A/Note: Well, this story's almost over. I'm wrapping up the loose plot
threads and making a great big yarnball! This is the heavy-handed
exposition chapter, so not much goofy stuff happens here, unfortunately.
But I hope my explanation for the SIRS seems at least a little plausible.
And contrary to what all this might have made you think, I don't despise
the Tallest or anything, I just think they're a little too goofy to be
running things for real. So who does that leave? Well, with all the
technology the Irkens depend on for nearly everything, it didn't seem like
such a stretch to me to have the SIR units (or at least a few of them)
running things from behind the scenes. If this were the typical "Zim goes
to get revenge" story, there'd be a huge fight scene and a lot of stuff
blowing up.. but it isn't so instead you're getting three weird little
robots!
And thank you one last time to the reviewers! Kami and Daegon, PRHG, Joyous Garde, Ivory, Sanely Challenged, B, and Kat23a. Thanks for your feedback on how the story was progressing coming down to the end here. And Kat… there is now an entire version of Dib singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning". How's that for worrisome? If I get around to doing an Oklahoma parody, maybe you'll get to see it, lol. Alright, enough of my blabbing, here's the last chapter and epilougue.
Chapter Ten: SIR, the great and powerful
"Say wha?" Red asked, unimpressed. Purple nodded. "We're the Tallest. WE rule the Irken Empire. Everyone knows that." Red gestured grandiosely. "And everyone lives in awe of our incredible tallness! For we are inspiring to behold in our great height!"
"Oh please…" a disgusted amber-eyed SIR gagged. "Let's tell them their leaders are chosen by height! Great idea Operational Director 3." The offended-seeming unit to its left sneered. "I was only kidding about that really! Who'd have thought they'd have been stupid enough to go for it, anyway?"
Not willing to be outdone, Zim pointed at the stubby robots. "Aha, just as I suspected!" The Membrane siblings groaned in disgust. "Yeah, right Zim." Dib muttered. "You really expect us to buy that?" Zim fidgeted. "Well, I knew someone else was really running Irk… does that count?" he smiled hopefully. "We'll give you half credit." Operational Director 2 replied. "Yes!" Zim cried gleefully. "The sweet crunch of victory that never goes soggy in milk is MINE!"
The first SIR sighed heavily. "Long ago, we SIRS were created to basically run the Empire because it had gotten too big and complex for living creatures to correctly manage it." Unit number One giggled strangely and waved little "#1" flags. "We rule! We rule!" The second and third units paused to give each other a look. "Unit One was our prototype." Red yawned conspicuously. "Is it supposed to be.." he trailed off, recalling a conversation much like this one from about a decade ago. "He's not stupid, he's advanced." Unit Three replied steadily, giving the uppity Irken a knowing electronic look.
"You're kidding." Purple stated bluntly, narrowing his violet eyes. "Of course not. Only the most advanced android is capable of recognizing and computing chaos variables." Two affirmed. "Obviously even One can't see all the factors, and chaos by its very nature is difficult to rationalize, but thanks to Unit One's expert guidance, we have now kept the Empire of Irk stable and in control for half a millennia. When the first great leader of Irk, Vazel the Easily Irritated began to forge the Empire in earnest, it was with the use of technology. Artificial enhancements, incredible weapons, and even spaceships to seize off-world territory. And when he knew his time was coming to an end, we were created to keep running things for him." Its metal chest puffed slightly with pride. "After all, why do you think you have to call us 'Sir?' It's a title, not just a coincidental acronym."
"I like pie!" Unit One cheered gloriously.
GIR lept forward awkwardly on his slightly precarious legs. "I like cupcakes! And tuna! And the Scary Monkey Show! I can be a kitty! Oo! And check'a this out!" The robot began to dance wildly around the room singing a scat-like impromptu song about being small, furry and feathered as the rest of the group looked on.
"Red?"
"Yeah Purple?"
"My head really hurts."
"Me too."
Finally GIR's capering came to an end as he overbalanced and fell into an awkward heap on the floor. "Aw man, I gotted a boo-boo. Master Zim! Kiss it 'n make it better-er!" Zim stood his ground, eyeing his SIR unit speculatively. "Soo.. GIR is really advanced after all…" Units Two and Three nodded appreciatively. "I'd estimate he could be almost as advanced as Unit One."
"Wait! Wait just a minute!" Purple cried, stepping forward and looking as sternly irritated as he could manage. "How can the prototype be more advanced than the subsequent units? Huh?" "Because it can self-update, duh." Unit Two said, sounding a little bit envious. "Yeah, dummy!" Three added, giving Purple a sound kick in the hoverunit. "Yow!" Purple whined, retreating back a few steps to the relative safety of being out of reach of the robots' short legs.
