It would be laughable for Dib to spend his nights contemplating the many
habits Zim had taken up over the years. Time stands still for no one and,
obviously, time had been a persistent force grinding down on Dib's not-so-
terrestrial classmate. Months turn to years and eventually, time becomes a
general mishmash of related occurrences. What used to be: the defending,
the attacking, the game... no longer played on the young man's mind. Now,
his thoughts were more focused on completing lines of code and coming up
with new, innovative ways to organize data.
It's funny how childhood games become so trivial in the increasingly important need to attain functionality in a world run by man, aided by machine, and ignorant of any non-working factor. Zim had become a non- working factor. In the past eight years, Dib's assertions that the invader was no longer a threat became increasingly evident.
The first blow to Zim's unrelenting spirit had been a slow decay of his resources. Despite all attempts to maintain the massive structure that had once been a completely operational computer system, Zim had fallen prey to corrupt memory drives, lacking tools, and inferior devices. Now, to attempt the infiltration of such a place would be hazardous to even the designer.
The true dagger to the head had been the corruption of his pairing companions. First had gone the squeaky moose; its modules shot, Dib had seen the look of defeat on Zim's face when his prize creation ceased to respond. And finally, the robot, Gir, had ceased to function. He wasn't sure of this, of course. This was long after Dib had given up on the chase, but he had always noticed the creature, dressed as a dog, parading in the streets as if none would care that this wasn't common. One day, this had stopped and Zim, shortly after, took up the depressive mood he now commonly displayed.
School had been over for quite some time. College was the big hurdle at the moment and the more he strived to educate himself on various means of computer language, the less he saw of the dejected alien. Time continued, in the way it always did, leaving Zim in the past. Appearance wise, he hadn't changed one bit, though Dib had grown considerably and was now quite a bit taller than he had been at 12. Aside from looks, Zim's general air, the pride, the disgust, the utter contempt hadn't changed. He had simply found new ways to avoid expressing himself.
Dib wondered, sometimes, if the pint-sized invader didn't find himself ten floors below ground-level, yelling for the sheer spite of it all. It wouldn't surprise him in the least. Dib typed away at the console in front of him. His back was aching for hours of sitting in the rough seat and his bespectacled eyes strained to maintain clear vision.
He stopped, abruptly, and leaned back in his chair, stretching to feel the bones of his vertebra pop in unison. Bending his neck to the side, he felt another satisfying crunch as the bones resettled themselves. This was a definite sign that a break was in order.
Clambering away from his desk, Dib retreated into the kitchen of his small single apartment. Finding no form of refreshment, he ventured out. The cool evening air would surely help him get his mind off the many strings of unfinished characters.
Dib walked, hands in pockets and eyes on the clouded horizon. This was always a relaxing habit and not once did he have to worry about meeting anyone on the street. For some reason, people had taken to being indoors well before dark, a change from when he was a child. Perhaps they feared vandals, but he never had any trouble. Calmly and quietly he strode, making note of the sound his boots made when hitting the pavement. His path towards the store always took him past a house where, as a child, he would not have been content on doing anything less than watching for hours on end. The strange house, now as irreparable as the spirit of the being residing within, stood as it always had, though those around it had changed considerably with time.
Dib glanced sidelong at the property, just catching glimpse of a three fingered hand, receding from the closed blind. Zim was home. He was always home. Once school had ended, he had found it unreasonable to leave and never did.
The alien pulled away from the window, not caring to watch the once diligent boy pass. He wrapped frail arms around himself and walked towards his kitchen area. The home was, by far, inadequately sized for any who were not prone to living underground, but as the alien came to the expansive subterranean layers, it showed the true magnitude of the facility. The room was large, cavernous and poorly lit. The only light present came from a circle of candles in the center, which Zim now ventured towards.
It seemed an eternity had lapsed since the horrible accident that had inadvertently crippled his base. The first had been a damaged section of his spaceship, effectively grounding it. When he had attempted to order replacement components, he discovered the 'accidental' explosion brought about by his inferior robot's attempts to chew on some exposed cables had caused irreparable harm to his communications devices. Zim had become trapped. Failed attempts at fixing his links to civilization led him to neglect other rising problems. Poor Zim fell behind.
Now he found admittance into his circle of light and glanced about at his surroundings. Aside from the dusty debris scattered about the ground and humidity that had seeped through cracks in the structure, the place still held. Inside the circle was an almost indiscernible violet shape. It was the remains of a longtime companion of his own creation. It had been made as the ultimate sidekick and, in many ways, Minimoose had fulfilled this role. Another inhabitant of the bare room was the metal husk of Gir, propped along the corner of two machines, barely visible in the pale light.
