Chapter 23: " Doldrums "

It was at this moment that the Irken was sincerely starting to worry. He would realize that he was grasping the edge of his seat and his legs involuntarily shook. It wasn't entirely logical for this reaction to be as fervent as it was. His mind continually tried to convince itself that he was in no state of peril. There was no forthcoming danger and therefore his automated senses of alertness and detection of threats was being implemented at a completely incongruous situation. However, he wasn't nervous for himself. He was anxious for the man.

The soldiers aligned the immense cables to the man's back, and used alternate tools to bolt in the extents to his PAK device. Zim furrowed his brow, and nearly gaped at the completing process, as he learned that particular device was imperative to the Irken race as a life source. It contained vast functions of which it acted as a separate brain, and computed more efficiently than the standard organic ones that they were born with. The PAK device held to a near unlimited data source for storage and functionality and was programmed to contain knowledge of the various techniques, training and mandatory learning skills for Invaders, if the individual themselves wanted to unlock the necessary information.

And just acting as a subsidiary element, the PAK device was able to store memories and knowledge that an individual gained into it's digital storage compartments, whenever they weren't able to remember. If it so desired, it could access those storage compartments and upon the whim and wish of the owner, could delete them if they were useless memories or ones that caused pain, making it easier to operate as an Invader.

And yet Zim beheld the Soldiers drilling, and fastening screws onto it as if it were just another standardized mechanism with no important functions, securing on hefty cables to them for whatever purposes they so deemed worthy to damage the poor man's mind for.

He felt bad for him. More than that; he felt his pain. It made him cringe to see them do that to without any regards to the person they were doing it to. But it was obvious at this point; the man must've done something. They wouldn't have just began punishing a random citizen just for the hell of this event to occur. He must've been a criminal, or somebody who would've deserved this.

Despite the thoughts, Zim couldn't help but pity him. Whether his culpability to whatever past crimes that might've been committed were real or not, he couldn't witness somebody being harmed in any way and be expected to be negligent of his existence. He blinked, and willed himself to continue to watch.

The small Irken realized the man's fatigue. He knees buckled, and the weight being applied to his back was making him lean slightly against the imbalance. His eyes carried bags and his eyelids were darkened from stress. All the more while, there were still possible elements that the smeet wasn't accounting for; For instance, what if the soldiers had ridden him of food or water? And forced him into a fast for a few days in advance to prepare for this event? There might be other aspects that they've tortured him in...

But why? Why was he here to witness this? What was the purpose of showing this to him?

Zim felt his gut twist in his stomach from his anxiety. The Soldiers were done with the cables. And the man's sobbing only prolonged. One of the soldiers were visibly irritated by it. The smeet noticed it whenever he would shoot a dirty look on him when his sobs became louder. And it was obvious he had enough of it.

While the other continued to configure with the generator, the other approached the man. He immediately stopped sobbing as he was confronted. The Soldier used his intimidating and robust build to size with the waifish man, exuding his dominance in a disgusting fashion. The man nearly cowered in his fear, and the Soldier moved his shoulders as his arm cocked back, and Zim was momentarily caught in a stupor as the speed of his assault was shocking. He had backhanded the man with his brutish hands. The sound that resonated was loud and sharp, as the man's head whipped to the side and he stumbled to the ground from the force. The Soldier's companion turned back to see what was happening with a prominent look of confusion on his face, but made no move to stop him.

The Soldier walked slowly towards the man he'd assaulted, who was presently coughing out blood, and took a step backwards to leap his foot into his gut and Zim flinched. The man let out a gasp for air, and released ghastly, choked coughs.

This was cruelty, his only thoughts were. As a smeet, he learned deathly tactics of how to conspire, kill, and neutralize the enemy, but this was something else. To hurt another civilian of this planet was something inconceivable. Maybe he might've done something to deserve this. Maybe. But until the small Irken knew otherwise, he wasn't going to condone this.