Unit Two made a placatory wave towards Three. "We shouldn't be too hard on them," he insisted. "After all, they're really not that smart." Three grinned maliciously. "Of course not. They thought that sitting around eating junk food, ordering a few people around and watching galactic cable really meant they were running the Empire!" Unit One looked up from playing with the top-most layer of gauzy material that made up Gaz's skirt. "Wheee…" it sang happily. GIR scrambled to its feet and joined the other "fun" robot in chasing around the humans and master Zim playing tag.
"I must admit," Zim finally said, "This does… strange dizzy things to my plans of vengeance." He frowned again after a moment's reflection. "Wait, then you're the ones with the answers. If it wasn't all just random, why did you make me so… short!?" Unit Two reached down and pushed some buttons on his datapad. "Well, it's not too easy to say for sure. I'll start running some numbers and see what I can hypothesize that could explain the reduced rate in terms that are applicable to the.."
"ME!" Zim suddenly screeched, "What about Ziiiiim!?" Units Two and Three glanced at each other, then back up at the irate irken. "Well… there could have been a glitch somewhere. You should have been taller than you were originally as an Invader." Three stared up at Zim. "He's tall now. Wowza." Two nodded appreciatively. "It's incredible. You're taller now than we would have thought possible. Your time on One's mystery world has done incredible things for you." "I still can't believe there was really a planet there." Three grumbled. "Oh be quiet. So you lost the bet, just get over it!" Two muttered.
Zim blinked, not sure what to say. "I was… supposed to be tall?" he finally stuttered, gazing down at the robots in confusion. "But… Hey! You're supposed to be running things faultlessly! How could there have been a glitch!?" Unit Two sighed. "We're less fallible than organics, but we're not perfect, I'm sorry to say. But really Zim, would your height mean as much to you if you'd just been granted it arbitrarily as it does now when you've earned every inch of it? Surviving, adapting, and learning aren't things that can be taught, but you've become an impressive creature since you quit your banishment to Foodcourtia." Three grinned again. "You're less frail than the average irken, you're dedicated and loyal… and you've shown incredible abilities. We might even go so far as to say you're… advanced."
GIR latched his exhausted metal body onto Zim's leg and looked earnestly up at his bewildered master. "I'm tiiiiired, Master. Can we go home and watch the Scary Monkey Show?" Dib brushed the last dried out aerosol cheese out of his hair. "I wonder if Mysterious Mysteries is still in production? It'd be coming on tonight if it were…" "I miss my Game Slave.." Gaz sighed softly, picking up Unit One from where it had plopped down on her boot.
Unit One's eyes lit up abnormally. "You go to Earth? Get Hazzo, ruler of thinsulate sandwich wrappers! Not available in stores!" Zim blinked and patted GIR on the head. "You're almost comprehensible compared to that." GIR beamed proudly. Unit Two gasped in understanding. "That's perfect! We don't have a control and monitor unit in that sector of space, we didn't even know the Earth existed for certain until ten years ago. Before that, it was just a doodle on a sticky note based on One's projections. If you want to return to Earth, Zim, we'll make you our resident officer of that galaxy. We need someone with initiative and perceptiveness to help us keep track of the outer territories."
Zim's crimson eyes widened slightly at the offer of such a high position. "There is just one more thing I'd like to know first," he admitted. "The Tallest, how are they really chosen? Why them?" Unit One reached from its perch in Gaz's arms to pull on Zim's sleeve. "Mushrooms." It whispered softly. Unit Three hovered up to Zim's other side on its jets. "And because as young irkens they showed the right qualities not to wonder about the position. Arrogance, sloth, lack of curiousity… So we just gave them the "Tallest Treatment" to stimulate their growth a bit. We have two this time because One said the rubber chickens demanded it." The three small robots shrugged in unison before returning their attention to the reinstated irken. "So what do you say, Zim?" Unit Two asked pointedly. Zim grinned broadly.
"Hey, what about us?" Dib demanded. "We're not going to sit still for Earth being conquered by aliens!" Zim crossed his arms. "Yes you will, I'll get the rope." Gaz snickered. Unit Three sighed. "We don't need the Earth, we'd just like to observe it. From Zim's reports, it looks like a wealth of random factors." Two put in. "We'll just make it a protectorate so Planet Jackers don't try hauling it off again." Three added, giving Dib an annoyed look. "You two can be Zim's assistants or official ambassadors or something if you want. Enforcing control over a newly-designated territory can be much more dangerous than the actual invasion." Dib opened his mouth to scream "NEVER!" defiantly, just as Gaz said "Cool."
Red whimpered unhappily. "But what about us?" Purple patted his cohort on the shoulder consolingly. "The citizens of the Empire would freak completely if they knew we were running things." Three scoffed. "So you two can go on eating nachos and pretending to run things while we do all the real work." "YES!" the Tallest cheered in delight.