"Do you see what has happened to me Gir?" the reflective orbital of the machine held no signs of response, but the addressor didn't seem to notice in the least.
"I've become a renegade, lost to this miserable place. It's all because of you." The fiery glint in Zim's eyes was serious. He knew what being stranded here was and he'd give anything to taste the stars once more.
"Don't try to convince me otherwise. I know that the explosion was your fault! You've been denying it for three years now!" He points a finger at the figure. "Do you know what this means for me?" he took up the act of pacing across the diameter of his light circle. "My pak was due for an update over a year ago! I know it is rapidly falling into the decay that has overcome this place. It's even affected you!" Zim paused in his motion and glared deadly at the unmoving object.
"You can't move anymore, can you? I know you want to scream loudly, to rebuke me, but you can't now can you? Your interactions have fallen to a dull whisper. I can barely hear you." The husk remained unmoving as Zim ventured into the shadows to retrieve it. "Answer me you mindless piece of garbage!" Zim exclaimed as he grasped the machine's neck and hoisted it above his head and violently tossed the metal in the direction of his circle. It landed near a candle and toppled the wax dripping edifice over, allowing it to run across the floor and make odd reflections in the sparse illumination.
"You know, that's what your G stands for... garbage. You're worthless... trash..." he allowed himself to turn away from the light, hands clasped behind his back and pacing towards the shadows.
"Shut Up!" Zim suddenly exclaimed, turning to come face to face with the inoperative machine. "All this I've come to hate is your doing! It was always your fault! Stop denying it! You can't deny it..." Zim screwed his eyes shut, placing fists to his temples and exerting a fair amount of pressure.
"When will it end?" Tormented, Zim slumped into a sitting position in the shadows. "I saw the Dib today." He stated this in an 'in other news' fashion. "Or, at least I believe it was the Dib. Things here change so rapidly. He was walking by; it won't be long before he comes again."...
"Why would I do that?! It seems anything I attempt is doomed to futility. Why should I pose this one last threat to his existence? Would it not be mundane and trivial at this point?"...
"I don't see your meaning... my pak is not as reliable as it once was. I don't know how much I can trust... I am beginning to doubt if I had seen him a few minutes or a few weeks ago." Zim laid on his back, letting the solitude get to him... feeling it overcome as his long ineffective companion remained where he lay. Zim sighed indignantly.
"How Gir?" Zim looked crossly at his companion.
Now, coming to a stand, the Irken shifted on his feet, deliberating once more. He glanced at the dusty floor, finding something that caught his eye. The innocently glinting object was soon picked up and, as Zim closed his gloved hand around the item, he had to clench his teeth.
"I will Gir, you'll see..." he stated as he ascended to the first level of his abode. Once reaching this floor, he came to the window and glanced out, seeing the street lights had activated along the road. He twist open the blinds and walked away from the opening, finding himself on the old couch, clutching his precious tool. He waited and waited... Several minutes passed before any activity was observed outside and, as Dib calmly passed Zim's house, he glanced at it out of habit.
The alien hopped from his place on the couch and glared out, closing the blinds as if to shut out the boy's view. Zim continued to stare at the plastic barrier for a few moments, clenching his fists tightly. The initial pain this caused, however, forced him to let out a weak whine of discomfort and look down at what had happened.
He found the piece of glass, glinting in the room's lighting, had cut through his glove and was now coated with warm green blood. It appeared to have been cut earlier, but his fist clenching moment had disrupted the wound, making it flow anew. With a worried expression, the Irken dropped the glass to the ground and went quickly to flush his wound.
Outside, Dib noted the alien... obviously still alive, shutting his blinds securely. With a shrug, he took a sip of the carbonated beverage he now carried. The walk home was as uneventful and full of tranquility as before. The only difference was the stars which shone brightly in the absence of light. Dib vowed to make a trip to the country sometime soon, just so he could see them shimmering in their full glory. It had been too long since he had seen that.
Once reaching his apartment, he opened the door and ventured past the kitchen, placing a case of drinks on the counter. On to the bedroom he went, sitting himself at the computer and shaking the mouse, to remove the screen idle. He then continued his work.
Zim leaned against one of his many unworking machines in the shadows of his underground room. He glanced forward at the vacant eyes of his non- operational robot.
"I cut myself today..."