He noticed he was shivering. Yes. It was fear. It was his anxiety. It was an amalgam of emotions and feelings running through his system that mitigated and convulsed his mind with a stampeding force. He was furious. He felt sick, and he was confused. But that was all there was to it. Zim didn't know anything else, other than this wasn't humane in any way possible. He couldn't comprehend anything anymore. Why was he here? What are they doing to him? Why are they hurting him? Is this man being punished? The smeet wanted to call out. He wanted to tell them to stop. He wanted to aid the innocent who was being assaulted, and demoralized. But it wasn't in his place to. There was a reason to everything behind this. This was an orchestrated event that was supposed to occur. All of these actions, and all of these things that Zim felt was mandatory, and expected. The only thing that they inaudibly asked, was for his silence. His attention. Any fashion of contemplation or absorption of the event was to be considered an involuntary but necessary process of this. They were here to demonstrate an idea, or rather instill an abstract that would be a tool used for future references. A guideline almost.

At that moment, The small Irken understood something. This was a learning tool. Why else would the Tallest himself bring him here? With little to no instruction? Let alone provide any sort of insight on to what it was he was supposed to be witnessing? This was for the purpose of mental deliberation and assessment, and eventual application to the real world...

This was supposed to be the way it was. Everything. Even causing this man's pain was intentional...Zim would have to figure out for himself why.

And with dishearten and uncertainty, he continued to watch. The Soldier forced the man up, and he was staggering with a swimming head. And once he gained ground on his unstable feet, they continued with the generator. In the lingering moments of silence, He noticed the man's bleeding lip. It was ruptured, and part of the skin had been torn loose. He could tell he was lightheaded, by the way his upper body tipped over uneasily. There were a lot of things he could see, things that he inferred about him and his state of health. In his moment of contemplation the man glanced at the small Irken again, slowly. Painfully.

He saw his emptied sorrow. His loss of hope. And with his sullen gaze, Zim writhed in his guilt, as if he was responsible in a way.

That was when the machine was activated. The lights on the generator shone to a bright blue, and it's radiance shimmered through the slim holes of the cover over the main engine. The man looked away and closed his eyes shut tight. His eyebrows furrowed and his teeth gritted.

The smeet widened his eyes as his heart began to race...

Please don't hurt him. He whispered to himself.

• • •

Dib was up late typing a report due for his English class, when he checked the time and date on his Computer's taskbar. It was currently 11:05, the 3rd of December. Through the windows in his bedroom, he could hear the sleet pattering against the surfaces of the earth; it was a quite tapping somebody would do against someone else's shoulders to give them a friendly reminder. Despite the reason being, it normally took a few more days for it to actually start snowing. Dib blinked and stretched out his arms, tired and slightly sore from his stiffly maintained posture, in his typing pose. One thing he hated about English was it's necessity to always have long unbelievable essays about some of the most irrelevant and rather ludicrous topics. It required in depth thinking about small individualized aspects of whatever essay that the students were assigned to study, which were no more intricate than a 3rd grader's writing.

He let out a deep breath when he relaxed his muscles, and blinked a few more times to relieve his strained eyes. Dib removed his glasses, and cleaned them with his sleeve. Feeling the fabric of the polyester cloth mix, he remembered it's strange permeability when Zim had started that food fight a while ago. The jacket reeked of oil and grease for the longest time, until he cleaned it in the washing machine with bleach and other detergents a few times in a row. However, in sequence, it did manage to rupture the astute threading and embroidery. Now it felt a little rugged when one would smooth their finger over the surface, which made it feel more like loose cotton now, but Dib thought it just added a little more personality to it.

Remembering that, he also in turn remembered Zim...It was strange to use that term; Remember. As if to recall long past events. Memories, almost as diluted images and actions which were interwoven with emotions and history.

Zim had been gone a while now. Nearly a month and a half. And within that time period, Dib learned to forget about him. He learned to practically move on, however using that term didn't fit appropriately as well, as it was more commonly used to describe a situation where one doesn't want to forget a certain individual because of whatever tragic past that might've been associated with them. Like a widow, in the process of moving on from her dead husband. In this case, Dib had been wanting to forget Zim for the longest time.

