I was wasting time
Oh so sure to find somebody who would never go
How could I know
All I found was you
None could be so true
The only one love divine
My heart, my mind are yours
(Everywhere I Go – Five Iron Frenzy)

Daylight streamed like Christmas lights in September through the heavy overcast of deep grey clouds over a sky of purple. It smelled like rain and garbage, a good sign of a storm on the horizon, while clouds rumbled like starved stomachs as they were moved over the dark city like the swallowed hope of its civilians. All of this was hard to see from the tiny window of the basement dwelling under the third-rate apartment complex in the less aspiring part of the urban sanctuary known as Rankle City. All that could be seen was the occasional feet stomping off in second hand shoes and trousers, with fishnet-stocking-legs in red stiletto heals following closely over hop scotch imprinted sidewalks with McMeaty’s wrappers littering the gutters. Petulance, disease, the bane of humanity in plague proportions waltzing to the beat of depression, success and indulgence while those even less fortunate looked on in envy of the doomed lives that passed them unseeing. Perhaps that was why Zim never looked out his small window. The world’s problems seemed to always reflect only what his insides would rather keep locked far away in the depths of denial.

He lived in a basement, a location he had chosen for himself, working as the apartment’s maintenance supervisor. Fancy name to say that he fixed things humans were too stupid and lazy to fix themselves. Not that he actually slaved under them. That was a job for Robot Zim. His basement location let him burrow his lab deep into the soil without worry about it being found; the menial jobs his Robot copy did allowed him spending money and a safe cover in case...

Zim sat on his couch, the cushions shifting their stuffing around beneath him until he practically sank into them like quicksand. It had once been a comfortable and desirable trait, but now Zim only felt annoyed by the constant shifty feeling of it. Gir would have liked it. Now the SIR unit sat quiet in deactivation on a workbench down in the subterranean lair. The TV played the Scary Monkey show, which Zim quickly passed over, flipping past endless soap operas and infomercials, made for TV movies about Chicken Foot and commercials for tacos. Nothing good was on TV. He wondered, had there ever been anything truly interesting on it before? When one was being exiled and pursued by glory hungry humans, life seemed so much more interesting than anything found of cable.

The former thought made Zim’s teeth clench in bitter grievance. He was fine with being exiled. As fine as one could be. Being banished once before made it easier somehow, if not obviously so. One would think being pursued by humans would be nothing new as well. He’d been on the planet for eleven stinking years, never sure when the skin condition story would fail to convince the majority. The pursuit had always been and was a constant presence. No problem there; it was the pursuer that caused him grief. The damned, curious, incorrigible human Dib Membrane. And, oh, the emotions that came with the mentioning of the vile enemy to all paranormal existence! Like love!

Zim looked quizzically into the back of his mind. That was certainly a leap in his train of thought. Unfortunately, it was not one that was uncommonly found. His most worthy adversary had long ago hacked his way into the alien equivalent of a heart, not even noticing what he had found as he plundered and pillaged any hopes or attempts at civilities between them. One would’ve thought that with glasses as big as his, he’d have been able to notice the white flag or the extended hand. Not that Zim was ready to give up. Never. The next time he had to appear on a paranormally themed show, it would be as a ghost. Giving up his will to live was never an option. Giving up his heart had never been intended. Giving up the rivalry was all he wanted.

Curious, Zim turned the TV channel to one he had broadcasted from his lab that displayed the desired target on a secret satellite in orbit. He smiled, noting the red dot’s placement on the world map. Mongolia. Zim smiled, changing the channel. He’d been tracking Dib for years, tired of unexpected appearances from the earthenoid with his hoards of gadgets and cameras. Now there was no way he could sneak up on him...unless Zim wanted him too. As stupid as it sounded, he had done it on occasions, if only to try again and to be met with the haughty investigator’s taunts and untrusting demeanor. Every time Dib would barge in, thinking Zim was completely unaware previously to his appearance, and Zim would run away. Cowardice at it’s best, and yet more honorable than anyone would ever give him credit for. He didn’t have to be there when Dib showed up. A little bomb could be waiting inside Robot Zim instead. There was nowhere Dib went without this knowledge; no reason he couldn’t destroy him at a moment’s notice. Damn love. How someone could love a person and hate what they did was beyond his comprehension. And yet, it was also the reason for his being.

The door opened; Robot Zim walking in dressed in blue overalls with assorted stains on his skin and clothing. “Objective completed, Master,” it said, a light mechanical sound behind the programmed vocals.

“Very good. Go below and clean yourself off before plugging back into the system.”

The Robot did as it was told, stepping stiffly across the room and jumping into the shower-turned-jump tube.

/Robots. Such loyalty and obedience. Why can’t humans be like that? Or, better yet, an Irkin heart?/