Our Masks

At the age of fourteen, Dib discovered the secret to his father's success. Creeping into Membrane's lab, he stumbled upon something horrible instead of the ray gun he was hoping to find.

The world was about to end.

Only it wasn't, as his father calmly explained. In a matter of mere days, his team was able to concoct a forcefield large enough, positioned just so, to deflect a meteor almost one-third the size of Earth. The probability of such a plan working was very small, but through Membrane's tireless efforts the planet was saved from destruction.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why wasn't this on the news, or--"

Laughing dismissively, Membrane patted his son on the head. "Son, if we called in the media every time the world was in danger, there'd be nothing on TV but doom and gloom press conferences."

Understanding finally dawned on the boy. The Earth was in danger of destruction a lot more than he realized.

"If we had told the general public that they were all, in all likelihood, going to die, what would they do with that knowledge?" Dib didn't have to answer, he already knew. But his father went on anyway... "Riot in the streets. Have unprotected sex! Make irresponsible purchases! Do everything that consequence always stopped them from doing. It would be anarchy. And then what? If we stopped the meteor, what would humanity do? Many of them would kill themselves anyway, because they ruined their lives... Thinking their lives were going to end soon."

Ruffling Dib's hair, Membrane leaned down and looked squarely into his eyes. "Humanity as a whole doesn't need to know the truth, Dib. They can't deal with the truth... They concoct their own reality that they can live with..."

There was a deeper meaning in his father's words, and in time Dib grew to understand them.

The first lesson? His classmates hated him because he tried to make them see what they didn't want to see. They didn't want to know about the sasquatch. They didn't want to hear that Zim was an alien. Because all of these things, if acknowledged to be true, would cause their perception of reality to change. And most people can't live with such a shift.

Secondly: Live every day as if it were your last. That wasn't exactly what Membrane was hoping Dib would take away from their experience, but it was a palpable conclusion nonetheless. Dib came to comprehend that he was miserable, not because of the circumstances he was forced to live with, but because of the circumstances he had thrust himself into.

Dib became very good at learning what his peers wanted to perceive, and he began to change himself to fit that mold. Only during the day, of course. There was still the other half of him, when the mask was removed, that thrived at night. When he fought Zim's plans, quietly and under the cover of darkness. Even then, however, he didn't let Zim see his work. Showing humanity Zim's true identity was no longer Dib's goal. He found that the best course of action was to let Zim sabotage himself.

In time, Dib became, as a whole, accepted by his classmates. He wasn't popular by any means, but the teasing stopped. He even made some friends, though only on a superficial level. Zim seemed to slowly melt out of Dib's peripheral vision as he began to live the life of a semi-normal boy. By the time Dib turned 16, Zim was gone. Where he had disappeared to, Dib didn't know... But as he was no longer trying to destroy the planet... Dib didn't really care.

Dib grew. He began to help his father save the world, becoming a respected professor in his own right. By the time he was 20, he had more money in the bank than he knew what to do with. Underneath the notice of his father, he had formed his own paranormal taskforce, keeping tabs on all the werewolves and sasquatches of the world. Just for fun, really. They never said anything to him about Zim. Zim... had probably given up and gone home.

Sometimes Dib wished he had been able to show the world what Zim truly was. But that would never have happened... Such a wish was childhood fantasy. Dib had adjusted his vision. He now lived in reality. His girlfriend laughed at him when he talked about aliens.

And so Dib sat in the bar, nursing a drink and laughing at her. Because like the rest of humanity, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. And it wouldn't hurt his father either.

"Nice to see you again, Prof," the bartender joked as he handed down another Jack and Coke. Nobody at the bar called him by name. If they knew who he truly was, they were smart enough to keep it to themselves. He was only referred to as "Professor."

Swallowing down the glass in one gulp, Dib smiled. "I've been busy at work."

This was all that was said, as it was obvious that Dib was moody that night. Feeling the world tilt a little, Dib cast his bleary eyes about the dark pub. He didn't see anybody fuckable. How depressing.

