Hey Spacejerk

A Bumpy Ride

A void. He was rushing through a void feet-first and there weren't any brakes. A tiny voice at the back of his mind reminded him that Zal was probably screwing with him any way she could and that his perception of how he entered Zim's PAK was at her discretion, but this was overwhelmed by all the adrenaline screaming "Imminent doom!"

An appropriately terrifying amount of time later, Dib hit some surface and found himself fetched up against it in a shaking little heap.

"We trust your entry into Irken technology that was designed for your species' annihilation has been satisfactory," Zal chirped. "Please check the end of your receipt for a web address where you can leave us a short survey to tell us how we did."

"You are a menace," Dib gasped, rolling back on his rear and attempting to collect himself.

"Thank you kindly, your feedback has been duly ignored and we will continue as we have for thousands of years."

"Remind me why we have to do this together? Why I can't just do this myself, or you for that matter? And... where did you go?"

"You cannot do this yourself because your neural signature would be immediately flagged as organic were I not cloaking you at this moment-which should answer your question of where I am. I now surround you-and I cannot do this without you... well that's rather unclear to me but there was something about human unpredictability I suppose. Personally, after several years in uncomfortably close quarters with you, I think I could mimic you enough to handle this on my own."

"Well, maybe Zim doesn't trust a piece of Irken software to finish off Irken software."

"I am horrified that he trusts you."

"Yeah. Well." Dib inhaled slowly, then exhaled at the same rate and stood to his feet. "That one took me by surprise too." He looked around, squinting at his surroundings. "Zal. Is there any reason in particular that the inside of an Irken's PAK looks like... well, an industrial city? Albeit..." he ducked as five hoverscreens zipped past him. "One slightly more advanced than I've seen on Earth..."

"Not 'slightly'," she admonished. "This is a simulation of Control Brain Central on Irk. It left your sad little planet's stone age 'technological advances' behind eons ago."

Dib raised a brow. "But... why? Why have a simulation of a city inside the PAK? Did Zim ever see this? Can he just visit this simulation? Or did he not even know it was here?"

"Who knows whether he knew it was here or not. But if an organic brain attempts to directly interact with an inorganic piece of hardware and software, it would make sense that there has to be some pictoral translation of surroundings. Not even the organic Irken brain can handle the raw data that is a PAK program."

"Why, then, isn't it translating into something my brain would recognize, like my city?"

"Because it's filtered through me and I don't like you, you impudent descendent of dung flingers."

Sighing, Dib turned his attention to his surroundings. He doubted any of the structures he saw had earthly components, but what appeared to be concrete, glass, and steel covered every square inch of his surroundings. Not one tree was visible. Not one flower. Not a fallen leaf or blade of grass. Only hoverscreens and little drones flew overhead. All around him were skyscrapers, thrust up like spears and swords pointed out at the unsuspecting universe.

"Don't you dare feel pity," Zal growled. "Don't you dare, as if you have it better. This is beautiful. This is what every world should look like, were it so lucky to serve Irk."

Dib held his tongue. He wasn't here to fight with Zal, he was here to somehow deprogram Zim's PAK.

"There is nothing! For you! Out there! But death! And destruction!"

Dib whipped around, wide-eyed. A familiar Irken marched in lockstep with another down the middle of the street, a megaphone to his mouth. "You didn't tell me Zim was here, Zal!"

"Depends on what you're willing to call 'Zim,'" she said.

No. It wasn't Zim in lockstep with another Irken. It was Zim in lockstep with himself. Two Zims with megaphones marched down the street, shrieking in unison. "Surrender yourselves! You are a hazard! To the Empire! We must submit! To the Almighty Tallests! And their perfect will!"

"To answer your question, no," Zal sighed. "They aren't looking for us. If only."

"You are weakness!" They blared. "You must submit yourself! For the glory of the empire!"

Dib's eyes narrowed. It wasn't a hard logical leap to surmise that if there were two of Zim here, there would be many more. If these were visual translations of codes, programs, or even thought patterns, then he was probably watching 'Big Brother' in action and on the hunt.

"That is the least of the problem, I tell you," Zal muttered.

"You're being very unhelpful!" Dib snapped. "What is the weak point, here? How do I take all this down to get Zim a usable PAK?"

"It isn't so simple." Zal indicated the two Zims passing by. "Those are Zim's actual thoughts. If you destroy any of those, you'll cripple him like you seem to not want to."

"But those aren't thoughts he wants to have!"

She snorted. "And you, of course, only have thoughts that you want running around in your head. Oh wait."

Dib paused, frowning. "So we can't wipe out Zims. I don't think I can get them on our side, though."

"Oh no. They would eradicate you in a heartbeat and think nothing of it."

"And they'd congratulate each other to boot. Okay, so..." he frowned. "But those can't be the only Zims. I saw him having contrary thoughts on film. What would those Zims," he gestured at the retreating backs of the shouting Zims, "do with Zims they deemed weak and a hazard?"

"Probably stuff them into the..." she paused, considering. "Closest concept to give you is that they would be stuffed into a large, dark containment space. Within the physical presence of the PAK it is a small cube, but in here it is the size of a full city block. It is supposed to be emptied every few years, a routine maintenance that can be done on Irk or fully conquered Irken planets."

"Do you know where that is?"

"If I try and tap into the PAK's information to find it, they'll start questioning why I'm here. Right now we can fly below the radar because we haven't interacted."

Dib lifted his head with a grim smile. "So, Zal. Tell me. Do you think you could make me look and sound like Zim?"

"Oh Irk. Please tell me you're not..."

"Obviously you know I'm serious."

"I hate everything."

"So you keep telling me. Come on now." Dib spread his arms out. "I want to see gloves, a uniform, green skin, and I want to hear the most obnoxious voice in the universe coming out of my mouth when I speak."

And so it was. Black gloves stuck off the end of pink-wrapped arms and a short red dress uniform hung to his knees over black leggings and boots. He hummed a pitch and it came out high and creaky, like an annoying fly. He couldn't help a little laugh, and it was just like Zim's.

"Perfect," he said gleefully. "Now, make us visible." Taking a deep breath, he ran after the other Zims.

"We're doomed!" he shrieked. "Doomed!"

The other two spun around, dropping their megaphones. "Stay where you are!" They screeched.

"Doomed! The humans will cut us open!" Dib threw himself at their feet, panting. "We will die here! We have to leave! We have to go back to Irk!"

"Weakness!" Two sets of hands seized him by the shoulders. "Do not resist! This is for the good of the mission!"

"No!" Dib wailed, flailing his arms as he was dragged down the street. All was going according to plan, but a little more resistance would sell the act. "No, you fools! Don't you understand we are all-AUGH!"

Electricity pulsed through his physical body. He could feel it wipe through the top of his head all the way down to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his toes before darkness took him.