Snalz sat down heavily in the floor. "Now my head hurts." She complained. "I guess we ought to do something for them to keep them from spreading this story." Unit Two admitted, nodded in the direction of the two enforcers. Three smiled. "We give them their old jobs back without cutting their pay?" Two frowned. "Too risky. Hm… how about we give them new jobs as orbit patrolling officers?" Snalz's eyes lit up and Quev grinned hugely at the idea of getting off planetside for their duty for a change. The two Enforcers smiled at each other. "I think we could work with that." Snalz responded smoothly.
Unit Two pulled a remote control out of a cavity it its chest and pushed a prominent red button. "I'll just turn off the mechanical howler leech, and we can start arranging things." "You mean it's a fake?" Quev cried incredulously. "We just keep it around to keep people from poking around where we don't want them going." Three shrugged. "And you can't say that no one would fall for such a ridiculous idea… Can you?" the robot asked pointedly as Quev and Dib coughed in embarrassment. "I er… knew it all the time. Really." Zim sputtered.
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Epilogue: Back to Abnormal
Professor Membrane's head surfaced from the gloomy depths of his lab. He'd been experimenting with an oxygen substitute and time had gotten away from him. Now he could hear the phone insistently ringing. He finally located the device and raised it to his ear just in time for the caller to hang up. "Drats. Note to self, invent self-sufficient cordless phone. It finds you when it rings so that you don't have to find it." He muttered to himself. "Hm, wonder where the kids are?" he suddenly asked himself. A trip through the house revealed nothing unordinary except the lack of his children and a huge pile of mail which the collection device had spilled all over the front hallway.
Investigation of the large package stamped prominently with the names of approximately fifteen different countries and a frustrated note from the delivery man about the overdue C.O.D. charges revealed, mysteriously enough, his daughter's favorite device of amusement. There were fan letters, notices that his old tv show was being considered for syndication, and a large official-looking letter from the High School informing him that since neither he nor his children had been seen or heard from in a year's time, they had been unofficially declared victims of some sort of experiment, perhaps an interdimensional gateway generator. Consequently, he had been dropped from the school faculty and Gaz and Dib, if they regenerated, would have to retake the school year in order to receive credit for the classwork they missed. The letter then assured whoever was reading it that it was sent as an official formality and the balance pending on his pay would be available to any survivors that surfaced in the next seven years before being used to fund a project to teach a group of psychotic lemurs to re-roof the library. Professor Membrane shrugged and tossed the notice in his "Things to do when I get around to it" mail basket.
The loss of the position didn't concern him very much. Truthfully it had gotten old after the first few months, trying to teach students who didn't want to do anything but sleep or throw paper wads at their classmates. And then there was that astronomy lab where they kept asking him about "Uranus"… Anyway, there was more serious work that laboratories worldwide were literally begging for him to come assist with.
The thing that really worried him at this precise moment in time was the truancy of his two offspring. If he surfaced from the uncharted depths of his lab and his children weren't there to either demand quality time or outside verification of UFOs, it probably meant something was wrong.
No sooner had the thought to look outside and see if the two teenagers were perhaps out engaged in some sort of activity in the small front yard than the door swung open and his two missing persons entered, looking distinctly surprised to see him there. Almost as if they thought they'd just been caught doing something.
"Well, well." Membrane muttered, for no other reason than because he couldn't think of anything else to say and 'well well' sounded appropriate to the situation. "Uh, hi Dad." Dib stammered nervously. "I was just thinking that when I found you I should ask you where you've been." Their father said casually, "According to the statement I've received from the school, you've both been exceptionally tardy. You missed first hour by about 365 days or so." Dib scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Well… uh… Y'see… We've been on Zim's pl... Uh, AT Zim's." the older sibling improvised a half-lie quickly.
"For a whole year? What in the name of Clarke's law were you doing all that time?" Dib glanced at his sister, who had discovered her lonely GameSlave sitting on the coffee table and was immersed in some digital world, saving it from doom. Well, no help was coming from there… Better think of an excuse, he thought to himself. "Er… we were watching tv?"
"For a whole year?" his father repeated, a slightly impatient tone creeping into his collar-muffled voice.
"It was a Mysterious Mysteries marathon. On pay satellite. Uh, Bigfoot was hosting!" Dib frantically embellished. He could feel a nervous sweat attempting to break over his forehead as Professor Membrane considered his sons story.
"Oh, okay then. Make sure you catch up on all the work you missed at school."
Dib fought to keep his jaw from hitting the floor as his father turned around and headed back towards the laboratory he maintained under the house. "I can't believe he bought that story!" he gaped as Gaz sighed in bored resignation. "No kidding. He knows I hate that show. Why would I go watch it?" she replied. "And ask Zim how he's handling that intolerance to water, would you?" Their father suddenly called back to them. "I'm curious as to how his biology handles our humid atmosphere!" Dib and Gaz paled and stared at each other. "He knows!" they mouthed in unison.
