"THAT," Zim yelled, kicking down the door to his base, "Was the biggest waste of my time since the sneeple boy." He sneered at the memory as Dib stumbled in behind him.

"So it wasn't a hit, big whoop. Hey, at least the kangaroo got something out of it," he sighed. Dib caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall. Quarter past 3. He stared gloomily at the stairs separating him from the room he'd claimed in the base, then tossed his body like a sack of potatoes onto the living room couch.

"Yes, go ahead and waste your time with unconsciousness, of course I can write our report!" Zim hissed. Being met only with snores, he slumped in front of the television. "COMPUTER!"

Dib groaned in his sleep.

Zim grimaced. "Computer?" he said slightly quieter, "download the footage from tonight's hunt. I want to make sure I didn't miss anything."

"no." said the computer.

"ugh. Pleeeeeaaseeee?"

"Oh, uh. Huh. I'm flattered that was your second try, but I actually can't," said the computer, "You're out of storage."

"WHAT!?" Zim winced at the volume, but Dib was unfettered. "How could you be out of storage? You're supposed to be the best technology the Irken Empire has to offer!"

"Sigh. Ever since the, ahem, Florpus Incident, you told me to stop deleting things without your say so. But you never wanted to sit down and actually sort through it, so now my memory is clogged with 12 years of 50 cameras worth of security footage. Asshole."

"Oh. Well, uh…" he paused, "start deleting things then. Go on."

"No way. You want free space? Do it yourself. I'm not getting yelled at again just because you decided every season of "Floopsy Still Boops Shoopsy" was "important tactical information.""

"It's an underrated masterpiece before its time!" he insists. "But, fine. I will take the liberty of deleting unimportant data, because obviously you can't tell the difference between art and Garbage!"

The computer pulls up the storage interface. Zim gulps. "I shall start at the beginning! I'm sure there are tons of old "planetary conquest" schemes sitting around that I have no use for! Zim is an excellent organizer! Perhaps I will be done with this before the Dib finishes recharging."

~4 HOURS LATER~

"Uggggghhhhh this is taking forever! What is all this useless garbage! How could I have thought any of these cockamamie schemes would ever work? "Cheezo dust in the atmosphere?" "Taping bees together?" Preposterous! And why do I still have a system backup from 11 years ago?"

"Hmm," said the computer, "That… shouldn't be there. I always delete the previous backups after making a new one. I didn't know that existed."

"Well you obviously forgot!" Zim retorted.

"I'm a computer, I can't forget. I must not have made it."

"Well, if you didn't make it, who did?" Zim carefully maneuvered to the file to inspect it. 'Created 8-24-2001' it read. 'open backup? Y/N' Cautiously, Zim poked the blinking Y. The screen deadened for a moment, before busting back to life with a flurry of sound and color. Zim flailed around, grasping for the volume switch. Luckily for him, Dib was still catatonic from their stake-out. That human could sleep through an Organic Sweep, he thought to himself.

Whatever Zim expected in the age-old file, it wasn't… whatever this was. A wildly tossed-together compilation of security footage, human television and food products flashed across the screen in bright, garish colors. It took him a moment to realize exactly what he was seeing. "Hah, I remember that day!" Zim smiled. "Gir shoved his horrible brain into the mainframe and rampaged across town, nearly blowing our cover!" His anger quickly dissipated until all that was left was a hollow feeling. "heh, heheh… silly, Gir. This must have auto-saved before I got him out."

It had been 5 years. Five years without the little robot menace, always thwarting his plans, destroying his stuff, filling the base with his… defectiveness! Not a day passed where he doesn't miss him. The base felt so empty now, even with the Dib wandering in and out like he owned the place. Oftentimes, he would sit for weeks on end, clicking between channels, desperate to feel like he was just out for the day, like he'd be back any second with some junk food or a dead thing. Dib sometimes tried to break him out of his moods, but it was no use. Gir would know how, though. He would cover him in nachos, sing a horrible song, or just sit with him until he felt up to conquering again. He had tried everything to bring him back. But every time Zim tried to repair or rebuild him he was either a lifeless husk or a correctly functioning SIR. He'd given up a long time ago. To recreate the perfect amount of broken that made Gir, well, Gir was impossible. But somehow… here he was? All his thoughts and feelings, strange mannerisms and broken code preserved perfectly, like an insect in amber. Maybe...

Possessed, he stumbled to the couch, frantically shaking Dib awake.

"hhggghhh fuck off, Dad," he mumbled, "I'm not goin to fuckin coledge…"

"DIB."

"Wha- oh, Zim. What's up buddy?" he moaned, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

"Get up. We leave in five minutes." he ordered.

"Huh? Where are we going?" asked Dib, trying very hard to be a supportive friend.

"Grab a shovel. I'll explain on the way."