A Parade of Indignities

Chapter 20: Of Cabin Fever and Draft Letters

Dib had a sneaking suspicion that the only reason Skoodge had taken such a sudden interest in his foot was because he needed a distraction. Frankly, he couldn't blame him.

Chaos was present at every turn. War was underway, Zim's mental state was predictably haywire, GIR was constantly running amok, and Dib was only making things worse.

With so much having fallen into disarray, it made sense that more and more actions were taken with a sort of dreamy haphazardness. Done not with conscious thought, but some indistinct beckoning. A small but indispensable scrap of peace could come from something as simple as seeking out a task that allowed escape. Some predictability and the sensation of accomplishment. And through all of that, the semblance of control.

For Skoodge, control could be found most aptly in the form of anything that provided him the opportunity to use his skills as a medical drone.

He poked and prodded the swollen skin of Dib's ankle, humming in interest as he examined it. Dib winced at each touch, fighting the urge to draw his leg back up to his chest and out of reach. He was sitting on an exam table down in the med bay, his pantleg pulled up to the knee. In the quiet, he could distantly hear the beeping of the monitors from Zim's sickroom nearby.

Trying to get his mind off the pain while Skoodge made his initial examination, he began to glance around the room. The med bay, much like the rest of the home, was a seemingly endless maze of halls and closed doors. Dib had only been granted limited access to it all, and what his eyes had seen barely scratched the surface. Whenever he had access to a new room, the perpetual boredom that had overtaken him was temporarily put aside as his hungry eyes took in everything they could.

This one, however, was remarkably underwhelming. It looked not unlike a normal examination room, except a little barer perhaps. A few instruments lay on the table beside him, and his eyes lingered on them, musing over what they could be for. One looked a bit like an otoscope, used for examining ear canals.

Knowing that couldn't possibly be its purpose, Dib let out an amused little sniff. Almost instantly afterwards, though, his expression shattered into a grimace as Skoodge jabbed an especially tender area.

The Irken leaned back and reached into his PAK, returning seconds later with a small device that resembled a flashlight.

"Computer." He gestured towards the ceiling lazily with his other hand.

In response, a monitor lowered down from the rafters and glowed to life beside him. The standby screen bore the ever-familiar insignia of the Irken Empire. Dib found himself transfixed on it as Skoodge hovered over him and aimed the beam over the afflicted area.

A few quiet seconds passed, then the screen changed to a series of X-rays showcasing every little bone that made up his foot and ankle.

"It looks like you have a minor fracture. Right... here..." Skoodge traced the area on the screen with one slender claw.

Dib's eyebrows shot up, and he squinted at the image tentatively. "It's not just sprained?"

Skoodge shook his head. "No." He paused for a moment, twisting up his face in confusion. "Not only is it broken, but it doesn't look like it's healing at all."

The news was anything but surprising, but Dib still felt sheepish as Skoodge studied the X-ray.

The Irken's eyes narrowed a bit. "How long has it been like this?"

"Uhh, like, a week and a half?" Dib guessed.

"And in all that time, it hasn't healed on its own?"

"Umm, no. Humans don't work that way," he responded, a half-smile tugging at his lip. "It takes a lot longer for our bones to heal. And usually a few trips to the doctor, too."