Sometimes he felt sorry for the girlfriend. Despite a considerable amount of effort, he simply couldn't find her attractive. Not that she wasn't a very pretty girl with a nice figure... Daughter of one of Membrane's esteemed collegues... Very smart, very rich...

But Dib didn't like soft breasts and full lips.

He pretended to, though. And just came down to the pub where nobody knew his name... Where money talked and only men were allowed inside.

At the corner of the bar, his eyes laid themselves upon a new face. Leaning back against the wall with an arm casually thrown over the back of his chair, long legs crossed daintily before him... His other hand was on the rickety table, slender fingers drumming in boredom while some smitten young man was blubbering in his ear. Complete and utter disinterest was plain on his face, but the man next to him either didn't realize or didn't care.

"Oh-- I wouldn't waste your time on him, Professor." Dib turned to look back at the barkeep, the closest thing to a 'friend' he had in the place. "He's broken a lot of hearts around here. He's trouble." As he cleaned glasses and placed them in their places in the rack above, the man continued, "He likes to string little boys along, make them buy him things... Makes them think they're going to get something out of him if they try hard enough."

"Doesn't put out, huh?" Dib laughed, looking back over his shoulder.

The man put another glass of liquor before Dib on the counter. "A couple of people claim they've gotten lucky, but I'm not so sure." He snickered. "Probably just ashamed and trying to cover up their failure... One dude told me that he was a fucking eunuch. Can you believe that?"

"Maybe he really is. And that's why only a few people get to see him below the belt." A lazy smile curled across Dib's lips. Lack of testosterone would explain some of the man's features... He was so slim, so effeminate, so exacting in his movements. His skin was alabaster, almost glowing in the blacklights throughout the bar. Atop his head was a mop of messy black hair, black as wet ink. He was beautiful and he knew it.

And he also knew that Dib was watching him, as was evident when clear dark eyes looked up into Dib's. Narrowing those eyes, something almost like a scowl flashed across his face. The hair on the back of Dib's neck stood up, but he couldn't bring himself to look away.

"What does he drink?" Dib asked the bartender, not bothering to avert his eyes. There was no way the alabaster boy could hear him over the sound of drunkenness and the televisions anyway.

Scoffing at Dib's obvious lack of concern for his earlier warning, the barkeep replied, "He doesn't."

Dib finally turned back to the bar, his face incredulous.

"He doesn't drink anything. I'm serious. He buys drinks for other people though, sometimes. And he tips really well." He gestured to Dib's own ignored drink and finished, "I'm telling you, he's bad news. Don't bother."

And he walked away.

Almost on cue, Dib felt a hot breath of air against his ear. "I've never seen you here before."

The voice was masculine, but had a feminine hiss at its core. Almost androgynous. Taking a drink, he closed his eyes and answered, "I've been coming to this bar for four years now."

"Since you turned 21?"

Was that a guess or a statement of what he knew to be fact? Dib finally turned his head, looking the alabaster boy right in his dark eyes. He had no eyelashes, it seemed; maybe it was too dark to tell. "Yes, as a matter of fact. And you?"

The boy didn't answer; only sniffed and sat down on the stool next to Dib. Somewhat offended, Dib volunteered, "You don't look a day over 16. Are you using a fake ID?"

A sneer stretched across the boy's face. "Of course I am." Dib felt his face flush. God, what a beautiful creature. It was obvious by the way that he carried himself that he knew he could get away with anything he wanted.

"So you really are 16?"

"Ha!" The boy reached out and plucked a stray hair from Dib's shoulder. "I'm older than you."

Propping his shoulder up on the bar, Dib asked, "So... What's your name, old man?"

Leaning forward, eyes narrowing again, the boy growled, "You're joking, right?" He pushed away from the bar and began to walk toward the front door. "Just... don't interfere with me, okay?"

And he was gone, leaving Dib confused as hell.

"Toldja he was trouble."

Dib sulked. "He's a fucking snob!"

And terribly fascinating.