Zim admired his handiwork as his holographic house flickered back into existence, this time much closer to the Membrane's home. It would be much more convenient to contact them now. They'd all be working together soon, after all. GIR jumped up and down excitedly, clapping the paws of his puppy disguise together in glee. "Let's do it again, Master! Only with bacon!" he requested. Zim shook his head lightly, "Maybe later, GIR. Just now, we must prepare for tomorrow night!"
Gir ceased its frenetic leaping and turned to face the disguised alien. "When we try to take over the world?" he asked expectantly. "No GIR. Tomorrow night we establish our control over this entire sector! Yeeesssssss!" GIR squealed giddily in response as Zim stretched his S's into a threatening hiss.
Abruptly, the robot stopped running. "But where will we get a duck and a hose at this hour, Master?" Zim's antennae twitched in annoyance. As he moved to enter their counterfeit domicile, GIR skipped happily along after him, singing.
"We're Master and the GIR… We're Master and the GIR…
Master's not quite sane, and IIIII got lime green fur!"
"Hey!" Zim objected, slamming the door after the tiny robot.
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Special Operations Enforcer Snalz watched the endless stars through the window of the small vehicle that served as her new home away from home. She decided that her life had changed very little since the discovery that the Empire was run by deranged robots. She still had a job that she didn't especially like, even though it had come with a higher rank and more perks. Her partner was still a semi-competent coward.
She shot a magenta look in Quev's direction and discovered he was fast asleep in his chair, curled up like a small child as he mumbled about vampire pipe cleaners.
Snalz mentally corrected herself. Her partner was still a paranoid semi- competent coward. But at least out here in the primary patrol and detainment perimeter around Irk, she could get away from all the idiots back down there on Irk. Now she was stuck with just one idiot in a small, confined space for lengthy period of time.
Quev turned in his sleep, and one of his hands swung out and slapped an activation button. As the hyperspace engines began to activate and drone their distinctive whine of channeled power became audible, Snalz leaned back in her seat and put her feet up on the console. "But at least life makes sense now…" she sighed in resignation, still thinking of the erratic robots who were running her life and most of the known universe as the ship vanished from Irken space, bound for parts unknown.
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"I said take it back to the kitchen and do it over again!" Red nearly screamed at a cowering server, tossing a plate of fried cheese and sauce at the terrified Irken angrily. "You can't get good snack food these days…" Purple mumbled sympathetically around a mouthful of hot, buttered popcorn. "I think we're pretty impressive, you know that?" Purple continued, swallowing. "Huh?" Red asked dully, giving his full attention for once to his counterpart for something other than an argument.
"Think about it," Purple urged him. "We're in charge of fooling an entire Empire into believing that the SIRs are mindless assistant slave-bots. We've got to convince everyone that we are the ruthless, angry dictators of this entire civilization. Those robots NEED us."
Red mulled that idea over, scratching his chin as he concentrated. "Yeah… I think you're right." He grinned broadly. "Wanna go have a surprise inspection on planet Cineplexia?" Purple yawned thoughtfully. "What's playing?"
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And so it went. Routines were resumed or established anew as each of them adjusted to their new perception of the universe.. or at least, the Irken Empire.
"Dib, what makes you think we need a "team name"?" Zim asked, genuinely curious as to how the brain inside his former rival's over-sized skull worked. Dib flailed his arms wildly in response as he attempted to explain. "Because we have to call ourselves something! And it should sound really cool!" "Why?" Zim repeated. "Because otherwise there's no point!" Dib screamed angrily.
"But why would we call ourselves the Sector Enforcement Men in Black?" Zim insisted, waving his own arms in challenge to Dib's own wild gesturing. "Well, because we all wear black, don't we?" Dib pointed out, proud of his reasoning.
"I'm not a man." Gaz interjected, crossing her arms at the obviousness of her statement. "Well, fine… but except for you…" her brother began. "I'm not really one either if you think about it." Zim put in, cocking his head to the side like a baffled puppy. "I'm irken." "Okay, okay, but.." Zim cut him off again before he could continue, "And neither is GIR, for that matter. You're the only one that moniker could work for."
"Fine, fine, so we'll be the MAN in Black Plus Three!" Dib shouted, his voice hoarse with irritation. "Plus three what?" GIR asked, blinking his bright cyan eyes in innocent confusion. Dib fumed quietly for a moment before responding. "Fine! Then YOU pick a name!"
GIR grinned hugely, delighted with the game. "OKAY! We shall be…" he posed dramatically like a martial arts expert, "BOK CHOY!" Stunned silence followed the announcement. "Now my head's beginning to hurt." Dib grumbled. "I'll go order you a dozen kilograms of aspirin." Gaz whispered over- loudly. "MY HEAD ISN'T THAT BIG!" Dib screamed, and began to chase his sister around the room screeching murderously. Zim leaned back against the wall and smiled to himself. Dib standing up for himself? A purpose again to life on Earth? Bok Choy? This would be a brave new world for all of them. Advanced, or otherwise.
