Our Purpose

Chapter 3

Zim heard the heavy footsteps of Professor Membrane making their way to the kitchen. He inhaled nervously, trying to wriggle his way out of the wires. 

If Membrane found out about him, it'd be over. He'd surely be killed and put on a dissection table.

At that moment, Zim felt deep, blatant fear. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to be killed just for this planet's stupid version of science. But no matter how much he tried to wriggle or activate his PAK, he couldn't. He was stuck; his nemesis would finally win and-

Membrane walked into the room, looking over at Zim, who was desperately trying to calm his hurried breathing. The professor stared for a moment in silence, frowning, before calmly walking over to the alien and leaning down to be at eye level with him. 

"Here again, Zim?" He asked.

Zim blinked. Was the Professor stupid like the rest of Earth? He'd always thought the man was extremely smart, but here Zim was, no disguise whatsoever, and Membrane didn't even seem surprised. Not only this, but his wig was even sitting across from the table in plain view. 

Zim couldn't read the taller man's expression; he couldn't see the Professor's mouth or eyes so he couldn't tell what he was thinking. The alien just silently stared at Professor Membrane, afraid and unknowing of what to say. 

The taller man just sighed, moving over to the homemade PAK and picking it up.

He moved back over to the table and set the PAK down, unhooking the grapple from its spot lodged into the wire. Zim was confused. He was so obviously an alien. Even Zim's neighbors, who couldn't drink water properly to save their lives, would say that he was an alien when they saw him without his disguise, yet here was, perhaps the smartest man on this filthy planet, and he didn't bat an eye toward Zim's appearance.

Instead, the man untied him and picked up Dib's PAK once again, recalling the grappling hook back into the device. He glanced down at Zim afterward, who was wordlessly sitting in the kitchen chair.

"Well?" The Professor started. "Get going!" 

In response, Zim slid off the chair and quickly moved to the exit of the kitchen before stopping and looking back at the scientist, genuinely confused.

"Why did you free me?" Zim asked, desperately wanting to know. 

The Professor watched him silently for a moment, as if contemplating telling the Irken why.

"I can't have you exposing yourself to the world. That would ruin everything I have planned!" Dib's father responded, scientifically. 

Zim furrowed his eyebrows, confounded. As he heard footsteps descending the stairs, though, Zim turned to run out. 

However, he turned right back around as he realized he'd left his wig, darted to grab it, and ran as fast as his little legs would carry him out the door. He didn't stop running when he was out the door; he bolted all the way back to his house.

Dib, however, stopped in his tracks the moment he'd reached the kitchen. He stood staring at what he saw before him, camera in hand. He honestly couldn't believe his eyes. His father, staring at the doorway leading to the living room, had both arms down by his side, one of which held the PAK that Dib had left there... far away from Zim. 

He couldn't believe his eyes. He wanted to deny it but... he knew that Zim couldn't have gotten away alone. He knew his father set him free, and he couldn't come up with a single reason why.

"D-Dad?" Dib stuttered in disbelief, causing the Professor to turn toward his son and place the PAK on the table.

"Son, you need to leave that boy alone. Normally I put up with your shenanigans, but you've gone too far this time," Membrane said in response. Dib couldn't believe his ears. 

It was so obvious this time. How was it even possible to not see it?

He'd finally done it; he'd finally captured Zim without his disguise and got him home in time for his father to see, and instead of congratulating the boy and telling him that he finally believed him, he set the alien free. He set Zim free, and it broke Dib. Why would he do that? 

Why, when it was so obvious, did he set Zim free?

"Why did you let him go? I planned this all week! I spent so long making backup plans and even more backup plans, and you let him go? Why?" Dib's voice was lowered to just above a whisper. 

In the dead silence of the room, he was heard, and the response he got was not the one he wanted.

"You kidnapped a child, son. It just wasn't right," the Professor stated, pausing. "He had an interesting costume on though. Those contacts were so very bright. I wonder why though. Halloween isn't until next month." He moved his hand to his chin, seemingly thinking.

Dib went stock silent. He couldn't believe this. His father had used that very same excuse last year, when Dib had shown him the pictures of Zim that he'd captured during one of their battles. 

Of course, afterward Zim managed to delete the files from his base, using his Irken software to hack into Dib's computer. He'd felt so hopeless when those files completely disappeared while he was reviewing them. The work he'd done was completely erased in an instant.

And that was exactly how he felt now. Except this was different. 

It was no longer anger toward Zim for all the hate and resentment that had grown ever since the Irken had come to Earth... It was toward his own father. He knew that the Professor wasn't stupid enough for this. He'd given him actual, living proof that aliens existed, and he wrote it off, for the second time, as a costume. 

Dib couldn't believe this. He clenched his empty fist, gripping the camera in his right hand tighter.

"You used that excuse last year!" He exclaimed incredulously. The Professor stared in silence as Dib continued, yelling louder with each word spoken. "You can't just keep making excuses! I know you're not this stupid, so why do you keep acting like it!?" Dib breathed heavily. 

He was on the brink of breakdown, hurt, angry, and confused. His father heaved a deep sigh.

"Not now, son. Not now." With that, the Professor turned and walked away, intending to escape to his lab to start his work. 

Dib called after him, asking desperately what he meant, but was left standing in the kitchen, alone, with no response. His arms hung limply by his side as he stood stock still, mouth pressed into a thin line and tears threatening to spill.

He no longer had a reason to capture Zim.

He had no more purpose.