When Dib stopped talking about Zim, his father became curious, as it was never before an occurrence for his son to not be partaken in an event that didn't involve the other famously known counterpart. Actually, he'd even asked how Zim was doing when Dib was attending dinner. He just shrugged meagerly with disinterest and continued eating. He continued on pressuring with questions, and remarks that eventually Dib mentioned that he didn't care anymore; that Zim was finally out of his life and he was through with it all. After that remark, his father never asked him about Zim again.

Dib wasn't sure if he was satisfied with the answer, or disappointed. Even if he'd know the man for his entire life, there were still things that yet he couldn't discern about him. He carried a certain aura that never left, even when he was in his most tempestuous of moods. The only times when it departed from him was when he had arguments with his son. And usually then it only ever weakened slightly. That aura was the main prospect of which Dib tried to use to his advantage when he couldn't rely on his father's facial movements for emotional interpretation. Normal times, it was easy just by his intuition to tell what his father felt at the more casual of emotions. Like boredom, or disinterest, etc.

Dib blinked and scrolled through the pages he had just typed. He looked upon words and scanned it with apathy, while he ran the scroll wheel of his computer mouse. During this time, his mind sank his attention back to his thoughts and more pensive activities. Dib realized that he didn't feel any different when he forgot about Zim. There was no happiness, or sudden burst of energy, as opposed to what he originally thought. It all remained the same, calm momentum that never seemed to end, really. Dib knew it was because of what he figured out before; when he noticed he was resulting to a stagnant life of nothingness. Where before he would actually do the things that did entertain him.

He knew it wouldn't stop him from pursuing engineering, even though now he had no real initiative to build anything. But he felt that it would be the aspect in life he would prosper at, and so it was his ultimate decision for his career. But at the same time, he didn't feel any sort of eagerness for it. Despite his skills in the area, it didn't bring any motivation. The thought slightly troubled him, however he didn't linger on it much longer.

He remembered that he was supposed to be typing an essay, and sighed. But he stretched out his arms, in preparation for another interval of time of his stiff posture, and without any other thoughts to shadow his mind, he continued writing his report.

• • •

Gir remained on the bed of the floor for a while longer. It was cold outside, and the rain pattered against the windows and the house with a solemnity that oddly seemed calming. The sound occupied the small robot's mind, and it allowed his lawless emotions to be held under sturdy constriction. However, he still shivered from his fear, and the small lingering nervousness that swelled in his gut never left as well. He let out an uneasy sigh, which made his constantly tightened throat to loosen. He felt on the verge of vomiting, as always from how disturbed he felt, even though he didn't feel a sickness thriving inside his system. Gir didn't feel physically sick; it was all in his mind, that branched the roots of fear, horror and anxiety all at once that constituted to his mental nausea.

He looked at the beads of water that adhered to the window from the colliding rain drops. They looked like tears, how some of them traveled down the surface of the glass, leaving small trails of even smaller droplets. He shivered again, and this time from his notice to being cold. It was frigid in here, one with an icy bitterness that emanated from the windows. Despite their subsidiary purposes to act as, at most, a decently reliable cover from the outside, they still managed to be a permeable access point. They allowed the energies from the outside, that Zim so tried to forbid, inside with disregard to his wants. Gir blinked and hugged himself closer.

In the morning, he had attempted to turn on the TV, but to no avail. It didn't really surprise him, but it gave him nothing to do; For the past few weeks, Gir couldn't recall if he ever turned off the TV for it to rest or not. He didn't know if it was because it short-circuited, or if a fuse was blown, or if the house itself, concerning it was the body of Computer, turned it off on automation.

Gir shivered again, and he remembered what it was he was going to do. It brought up nervousness again in his body, and he swallowed a lump in his throat. He felt a heavy bout of reluctance sitting upon his body, forbidding him to get up. He willed his body to move, but it felt that his nerve synapses weren't sending the messages to the rest of his limbs for the action to be executed. Gir sat there, in his mixture of emotions, pondering and worrying over in his mind. He blinked and looked at the TV screen.