GIR approached his master with a large bowl of chocolate pudding. "Y'know Master, the universe is like pudding. If it just sits around, it settles and gets icky and no one wants it. Ya gotta keep stirring it up with randomness to keep it good!" As the robot illustrated this with a large spoon, Zim stared at his partner in astonishment. Somehow, that almost made sense.
The End
And thank you one last time to the reviewers! Kami and Daegon, PRHG, Joyous Garde, Ivory, Sanely Challenged, B, and Kat23a. Thanks for your feedback on how the story was progressing coming down to the end here. And Kat… there is now an entire version of Dib singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning". How's that for worrisome? If I get around to doing an Oklahoma parody, maybe you'll get to see it, lol. Alright, enough of my blabbing, here's the last chapter and epilougue.
Chapter Ten: SIR, the great and powerful
"Say wha?" Red asked, unimpressed. Purple nodded. "We're the Tallest. WE rule the Irken Empire. Everyone knows that." Red gestured grandiosely. "And everyone lives in awe of our incredible tallness! For we are inspiring to behold in our great height!"
"Oh please…" a disgusted amber-eyed SIR gagged. "Let's tell them their leaders are chosen by height! Great idea Operational Director 3." The offended-seeming unit to its left sneered. "I was only kidding about that really! Who'd have thought they'd have been stupid enough to go for it, anyway?"
Not willing to be outdone, Zim pointed at the stubby robots. "Aha, just as I suspected!" The Membrane siblings groaned in disgust. "Yeah, right Zim." Dib muttered. "You really expect us to buy that?" Zim fidgeted. "Well, I knew someone else was really running Irk… does that count?" he smiled hopefully. "We'll give you half credit." Operational Director 2 replied. "Yes!" Zim cried gleefully. "The sweet crunch of victory that never goes soggy in milk is MINE!"
The first SIR sighed heavily. "Long ago, we SIRS were created to basically run the Empire because it had gotten too big and complex for living creatures to correctly manage it." Unit number One giggled strangely and waved little "#1" flags. "We rule! We rule!" The second and third units paused to give each other a look. "Unit One was our prototype." Red yawned conspicuously. "Is it supposed to be.." he trailed off, recalling a conversation much like this one from about a decade ago. "He's not stupid, he's advanced." Unit Three replied steadily, giving the uppity Irken a knowing electronic look.
"You're kidding." Purple stated bluntly, narrowing his violet eyes. "Of course not. Only the most advanced android is capable of recognizing and computing chaos variables." Two affirmed. "Obviously even One can't see all the factors, and chaos by its very nature is difficult to rationalize, but thanks to Unit One's expert guidance, we have now kept the Empire of Irk stable and in control for half a millennia. When the first great leader of Irk, Vazel the Easily Irritated began to forge the Empire in earnest, it was with the use of technology. Artificial enhancements, incredible weapons, and even spaceships to seize off-world territory. And when he knew his time was coming to an end, we were created to keep running things for him." Its metal chest puffed slightly with pride. "After all, why do you think you have to call us 'Sir?' It's a title, not just a coincidental acronym."
"I like pie!" Unit One cheered gloriously.
GIR lept forward awkwardly on his slightly precarious legs. "I like cupcakes! And tuna! And the Scary Monkey Show! I can be a kitty! Oo! And check'a this out!" The robot began to dance wildly around the room singing a scat-like impromptu song about being small, furry and feathered as the rest of the group looked on.
"Red?"
"Yeah Purple?"
"My head really hurts."
"Me too."
Finally GIR's capering came to an end as he overbalanced and fell into an awkward heap on the floor. "Aw man, I gotted a boo-boo. Master Zim! Kiss it 'n make it better-er!" Zim stood his ground, eyeing his SIR unit speculatively. "Soo.. GIR is really advanced after all…" Units Two and Three nodded appreciatively. "I'd estimate he could be almost as advanced as Unit One."
"Wait! Wait just a minute!" Purple cried, stepping forward and looking as sternly irritated as he could manage. "How can the prototype be more advanced than the subsequent units? Huh?" "Because it can self-update, duh." Unit Two said, sounding a little bit envious. "Yeah, dummy!" Three added, giving Purple a sound kick in the hoverunit. "Yow!" Purple whined, retreating back a few steps to the relative safety of being out of reach of the robots' short legs.
Unit Two made a placatory wave towards Three. "We shouldn't be too hard on them," he insisted. "After all, they're really not that smart." Three grinned maliciously. "Of course not. They thought that sitting around eating junk food, ordering a few people around and watching galactic cable really meant they were running the Empire!" Unit One looked up from playing with the top-most layer of gauzy material that made up Gaz's skirt. "Wheee…" it sang happily. GIR scrambled to its feet and joined the other "fun" robot in chasing around the humans and master Zim playing tag.
