Author: HeCallsMeHisChild PM
"What is this?" He screamed. "Who are you! Who are you! WHO ARE YOU!" The answer may be more than Zim bargained for.Rated: Fiction T - English - Friendship/Spiritual - Jesus & Zim - Chapters: 10 - Words: 14,370 - Reviews: 70 - Favs: 83 - Follows: 9 - Updated: 08-20-10 - Published: 08-02-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6202439
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Note: I have not forgotten Marbles & Screws. I am working on the next chapter. Also, I would like to ask you to please give this fic a chance. Usually I write a chapter at breakneck pace, then post it just as quickly. I actually took time to write this whole thing out, then go over it to make sure it was decent, then break it up into chapters over the course of four or five days.
Zim shivered in his reinforced glass cell. It had been three days. Count them. Three. He wouldn't have known if his PAK hadn't consistently reminded him every day that time had passed. How else could he know, locked in an underground laboratory?
How the Dib had finally convinced his stupid Swollen Eyeballs of Zim's alienness was neither interesting nor important. What was important was freeing himself. He'd already lost an antenna and one eye to the inquisitive scalpels and snippers of the scientists. "For preservation and testing," they'd claimed, wielding the terrifying tools. He shuddered. He had to get out of there before he lost more. Who knew what they'd start cutting, prodding, and removing next?
His PAK weaponry remained in disuse. His captors had informed him in no uncertain terms that they had his robot, and would not hesitate to dismantle it if he showed the least aggression toward them.
He pounded his fist against the wall. "Stupid GIR, why did you have to get yourself caught too? Stupid Dib probably told them all about stupid GIR. Stupid bighead with his stupid pointy hair!"
Zim turned to the one thing that showed a little promise. He'd found that, through his PAK's amazing capabilities, he'd been able to connect with the human information network, also known as the internet. He had discovered it before, but never really paid it attention. Now, however, he scoured it for information. Any information he could use to free himself and destroy his captors. But where to start? The sheer volume was staggering, and much of it was either false or subjective… or just plain disgusting.
"Really?" He muttered, blanching. "Who wants to know the content of a dog's fecal matter? Filthy stink creatures."
He sat back against the wall, contemplating the ceiling. He listed the weaknesses he'd found in humans over time. Family and friends? No good, he couldn't threaten anybody from his cell. Substances? But he didn't have any with which to bribe them. Besides, how would he acquire them, and would men of science stoop to that level so readily? Probably not.
He stroked his chin. There was one more area he had considered before as a point of attack. To date, he had not been able to find a force more suited to tearing the humans apart at the seams than their beliefs. Their precious, hard-won religion. He sneered to himself. It seemed every religion ordered its converts to subdue every other religion, by cunning and coaxing or force. There were a few exceptions, but they were rare.
If he could find out the religion of the science-men and use it to manipulate them, perhaps he would be released.
Much to his dismay, however, he soon found that most men of science—at least those most outspoken on the internet—believed in no religion. A small group of them had banded together under the name "Intelligent Design" though, that looked promising. Apparantly they had gathered evidence that there was some intelligent being that created the universe, instead of random happening.
Zim rolled his eyes as he scanned the information. Humans would believe anything.
A link at the side of the webpage caught his eye. The heading read, "For the Judeo-Christian account of creation, click here. For the Islamic account, click here. For the Bhuddist account, click here. For the Hindu account, click here." And on and on the list went. Zim frowned. How was he going to choose which one to start with?
He bolted upright. "I am ingenious!" He exclaimed. "I shall compare the sales of the records of each of these religions and see which has the most. That one will surely have had the most influence on the planet!"
It didn't take many searches to discover that, out of all the religious writings, the Records of the Judeo-Christian account had sold the most over the longest period of time. Now reduced to two Records, Zim considered the Torah and the Bible. Another quick search indicated the Bible contained the Torah, and he laughed. Silly fools, to have two separate religions when they used the same portions of the Record. But then, when had anything the humans did make any sort of sense?
Pulling up a website containing the entirety of what was the Christian Record, Zim began scanning it for information. Almost immediately he stopped, puzzled. "Gar-den? What is a garden? And snakes don't talk… this is stupid."
"GAH!" Zim startled, leaping aside and jerking his head around left and right. No one was there.