END
It's always fun to sit down and write. The funniest things come out. I put Entwined by Lacuna Coil on repeat to write this... I honestly don't think machines would turn to crap this quickly, but ah well... reviews for this... this thing I cannot claim to own, but simply to have elaborated on, would be greatly appreciated. I think my grammar is horrible in this, but I am still feeling the effects of the caffeine I consumed about 24 hours ago, so take that into effect. Anyway, I shoom for now...
It's funny how childhood games become so trivial in the increasingly important need to attain functionality in a world run by man, aided by machine, and ignorant of any non-working factor. Zim had become a non- working factor. In the past eight years, Dib's assertions that the invader was no longer a threat became increasingly evident.
The first blow to Zim's unrelenting spirit had been a slow decay of his resources. Despite all attempts to maintain the massive structure that had once been a completely operational computer system, Zim had fallen prey to corrupt memory drives, lacking tools, and inferior devices. Now, to attempt the infiltration of such a place would be hazardous to even the designer.
The true dagger to the head had been the corruption of his pairing companions. First had gone the squeaky moose; its modules shot, Dib had seen the look of defeat on Zim's face when his prize creation ceased to respond. And finally, the robot, Gir, had ceased to function. He wasn't sure of this, of course. This was long after Dib had given up on the chase, but he had always noticed the creature, dressed as a dog, parading in the streets as if none would care that this wasn't common. One day, this had stopped and Zim, shortly after, took up the depressive mood he now commonly displayed.
School had been over for quite some time. College was the big hurdle at the moment and the more he strived to educate himself on various means of computer language, the less he saw of the dejected alien. Time continued, in the way it always did, leaving Zim in the past. Appearance wise, he hadn't changed one bit, though Dib had grown considerably and was now quite a bit taller than he had been at 12. Aside from looks, Zim's general air, the pride, the disgust, the utter contempt hadn't changed. He had simply found new ways to avoid expressing himself.
Dib wondered, sometimes, if the pint-sized invader didn't find himself ten floors below ground-level, yelling for the sheer spite of it all. It wouldn't surprise him in the least. Dib typed away at the console in front of him. His back was aching for hours of sitting in the rough seat and his bespectacled eyes strained to maintain clear vision.
He stopped, abruptly, and leaned back in his chair, stretching to feel the bones of his vertebra pop in unison. Bending his neck to the side, he felt another satisfying crunch as the bones resettled themselves. This was a definite sign that a break was in order.
Clambering away from his desk, Dib retreated into the kitchen of his small single apartment. Finding no form of refreshment, he ventured out. The cool evening air would surely help him get his mind off the many strings of unfinished characters.
Dib walked, hands in pockets and eyes on the clouded horizon. This was always a relaxing habit and not once did he have to worry about meeting anyone on the street. For some reason, people had taken to being indoors well before dark, a change from when he was a child. Perhaps they feared vandals, but he never had any trouble. Calmly and quietly he strode, making note of the sound his boots made when hitting the pavement. His path towards the store always took him past a house where, as a child, he would not have been content on doing anything less than watching for hours on end. The strange house, now as irreparable as the spirit of the being residing within, stood as it always had, though those around it had changed considerably with time.
Dib glanced sidelong at the property, just catching glimpse of a three fingered hand, receding from the closed blind. Zim was home. He was always home. Once school had ended, he had found it unreasonable to leave and never did.
The alien pulled away from the window, not caring to watch the once diligent boy pass. He wrapped frail arms around himself and walked towards his kitchen area. The home was, by far, inadequately sized for any who were not prone to living underground, but as the alien came to the expansive subterranean layers, it showed the true magnitude of the facility. The room was large, cavernous and poorly lit. The only light present came from a circle of candles in the center, which Zim now ventured towards.
It seemed an eternity had lapsed since the horrible accident that had inadvertently crippled his base. The first had been a damaged section of his spaceship, effectively grounding it. When he had attempted to order replacement components, he discovered the 'accidental' explosion brought about by his inferior robot's attempts to chew on some exposed cables had caused irreparable harm to his communications devices. Zim had become trapped. Failed attempts at fixing his links to civilization led him to neglect other rising problems. Poor Zim fell behind.
Now he found admittance into his circle of light and glanced about at his surroundings. Aside from the dusty debris scattered about the ground and humidity that had seeped through cracks in the structure, the place still held. Inside the circle was an almost indiscernible violet shape. It was the remains of a longtime companion of his own creation. It had been made as the ultimate sidekick and, in many ways, Minimoose had fulfilled this role. Another inhabitant of the bare room was the metal husk of Gir, propped along the corner of two machines, barely visible in the pale light.
"Do you see what has happened to me Gir?" the reflective orbital of the machine held no signs of response, but the addressor didn't seem to notice in the least.