"I must admit," Zim finally said, "This does… strange dizzy things to my plans of vengeance." He frowned again after a moment's reflection. "Wait, then you're the ones with the answers. If it wasn't all just random, why did you make me so… short!?" Unit Two reached down and pushed some buttons on his datapad. "Well, it's not too easy to say for sure. I'll start running some numbers and see what I can hypothesize that could explain the reduced rate in terms that are applicable to the.."
"ME!" Zim suddenly screeched, "What about Ziiiiim!?" Units Two and Three glanced at each other, then back up at the irate irken. "Well… there could have been a glitch somewhere. You should have been taller than you were originally as an Invader." Three stared up at Zim. "He's tall now. Wowza." Two nodded appreciatively. "It's incredible. You're taller now than we would have thought possible. Your time on One's mystery world has done incredible things for you." "I still can't believe there was really a planet there." Three grumbled. "Oh be quiet. So you lost the bet, just get over it!" Two muttered.
Zim blinked, not sure what to say. "I was… supposed to be tall?" he finally stuttered, gazing down at the robots in confusion. "But… Hey! You're supposed to be running things faultlessly! How could there have been a glitch!?" Unit Two sighed. "We're less fallible than organics, but we're not perfect, I'm sorry to say. But really Zim, would your height mean as much to you if you'd just been granted it arbitrarily as it does now when you've earned every inch of it? Surviving, adapting, and learning aren't things that can be taught, but you've become an impressive creature since you quit your banishment to Foodcourtia." Three grinned again. "You're less frail than the average irken, you're dedicated and loyal… and you've shown incredible abilities. We might even go so far as to say you're… advanced."
GIR latched his exhausted metal body onto Zim's leg and looked earnestly up at his bewildered master. "I'm tiiiiired, Master. Can we go home and watch the Scary Monkey Show?" Dib brushed the last dried out aerosol cheese out of his hair. "I wonder if Mysterious Mysteries is still in production? It'd be coming on tonight if it were…" "I miss my Game Slave.." Gaz sighed softly, picking up Unit One from where it had plopped down on her boot.
Unit One's eyes lit up abnormally. "You go to Earth? Get Hazzo, ruler of thinsulate sandwich wrappers! Not available in stores!" Zim blinked and patted GIR on the head. "You're almost comprehensible compared to that." GIR beamed proudly. Unit Two gasped in understanding. "That's perfect! We don't have a control and monitor unit in that sector of space, we didn't even know the Earth existed for certain until ten years ago. Before that, it was just a doodle on a sticky note based on One's projections. If you want to return to Earth, Zim, we'll make you our resident officer of that galaxy. We need someone with initiative and perceptiveness to help us keep track of the outer territories."
Zim's crimson eyes widened slightly at the offer of such a high position. "There is just one more thing I'd like to know first," he admitted. "The Tallest, how are they really chosen? Why them?" Unit One reached from its perch in Gaz's arms to pull on Zim's sleeve. "Mushrooms." It whispered softly. Unit Three hovered up to Zim's other side on its jets. "And because as young irkens they showed the right qualities not to wonder about the position. Arrogance, sloth, lack of curiousity… So we just gave them the "Tallest Treatment" to stimulate their growth a bit. We have two this time because One said the rubber chickens demanded it." The three small robots shrugged in unison before returning their attention to the reinstated irken. "So what do you say, Zim?" Unit Two asked pointedly. Zim grinned broadly.
"Hey, what about us?" Dib demanded. "We're not going to sit still for Earth being conquered by aliens!" Zim crossed his arms. "Yes you will, I'll get the rope." Gaz snickered. Unit Three sighed. "We don't need the Earth, we'd just like to observe it. From Zim's reports, it looks like a wealth of random factors." Two put in. "We'll just make it a protectorate so Planet Jackers don't try hauling it off again." Three added, giving Dib an annoyed look. "You two can be Zim's assistants or official ambassadors or something if you want. Enforcing control over a newly-designated territory can be much more dangerous than the actual invasion." Dib opened his mouth to scream "NEVER!" defiantly, just as Gaz said "Cool."
Red whimpered unhappily. "But what about us?" Purple patted his cohort on the shoulder consolingly. "The citizens of the Empire would freak completely if they knew we were running things." Three scoffed. "So you two can go on eating nachos and pretending to run things while we do all the real work." "YES!" the Tallest cheered in delight.
Snalz sat down heavily in the floor. "Now my head hurts." She complained. "I guess we ought to do something for them to keep them from spreading this story." Unit Two admitted, nodded in the direction of the two enforcers. Three smiled. "We give them their old jobs back without cutting their pay?" Two frowned. "Too risky. Hm… how about we give them new jobs as orbit patrolling officers?" Snalz's eyes lit up and Quev grinned hugely at the idea of getting off planetside for their duty for a change. The two Enforcers smiled at each other. "I think we could work with that." Snalz responded smoothly.
