking about him, Gir recalled the times where he talked with Computer. The thought of hearing him was a comfort. He remembered when, back a while ago, he would play music for him. He remembered that it sounded amazing, and he knew that Computer did so to reassure him when he was afraid, especially of his superior. He remembered he would make small talk with him, and start conversations about any subject Gir wanted, whenever he had no one else to talk to. And although, there would be the times where Computer would lose his patience to the shortcomings and mistakes Gir made, it wasn't anything too serious.

Computer told Gir not to tell Zim about this, about their conversations. It was something that he didn't need to know, and that if he did, it would most likely result in violence, because recently Zim had been in an angry mood that never left. Computer explained that it was something that had to do with his mission, and so he would be inexplicably violent at times, because his mission was all he had, and that whatever he did, he didn't mean to do it.

Despite it, whenever the small robot tried to apply that to heart, and whenever he tried to remember it when his superior hurt him or insulted him, he couldn't help but feel dismayed. Sometimes, there was an underlying emotion that told him that Zim did mean it. That Zim did hate Gir...

He blinked. Among his own fear, he felt another undesirable sensation fill in his system. There were times where he wished he wasn't created the way he was. Where he wasn't manufactured to emit thoughts and produce chemically altered electric signals to regularly construct his emotions. In combination, made his realistic mentality. And sometimes, he wondered if that was really something to appreciate.

The feeling that occupied his body increased, and his the electrical circuits that constructed his makeshift heart wavered. It resembled the feeling of his chest being wrenched; one that he hated the most.

He felt tears streaming down his face.

" Please tell me you're okay, Computer." Gir said, choking on his forthcoming sobs. " I don't want you to be in pain anymore...I want you to be safe."

He remained there on the couch, shivering, sobbing to himself. And the program continued to put forth episode after episode of any indistinct TV show that appeared upon the selected channel. And like the rest of the nights that he suffered through, and endured through his own upheaval of emotions and mental warfare, he had no sleep, no rest, and no alleviation. Desperate for self-preservation, his body activated the automated self-shutdown. Too much quarreling was occurring in his body for the extraction and distribution of energy and fuel. After a while, he would just be a deactivated metal shell in recharge. Before his thoughts completely left him, Gir remembered that Computer and Zim would argue, and he was usually told to leave the room. It never occurred to him before that Computer might've had something to do with Zim's missions...What would be the reason Zim would ignore Computer? Especially if Computer was in peril...

...Did Zim do this to Computer?