"Computer?" Dib tried, pacing around the house. Zim was stalking him with his eyes, both curious and fearful. Gir had escaped his master's clutches and was parading around behind Dib, freezing every time he turned to look at him.
"Voice input not authorized," Zim's house computer replied, startling the shorter Irken again. "Identify yourself or be ejected!"
"Dib," he hesitated, what else was he supposed to say? He stood still for a scan as a robotic arm descended from the ceiling, caking the room and its occupants with years worth of dust.
"Irken Dib..." the computer muttered. Dib felt something lodge into his PAK. Were all invader level computers this thorough? "Scientist drone..." The computer fell silent, no doubt processing all of the information in his PAK. Dib vaguely wondered if it could think and make decisions independent of its master. "Voice control... authorized. For the sake of the mission."
"The sake of the— what the hell is going on here? Why is there a ROBOT VOICE in my house?!" Zim finally stood up, having gathered the courage to address the situation at hand. "You! Alien! Why are you talking to my... house? Can somebody please tell me what is happening ?"
"You're a—" Dib was cut off rather rudely by the computer, who violently ripped the scanner from his PAK, throwing Dib to the floor.
"There is nothing to worry about," the home computer seemed strained, if a disembodied robot voice could feel such a way. "You and Gir were sick and couldn't make it to school. This man is a doctor here to help you feel better."
"A doctor?!" Zim grabbed at his head in exasperation, "Why does he—" Zim's eyes glazed over, and he fell to the floor. Moments later, he woke up, just as confused, but looking at Dib with curiosity rather than fear. "A doctor..." Zim pushed himself up to his feet, "I'm sick... can't..." Zim yawned, dragging himself to the couch where he promptly collapsed.
"What did you do to him?!" Dib called up at the computer. In response, he was flung to the ground as the floor opened beneath him, revealing an elevator shaft. The lights flickered and a substantial layer of dust covered the elevator chamber. Without a word, the elevator was sent careening down to the depths of the earth. Evidently Zim's base was still intact, if unused.
"What did you do to him?" Dib asked again when the elevator let him out at the main lab. He wandered around, brushing dust off of dials and tools. This stuff was outdated, but not by that far. He still knew Irkens set in their old ways, insistent on using malfunctioning hardware from Operation Impending Doom II. Even so, there were still some marvels of technological prowess here. A mechadoomer loomed in one corner of the lab like a chicken-legged zombie from another era, on the table in front of him was a project abandoned halfway through. The notes beside it denoted its intended use, a remote piloting device programmed to latch on to the Massive's power core. A note at the bottom of the schematic explained how the Tallest needed to be present for Zim's 'latest evil masterpiece,' and that this would be the thing he needed to get them to finally show up.
"Computer?" Dib asked again, after finishing his cursory scan of the labs, "What happened?"
The computer didn't respond, but the massive monitor dominating the room flared to life.
~
"Computer!" Zim paced the labs, they were much cleaner, and the unfinished Massive remote control was sitting on a table in the background. A SIR unit, Gir, most likely, bounced around behind Zim, entertaining itself with just about anything it could find. "Contact the Tallest. I want to give them one last chance to come willingly."
"Fine," the computer grumbled. Zim's face lit up in pink as the monitor he faced attempted to contact their leaders.
"What is it, Zim?" Dib recognised Tallest Red's voice, and he saw the Tallest reflected in Zim's eyes. Neither looked happy to see him.
"My Tallest!" Zim saluted, "My plans are going as expected— better than expected, even! The brain-eating parasite is nearly ready and the humans are as unsuspecting as ever! The carnage will be GREAT!" Zim jumped into the air, barely containing his excitement. Gir cheered in the background. "I trust you have already made plans to come see? I am certain you will be impressed."
"No, Zim" Red groaned exasperatedly. "We have not, and will not make any plans to come see you. We don't want to see your parasite, we don't want to see your plans, we don't want to see YOU !"