Unit Two pulled a remote control out of a cavity it its chest and pushed a prominent red button. "I'll just turn off the mechanical howler leech, and we can start arranging things." "You mean it's a fake?" Quev cried incredulously. "We just keep it around to keep people from poking around where we don't want them going." Three shrugged. "And you can't say that no one would fall for such a ridiculous idea… Can you?" the robot asked pointedly as Quev and Dib coughed in embarrassment. "I er… knew it all the time. Really." Zim sputtered.
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Epilogue: Back to Abnormal
Professor Membrane's head surfaced from the gloomy depths of his lab. He'd been experimenting with an oxygen substitute and time had gotten away from him. Now he could hear the phone insistently ringing. He finally located the device and raised it to his ear just in time for the caller to hang up. "Drats. Note to self, invent self-sufficient cordless phone. It finds you when it rings so that you don't have to find it." He muttered to himself. "Hm, wonder where the kids are?" he suddenly asked himself. A trip through the house revealed nothing unordinary except the lack of his children and a huge pile of mail which the collection device had spilled all over the front hallway.
Investigation of the large package stamped prominently with the names of approximately fifteen different countries and a frustrated note from the delivery man about the overdue C.O.D. charges revealed, mysteriously enough, his daughter's favorite device of amusement. There were fan letters, notices that his old tv show was being considered for syndication, and a large official-looking letter from the High School informing him that since neither he nor his children had been seen or heard from in a year's time, they had been unofficially declared victims of some sort of experiment, perhaps an interdimensional gateway generator. Consequently, he had been dropped from the school faculty and Gaz and Dib, if they regenerated, would have to retake the school year in order to receive credit for the classwork they missed. The letter then assured whoever was reading it that it was sent as an official formality and the balance pending on his pay would be available to any survivors that surfaced in the next seven years before being used to fund a project to teach a group of psychotic lemurs to re-roof the library. Professor Membrane shrugged and tossed the notice in his "Things to do when I get around to it" mail basket.
The loss of the position didn't concern him very much. Truthfully it had gotten old after the first few months, trying to teach students who didn't want to do anything but sleep or throw paper wads at their classmates. And then there was that astronomy lab where they kept asking him about "Uranus"… Anyway, there was more serious work that laboratories worldwide were literally begging for him to come assist with.
The thing that really worried him at this precise moment in time was the truancy of his two offspring. If he surfaced from the uncharted depths of his lab and his children weren't there to either demand quality time or outside verification of UFOs, it probably meant something was wrong.
No sooner had the thought to look outside and see if the two teenagers were perhaps out engaged in some sort of activity in the small front yard than the door swung open and his two missing persons entered, looking distinctly surprised to see him there. Almost as if they thought they'd just been caught doing something.
"Well, well." Membrane muttered, for no other reason than because he couldn't think of anything else to say and 'well well' sounded appropriate to the situation. "Uh, hi Dad." Dib stammered nervously. "I was just thinking that when I found you I should ask you where you've been." Their father said casually, "According to the statement I've received from the school, you've both been exceptionally tardy. You missed first hour by about 365 days or so." Dib scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Well… uh… Y'see… We've been on Zim's pl... Uh, AT Zim's." the older sibling improvised a half-lie quickly.
"For a whole year? What in the name of Clarke's law were you doing all that time?" Dib glanced at his sister, who had discovered her lonely GameSlave sitting on the coffee table and was immersed in some digital world, saving it from doom. Well, no help was coming from there… Better think of an excuse, he thought to himself. "Er… we were watching tv?"
"For a whole year?" his father repeated, a slightly impatient tone creeping into his collar-muffled voice.
"It was a Mysterious Mysteries marathon. On pay satellite. Uh, Bigfoot was hosting!" Dib frantically embellished. He could feel a nervous sweat attempting to break over his forehead as Professor Membrane considered his sons story.
"Oh, okay then. Make sure you catch up on all the work you missed at school."
Dib fought to keep his jaw from hitting the floor as his father turned around and headed back towards the laboratory he maintained under the house. "I can't believe he bought that story!" he gaped as Gaz sighed in bored resignation. "No kidding. He knows I hate that show. Why would I go watch it?" she replied. "And ask Zim how he's handling that intolerance to water, would you?" Their father suddenly called back to them. "I'm curious as to how his biology handles our humid atmosphere!" Dib and Gaz paled and stared at each other. "He knows!" they mouthed in unison.
Zim admired his handiwork as his holographic house flickered back into existence, this time much closer to the Membrane's home. It would be much more convenient to contact them now. They'd all be working together soon, after all. GIR jumped up and down excitedly, clapping the paws of his puppy disguise together in glee. "Let's do it again, Master! Only with bacon!" he requested. Zim shook his head lightly, "Maybe later, GIR. Just now, we must prepare for tomorrow night!"