If this was going to shed light on what happened to him...Then it was worth it. And on that note, Gir lifted himself off the ground to shaky knees. He hugged his arms tighter and closer, and carried on his way in a direction he didn't want to verify. He didn't want to believe he was doing this himself, and so to give name to the details would certainly terrify him more. It would make him realize what he was doing, and he had to convince himself otherwise.

Gir leaped on the toilet seat, and made his way down.

• • •

The first thing that Gir noticed was the very prominent decline in temperature. It felt nearly as equal to the frost that would mist from the fridge when it was opened. He didn't exactly understand why it was necessary for these halls to have such a small amount of heat, but that wasn't something too serious to question about to his superior. However, he did worry some that his joints might start seizing, and compress his flexibility and movement. Once he finally reached the bottom of where the elevation tube had stopped, he disembarked off the platform. He reached the hallways and continued walking in his leisure speed. Gir didn't want to rush this. Neither was he wanting to actually do this, but it wasn't really a choice.

He shivered, and felt that him hugging himself wasn't helping anything. However the effort to keep trying made a makeshift warmth that he only recognized mentally, and it garnered in the middle of his torso, where his arms touched his body. It was better than nothing, so he decided.

What am I doing? Gir asked himself realistically, with a sigh. His pace eventually slowed down to a stop. He stared in front of him, as far as his vision could see in the dark hallways. There were the eventual purple lights that shone and cast away the darkness with a painless effort. It only magnified the more of the already purple interior of these hallways, with an over pigmentation that can make even the most color blind of people sick of the color purple.

Gir blinked and shivered again, his synthetic muscles contracting and expanding in bursts. When he made his actions conscious, and analyzed them with the small amount of intuition he owned; even he could say that what he was expecting to do, alongside with his wanting of results was essentially stupid. He was planning on interrogating Zim for the reasons of why he hurt Computer, or things of the general like. With what sort of threat was he going to be, if he tried to probe answers out of him? It would be absurdly similar to an ant trying to threaten a cat; It just didn't work. Gir imagined the scene to transpire.

Hey you. Said the ant. I'm threatening.

The cat stared.

Oh yes. The cat replied. Said no one, ever.

I did. The ant countered.

The cat grinned amusingly.

Exactly.

Gir liked to let his mind wander aimlessly, and in many cases, it did prove to help bring up his mood and cheer his attitude in small extents, however it never did anything productive when concerning the things he was needing to be concerned about in the now. His joy and cheer molded away into nothingness, when he remembered everything he'd experienced. Soon it churned into a fastened image with spectacular detail. It hung around his head, and soon he could feel his fear and paranoia reach higher peaks again. Gir blinked and slumped against the wall. He allowed himself to sit, and bundle himself to keep warm. The idea of freezing seemed slightly ridiculous, sense it was all executed by his own perpetration. Although it was indeed unrealistic to worry over something of such insignificance, Gir's mind still made it a thought to be wary over his body temperatures. He closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the wall. He forced his mind to converge back to the first subject, and reestablished his thoughts.

It was near to that of a suicide mission, scratching out the factors that connoted fatality and other threats by definition. The plan itself wasn't thought out completely, and the execution wasn't going to be any better. Besides, what was the point? Gir cared about Computer, but who was he in comparison to his superior, to question the actions of the person in question? He was typically regarded to as an it by nature. One that didn't seem worthy enough to even gather a gender pronoun, respectively, if looking upon the nature of his artificial body.

Gir wanted to take action, he really did, but there were more things to consider than the facts that he felt worried and upset about Computer's state of health. Despite his emotions, this was something that surpassed his liberty and position. Granted that most of the time Zim never cared much about him in the first place, especially with his spontaneous actions, however for the past weeks that had gone by Zim wasn't exactly... himself—Or so what Gir determined him to be. Nowadays, he would get concerned if he asked him a question. He wasn't sure anymore what would rile up his anger, because he was becoming more and more impetuous. And if he did try to surpass his level of authority, he would be met with the wrath of a merciless Invader.