"So you're saying you're... busy? But you'll come see later! Oh, I can't wait to launch Earth's organic sweep! This planet is filthy, you know? The universe will be better without it"
"The universe will be better without you!" Purple snapped, Zim cocked his head in confusion. "I mean—"
"He means, Zim," Red interrupted his partner with a sigh, "We aren't coming to see you. Not now, not ever. There will be no organic sweep, no invasion, no armada. You are, and for the record, have been , effectively banished. If we could get you deactivated, we would. But at this point it's too much of a hassle for someone worth as little as you. So... enjoy your life on Earth, Zim. Talk to you never ." The transmission cut out, and Zim stared blankly at the screen. Gir, in his blissful ignorance, continued playing in the background.
The video sped up, sped up, sped up. Nearly 14 hours passed in a matter of minutes, and finally Zim snapped awake at the sound of his PAK beeping. Low battery, Dib knew that sound all too well from his several-day long stints spent tinkering alone in the lab. The Irken on screen finally shook himself out of his stupor, pulling his PAK off and setting it up to charge. Gir was sleeping on the control panel in front of him.
"Computer?" Zim's voice was quiet. Dib couldn't read the emotions in his eyes, couldn't tell if the brash invader was being quiet for Gir's sake, or simply because he hadn't used his voice in hours. "What do you know about memory erasure?"
"Memory erasure?" The computer matched Zim's volume, its voice a deep bass that thrummed through Dib's head, vibrating his antennae unwittingly. "It's a dangerous procedure."
"Will it help me forget any of this ever happened?" As Zim spoke, a tube snaked its way into frame, hooking itself up to Zim's pack. The words 'Food Service Drone' illuminated the dark room. Zim turned to stare at the screen, "The Tallest aren't coming..." He glanced back at the unfinished remote piloting device. "How dangerous, Computer?"
"Well, it could result in your horrible, gruesome death." Zim merely raised an eyebrow at this, almost completely unfazed. "Also, if the procedure is completed successfully, any triggers from your past could result in a brain overload, potentially frying your PAK and deactivating you forever."
Zim hummed to himself, looking some things up on his monitor. "And if you helped me? If I ordered you to eliminate anything or any one who could make me..."
"That's... possible. Master, are you actually planning to go through with this?"
"You heard the tallest," Finally, emotion in Zim's eyes, although it wasn't pleasant. "They're not coming, they're never coming. The rest of my life on this dirty, filthy planet of dirt is my banishment, punishment, what have you. For what? I don't know. I've done nothing but devote myself to the empire, to the Tallest! I was a picture-perfect invader. But clearly," Zim kicked at the ground, clearly frustrated, "That's not good enough. So yes, Computer. I'm going through with this. It's nobody's loss but the Empire's, after all."
Zim's PAK dinged, and the Irken reattached himself to it. Gir shuffled in his sleep, sucking at his metal hand. Zim glanced over at the movement. "We will have to do something about Gir, as well." He muttered, half to himself, half to the computer. "I would hate to deactivate him..."
"We can wipe his memory chip," the computer offered, an arm descending from the ceiling gently switched the sleeping robot off, and Zim opened up its head, pulling out the chip. "Implant false memories," the computer continued, unprompted, "Make him believe he's always been a dog, or child, or whatever."
"Yeah..." Zim hesitated, staring at the chip in his hands. "Do you think we could... back this up? I don't want him to be lost forever."
"How sentimental, Master," the Computer's voice bordered on sarcastic, but there was a hint of sadness in it. "Would you like me to back your PAK up as well?"
Zim dismissed the computer with a wave, "That won't be necessary. Just the robot. I'm leaving the rest to you," Zim grabbed the tube from the table, latching it back on to his PAK.
"Are you su—"
"Computer!" Zim barked, growing frustrated with the AI, "That's an order! Wipe, now!"
"Ye-s, sir." The computer sounded just as pained as it had earlier in the house. Zim settled into the chair, taking his last few moments to take in the lab. His gaze landed on the abandoned project on the table. When he looked back at the camera his eyes were set, ready.
The camera cut to black.