Gir ceased its frenetic leaping and turned to face the disguised alien. "When we try to take over the world?" he asked expectantly. "No GIR. Tomorrow night we establish our control over this entire sector! Yeeesssssss!" GIR squealed giddily in response as Zim stretched his S's into a threatening hiss.
Abruptly, the robot stopped running. "But where will we get a duck and a hose at this hour, Master?" Zim's antennae twitched in annoyance. As he moved to enter their counterfeit domicile, GIR skipped happily along after him, singing.
"We're Master and the GIR… We're Master and the GIR…
Master's not quite sane, and IIIII got lime green fur!"
"Hey!" Zim objected, slamming the door after the tiny robot.
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Special Operations Enforcer Snalz watched the endless stars through the window of the small vehicle that served as her new home away from home. She decided that her life had changed very little since the discovery that the Empire was run by deranged robots. She still had a job that she didn't especially like, even though it had come with a higher rank and more perks. Her partner was still a semi-competent coward.
She shot a magenta look in Quev's direction and discovered he was fast asleep in his chair, curled up like a small child as he mumbled about vampire pipe cleaners.
Snalz mentally corrected herself. Her partner was still a paranoid semi- competent coward. But at least out here in the primary patrol and detainment perimeter around Irk, she could get away from all the idiots back down there on Irk. Now she was stuck with just one idiot in a small, confined space for lengthy period of time.
Quev turned in his sleep, and one of his hands swung out and slapped an activation button. As the hyperspace engines began to activate and drone their distinctive whine of channeled power became audible, Snalz leaned back in her seat and put her feet up on the console. "But at least life makes sense now…" she sighed in resignation, still thinking of the erratic robots who were running her life and most of the known universe as the ship vanished from Irken space, bound for parts unknown.
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"I said take it back to the kitchen and do it over again!" Red nearly screamed at a cowering server, tossing a plate of fried cheese and sauce at the terrified Irken angrily. "You can't get good snack food these days…" Purple mumbled sympathetically around a mouthful of hot, buttered popcorn. "I think we're pretty impressive, you know that?" Purple continued, swallowing. "Huh?" Red asked dully, giving his full attention for once to his counterpart for something other than an argument.
"Think about it," Purple urged him. "We're in charge of fooling an entire Empire into believing that the SIRs are mindless assistant slave-bots. We've got to convince everyone that we are the ruthless, angry dictators of this entire civilization. Those robots NEED us."
Red mulled that idea over, scratching his chin as he concentrated. "Yeah… I think you're right." He grinned broadly. "Wanna go have a surprise inspection on planet Cineplexia?" Purple yawned thoughtfully. "What's playing?"
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And so it went. Routines were resumed or established anew as each of them adjusted to their new perception of the universe.. or at least, the Irken Empire.
"Dib, what makes you think we need a "team name"?" Zim asked, genuinely curious as to how the brain inside his former rival's over-sized skull worked. Dib flailed his arms wildly in response as he attempted to explain. "Because we have to call ourselves something! And it should sound really cool!" "Why?" Zim repeated. "Because otherwise there's no point!" Dib screamed angrily.
"But why would we call ourselves the Sector Enforcement Men in Black?" Zim insisted, waving his own arms in challenge to Dib's own wild gesturing. "Well, because we all wear black, don't we?" Dib pointed out, proud of his reasoning.
"I'm not a man." Gaz interjected, crossing her arms at the obviousness of her statement. "Well, fine… but except for you…" her brother began. "I'm not really one either if you think about it." Zim put in, cocking his head to the side like a baffled puppy. "I'm irken." "Okay, okay, but.." Zim cut him off again before he could continue, "And neither is GIR, for that matter. You're the only one that moniker could work for."
"Fine, fine, so we'll be the MAN in Black Plus Three!" Dib shouted, his voice hoarse with irritation. "Plus three what?" GIR asked, blinking his bright cyan eyes in innocent confusion. Dib fumed quietly for a moment before responding. "Fine! Then YOU pick a name!"
GIR grinned hugely, delighted with the game. "OKAY! We shall be…" he posed dramatically like a martial arts expert, "BOK CHOY!" Stunned silence followed the announcement. "Now my head's beginning to hurt." Dib grumbled. "I'll go order you a dozen kilograms of aspirin." Gaz whispered over- loudly. "MY HEAD ISN'T THAT BIG!" Dib screamed, and began to chase his sister around the room screeching murderously. Zim leaned back against the wall and smiled to himself. Dib standing up for himself? A purpose again to life on Earth? Bok Choy? This would be a brave new world for all of them. Advanced, or otherwise.
GIR approached his master with a large bowl of chocolate pudding. "Y'know Master, the universe is like pudding. If it just sits around, it settles and gets icky and no one wants it. Ya gotta keep stirring it up with randomness to keep it good!" As the robot illustrated this with a large spoon, Zim stared at his partner in astonishment. Somehow, that almost made sense.
The End