"I've become a renegade, lost to this miserable place. It's all because of you." The fiery glint in Zim's eyes was serious. He knew what being stranded here was and he'd give anything to taste the stars once more.
"Don't try to convince me otherwise. I know that the explosion was your fault! You've been denying it for three years now!" He points a finger at the figure. "Do you know what this means for me?" he took up the act of pacing across the diameter of his light circle. "My pak was due for an update over a year ago! I know it is rapidly falling into the decay that has overcome this place. It's even affected you!" Zim paused in his motion and glared deadly at the unmoving object.
"You can't move anymore, can you? I know you want to scream loudly, to rebuke me, but you can't now can you? Your interactions have fallen to a dull whisper. I can barely hear you." The husk remained unmoving as Zim ventured into the shadows to retrieve it. "Answer me you mindless piece of garbage!" Zim exclaimed as he grasped the machine's neck and hoisted it above his head and violently tossed the metal in the direction of his circle. It landed near a candle and toppled the wax dripping edifice over, allowing it to run across the floor and make odd reflections in the sparse illumination.
"You know, that's what your G stands for... garbage. You're worthless... trash..." he allowed himself to turn away from the light, hands clasped behind his back and pacing towards the shadows.
"Shut Up!" Zim suddenly exclaimed, turning to come face to face with the inoperative machine. "All this I've come to hate is your doing! It was always your fault! Stop denying it! You can't deny it..." Zim screwed his eyes shut, placing fists to his temples and exerting a fair amount of pressure.
"When will it end?" Tormented, Zim slumped into a sitting position in the shadows. "I saw the Dib today." He stated this in an 'in other news' fashion. "Or, at least I believe it was the Dib. Things here change so rapidly. He was walking by; it won't be long before he comes again."...
"Why would I do that?! It seems anything I attempt is doomed to futility. Why should I pose this one last threat to his existence? Would it not be mundane and trivial at this point?"...
"I don't see your meaning... my pak is not as reliable as it once was. I don't know how much I can trust... I am beginning to doubt if I had seen him a few minutes or a few weeks ago." Zim laid on his back, letting the solitude get to him... feeling it overcome as his long ineffective companion remained where he lay. Zim sighed indignantly.
"How Gir?" Zim looked crossly at his companion.
Now, coming to a stand, the Irken shifted on his feet, deliberating once more. He glanced at the dusty floor, finding something that caught his eye. The innocently glinting object was soon picked up and, as Zim closed his gloved hand around the item, he had to clench his teeth.
"I will Gir, you'll see..." he stated as he ascended to the first level of his abode. Once reaching this floor, he came to the window and glanced out, seeing the street lights had activated along the road. He twist open the blinds and walked away from the opening, finding himself on the old couch, clutching his precious tool. He waited and waited... Several minutes passed before any activity was observed outside and, as Dib calmly passed Zim's house, he glanced at it out of habit.
The alien hopped from his place on the couch and glared out, closing the blinds as if to shut out the boy's view. Zim continued to stare at the plastic barrier for a few moments, clenching his fists tightly. The initial pain this caused, however, forced him to let out a weak whine of discomfort and look down at what had happened.
He found the piece of glass, glinting in the room's lighting, had cut through his glove and was now coated with warm green blood. It appeared to have been cut earlier, but his fist clenching moment had disrupted the wound, making it flow anew. With a worried expression, the Irken dropped the glass to the ground and went quickly to flush his wound.
Outside, Dib noted the alien... obviously still alive, shutting his blinds securely. With a shrug, he took a sip of the carbonated beverage he now carried. The walk home was as uneventful and full of tranquility as before. The only difference was the stars which shone brightly in the absence of light. Dib vowed to make a trip to the country sometime soon, just so he could see them shimmering in their full glory. It had been too long since he had seen that.
Once reaching his apartment, he opened the door and ventured past the kitchen, placing a case of drinks on the counter. On to the bedroom he went, sitting himself at the computer and shaking the mouse, to remove the screen idle. He then continued his work.
Zim leaned against one of his many unworking machines in the shadows of his underground room. He glanced forward at the vacant eyes of his non- operational robot.
"I cut myself today..."
END
It's always fun to sit down and write. The funniest things come out. I put Entwined by Lacuna Coil on repeat to write this... I honestly don't think machines would turn to crap this quickly, but ah well... reviews for this... this thing I cannot claim to own, but simply to have elaborated on, would be greatly appreciated. I think my grammar is horrible in this, but I am still feeling the effects of the caffeine I consumed about 24 hours ago, so take that into effect. Anyway, I shoom for now...