Possessed

Identity

"So, Bid, how are you today?"

"I'm doing well, Doctor Feto." He raised a hand, compulsively running it over his head, assuring himself that he sprouted normal antennae, and not the bizarre patch of fur he'd been convinced he had for the last decade.

"Still checking, I see." She observed, making a note on her pad. "That's to be expected, but try to break yourself of that habit. You need to trust yourself that you really are Irken."

"Yes Doctor." He murmured, pulling his hands away from his head. "I'm sorry."

"No need, you're making marvelous progress." Feto smiled at him. "I wish all my patients were progressing as fast as you. It took you quite some time, but once you broke through, you really followed through on it."

"I couldn't have done it without you, Doctor." His claws twitched, still needing to feel his head. He clasped his hands together to keep them still. The feel of his six claws touching eased his anxiety somewhat. He had six claws, he reminded himself, not ten fingers. He shuddered. How could he ever have thought he had those four extra, rounded, useless digits?

His neck still hurt. He reached back as if to rub it, then paused. Why would he do that? His neck didn't really hurt, it was just a twitch. Annoyed with himself, he put his arm down again.

"Is your training starting to come back to you, Bid?" Her intense pink eyes regarded him soberly. "Anything from the academy?"

"A little, my memory is still fuzzy," he admitted.

"That's the psychotic break you had. Your dissociation was very complex, and it blocked off a lot of your memories. If you're even recalling a little bit of them, that's good."

"How long until I'm well again, Doctor?" He asked, hopefully.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we could discharge you in a few weeks. But until then, you need to remember, if you keep having those dreams, just explain to the people you see in them who you really are. It will help your mind reconcile itself to that fact."

"Yes Doctor."

"And in a few days, we'll be ready for a significant step."

"What's that, Doctor?"

"Well, I'm going to oversee one of your dreams, and help guide you through it. In that dream, you are going to don a PAK. If you do that in your dreams, it will help you solidify the fact that you are Irken. It will be a symbol."

"I see, Doctor. Can't we do that now?"

"Not yet. I want to observer you for a few more days." She rose to leave. "Well, I will be back later to check on you, Bid. Don't forget the exercises I gave you."

"I won't Doctor."

….

"Don't forget the exercises I gave you." Purple murmured into the microphone. His eyes drifted from the screen displaying the subject's neural activity to the prone form of the creature on its cell bed.

I won't Doctor. The readout translated the neural impulses into words the subject spoke and images it was seeing. The proper electrical interference produced a simulated reality in its mind that was real to all five senses.

Purple smiled and began turning a dial on the control panel in front of him, the one that would slowly bring the subject out from its unconscious state into reality. But the subject would no longer be able to tell which was real.

If the experiment was successful, this human could be the next step in species conquering. Taking one of a species' own kind, confusing their reality, and attaching a PAK to them, solidifying their "Irken Identity". Then, it would be a short step to reintegrating them into their own society as sleeper agents, gathering information and sending it to the Armada for processing. And from there, it would be a small step to easier planet domination.

All this hinged on the success of this experiment. If the subject didn't fully embrace his "Irken Identity" as Bid, the experiment would be deemed a failure, and the subject disposed of. A failed experiment, after all, was a worthless experiment. Purple smirked, wondering if the human experimenting on Zim was finding him to be as much of a failure as the Armada had. He hoped so, so they would finally be rid of him.