"Hehe, heh, that must have been a mouse, yes. A filthy rodent making noise. In… my… brain." He turned back to the internet screen. Again, he frowned. "So the first human meatsacks ate fruit, and had to leave their homes? What sort of idiotic rule is that?"
Zim shrieked, lunging across the room to cower in a corner. "Who are you?" Zim demanded, alarmed at the voice that seemed to be speaking into his mind. "What are you doing in my head?" Before the voice could answer, he yelled louder, "Who are you?" And again, "Who are you?"
There was a calculated silence, and Zim thought he felt a sense of amusement. But the voice that followed the silence carried a gravity that belied the initial feeling.
Zim crumpled to the ground, gasping. The force of the words swept through his body, sucking the air from his spooch and sending his brain reeling.
Zim had often used that statement, and followed it with his name. "I am ZIM!" he proclaimed, often and loudly. But this voice, this entity, all that was needed were those two words. Nothing more was needed. It—He—was the essence of active existence.
He lay there, curled into a fetal position for several minutes. Slowly, he uncurled himself and sat up, eyes wide.
"Wh-what was that?"
"Y-your name has that much power? I could barely breathe! And… what kind of a name is.. is…" he hesitated, afraid to speak those words together.
It is Myself.
Zim couldn't find the wherewithal to pull his jaw shut. His eyes darted wildly. "This is… some strange joke… the humans—no, they don't have the capability… I… what are you? And don't say that again!"
You were reading My words.
He glanced down at the internet screen, still open. "Your… this? The Record of the Christians?"
I suppose the Records is a very apt name for it, yes. It records history for many generations of the human race known as the Israelites. Then it records My time on Earth. Then it records the future of the planet and the end of the world.
Zim frowned. "And the Israelites are? Nevermind, Zim does not want to know. Just get out of my head. I have my escape to plan."
As you wish.
Zim stared at the screen a little longer, before something sank in. "Wait, the future of the planet? Is that possible? And the end of the world?" Excitedly, he searched for the part of the Records detailing the destruction of the planet. He didn't have to search long, but when the Record known as Revelations came up, he just stared at it.
"Beasts, dragons, Babble On? What intoxications were these humans on to write such things?" He shut the internet screen down with disgust. "This is pointless, none of this is going to help me understand how to manipulate the humans." He frowned. "Wait… that voice, it said it wrote this… what was its name… Aye… am… Ayam. Ayam?"
The Irken managed to contain himself this time, and glared, putting his fists on his hips. "What the flirk were you thinking, writing this? Nobody can understand it, it makes no sense."
"HOW DO YOU KNOW THE NAME OF ZIM?"
Aside from the fact that you shout it several times a day, I made you.
Zim laughed harshly. "Very funny, disembodied voice, but I was cloned from two completely random genetic donors. You had no part in making me. Nobody is made like you make a ship or you make a Megadoomer."
You're right. I don't make people like people make Megadoomers. Amusement lightened the tone of the voice. I'm the one who designed the cell, Zim. The atom, the molecule. I put the functions in place so they could replicate. And then, I created a soul. One different from any other ever seen in the universe, and placed it in your new body.
Zim snorted. "A soul? Those are human things that they talk about. Irkens have no such things, we have no need for them. We have PAKs." He pointed to his, proudly.
Your race has integrated technology into your biology, but that doesn't mean that I have stopped placing souls in your shells.
Zim pondered this, slightly disturbed.
A moment ago, I was about to say that it is almost impossible for you to understand the Records. You are Irken, and the Record was transcribed by humans. There is a message you can understand, but you need help to understand it.
Zim's antenna perked. "You would explain to Zim, so I can get my freedom?"
In ways you have no comprehension of.
"Then begin!" Zim demanded, seating himself and pulling up the internet screen. "I must know the meanings of these things. First, what is a gar-den?"
STRONG NOTE: This is NOT meant to beat anybody over the head. It is not meant to shove anything down your throat. This is merely stating my beliefs in Invader Zim format. An odd format to say the least, but one in which I often think and experiment with different ideas. So again, this is not to beat anyone over the head or anything like that. This is merely a story-statement of my belief. You can accept or decline or ignore as you choose. Lastly, I do not claim to be a theologian. There are probably errors in what I wrote, I acknowledge.