Gir was just a shadow amongst his superior, a mere mirage helpful for scenery. Being anything else proved to be very consequential. Thinking of this, and realizing brought disappointment and small swallows of dejection. It fused with the perturbations already established in his head, and caused him turmoil. Again, he felt that his mind was being fixated into a puzzle, and he felt stuck. Out of his confusion, came his sorrow and frustration. And when he lingered on his final thoughts; he decided to take no actions. When he made that thought conscious, he felt guilty. It clouded him and he felt an unrealistic culpability to the events when he owned none.

The small robot stood up, and finally opened his eyes. He observed his surroundings a little more, and turned around in defeat. Trembling, now from more than just the cold, he continued walking. His fears had been coerced to stay at bay, when he had the task in mind. But now with the thoughts gone, and restored as simple tertiary existences, The images came back, and so did the sounds. It mixed with the darkness around him, and the loneliness he felt. It wasn't too long until he felt exposed, and safety was starting to become more and more intangible with every passing moment.

He remembered the children. He remembered their faces, and tried to forget them. But their screams resonated in his head. The wiring, their expressions. Within association, Gir felt that the room might've had a scent of blood, and he felt his odor receptors almost begin to flare with the imagined stench.

He closed his eyes again, and began hurrying.

" Leave me alone." He whimpered, his voice carrying over along the blinded paths around him. His makeshift stomach wrenched in his insides, and he felt the urge to vomit, despite he hadn't eaten anything for near weeks. The small robot held his head, and felt the indentation. It was enough for his mind to send information over his memories, but the memory of the children was strong, and it sidled back into his mind with efficiency. He tried to remember the music Computer played for him, but it was slipping from his ears, and fading away from his mind. The sounds of the instruments soon met discord, and a nonsensical fashion of notes jumbled in his mind. Expectantly, they turned to the cacophony of screams. Gir felt a knot in his throat, and he felt almost like crying.

He began running. His mind was being overrun by his emotions again, and he would have another nervous breakdown. He needed to get out of the darkness; get out of the open. Presences unknown lurked inside the darkness and followed, and he continued running in his terror. His unable mind tried to process it all, but it was attempting to sustain a pressure that required stability. And recently, Gir didn't have any. Before he started screaming from his malfunctioning mind, he rammed into a force that knocked him back, tripping him over his feet and falling down. His mind, jarred slightly from the impact, took focus on to who he'd just suffered to encounter.

It was Zim. He was holding his clavicle with gritted teeth, presumably which had just been hit by Gir's head. Being assaulted, his eyes took on a graveness and his glare positioned to the inferior being on the floor. The laceration under his eye was still very prominent, and bruised. He wouldn't have forgotten about it yet. Thoughts of severe punishment ran through his head, and his worry over pain and other senses mitigated. He stammered, tried to come up with an excuse, but couldn't form speech.

" I-I-I didn't—It was dark—I wasn't—"

Zim's facial expression formed a nasty sneer. He rose from his kneeling stance, and kept a heavy gaze. Gir stopped trying to speak, and cowered against the floor, and he was crying again. His mind was shattering, and he was forgetting things now. What was it he was so afraid of? Why did he feel disturbed all the time?

...Why did Zim hate him so much?

The small robot was covering his head, and he sobbed shamefully. His emotions erupted out of him continuously, and his superior did nothing but stare. Stare at the pathetic mind trying to make sense out of the volatility of logic in this universe. Stare at the pitiable structure of mental stability crumble into pieces.

Please...don't hurt me...I'm sorry...

The robot whimpered shakily. He didn't move to look up, and he stayed in a fetal position for his own protection. Moments passed, and nothing occurred. Silence stretched over the hallways, and Gir was tempted to look up, to see if Zim was still there. But the noise of his boots were confirmation of his presence, and he flinched from the sound as his first thought was that he was going to be kicked. But there was no pain; nothing but the sound of his superior walking away.

The small robot released a disturbed sigh out of his system, and relaxed his body. However it resulted into trembling, for multiple reasons. Reasons that he didn't want to acknowledge. Reasons that would only fill him with more shame if he were to bring them to word and recognition. And in his last efforts of comfort, he hugged himself once more.