Chapter Text
If Dib would just stop screaming for a moment, maybe he’d appreciate the scenery.
Zim had expected Dib to be impressed with the planet Dendroba. Sure, they were coming in a little hot, but Zim was an expert pilot. He’d built this scrapheap of a ship, so he knew exactly what it was capable of and how best to fly it. Honestly, it didn’t fluster Zim at all that parts of the ship caught fire as they entered Dendroba’s atmosphere. The flames would fizzle out by the time they reached a landing zone. Nothing to fret over.
“Oooh, look down there!” Zim said, as chipper as a tour guide. “They finished that 200-story hotel they were working on last time GIR and I visited. See, Dib?”
Dib’s screams had dwindled to a continuous keen in the back of his throat. His arms were braced against the wall and the back of the shared pilot seat, and when a small panel on the exterior of the ship ripped loose and jolted the vessel, one of those hands relocated to Zim’s shoulder, nails digging sharply into his flesh.
Zim winced but continued. “You’re not even looking, Ugly.”
“Zim, we’re on fire!” Dib exclaimed, voice cracking.
“Only a little,” Zim said.
“ZIM!!!”
“It’s fine! Zim has accounted for this eventuality. Look. It’s already blowing out.”
A black trail of smoke billowed and dissipated behind the ship as the wind whisked the flames away. Apparently, this wasn’t sufficient reassurance for Dib.
“We’re going to crash!” he insisted.
“I know what I’m doing. Just sit back and enjoy the view. Like GIR,” Zim said.
GIR flopped himself over the back of the wide captain’s seat and flailed his arms between Dib and Zim. “Dib! Watch me! I’m the Superman!”
“Can’t you slow us down, at least?” Dib asked, his hand still clamped on Zim’s upper arm.
“I am slowing us down,” Zim said. The cruiser wasn’t as responsive to his commands as he’d like, but still. Dib was overreacting.
Though, to be fair, the surface of Dendroba was rapidly filling the windshield, which probably alarmed the human a bit. Zim aimed toward a large city on the horizon, drawing back the yoke to decelerate even further and give the ventral thrusters a chance to activate.
The lush, green world beneath them grew more detailed and vibrant every second. The 200-floor hotel Zim had tried to point out before seemed awfully close… Zim could make out the individual levels, stacked like smooth pieces of green and blue sea glass, rising out of the layers of foliage.
“We’re a little low,” Dib commented in a strained tone.
“Yes, Zim is aware,” Zim muttered, yanking harder on the yoke.
More irregular, smooth-edged towers appeared among the tropical treetops. Zim had prepared a brief history of the rainforest super-cities of Dendroba to present to Dib, though he sensed now was not the time to go into it. Bubbled glass buildings flashed beneath the broad leaves of the trees that reached closer and closer to their ship, but the thrusters on the bottom of the hull were finally firing up, pushing them back toward the sky.
“I’m sure there’s a landing pad somewhere around here,” Zim said.
“You didn’t have a plan for landing?!”
“Of course I have a plan! The plan is ‘find a landing pad,’ just like it is on every planet we visit,” Zim said.
“Most other planets we visit aren’t completely covered in giant trees. Forgive me for being a little concerned!” Dib snapped.
He had a point. Many of the planets they’d been to had skyports or wide, unobstructed landing zones outside of their major metropolises. Nearly all of Dendroba, on the other hand, was densely forested, which inhibited locating landing areas by sight alone. Searching through the trees for such a place was even more difficult to do while fighting against the controls of a ship composed of junk parts and misplaced optimism.
“If you’re concerned, make yourself useful and look for a place to park!” Zim said as he barely pulled out of the way of a particularly tall branch. “Watch for a large, flat circle near the top of the canopy. It should look blue or purple, and-”
Dib released his grip on Zim’s shoulder and thrust a finger toward the edge of the windshield. “Over there!”
Zim threw the yoke to the side, and the centrifugal force flung him into Dib’s body. Dib hooked an arm around Zim’s middle to stabilize him. In the small cabin space behind the seat, GIR screamed in delight as he slammed against the wall.
“We’re coming in too fast!” Dib shouted as they barreled toward the broad, violet platform.
Zim revved the ventral thrusters, causing the ship to quake and only slightly slow. They’d built up too much momentum for the ship to hover for a landing…
“We might skid a little,” Zim informed Dib with as much decorum as he could muster.
“We’re going to CRASH!”
Dib reached toward the yoke, but Zim’s weight kept him pinned in the corner of the seat, just out of range of it. As soon as the ship was over the platform, Zim let it touch down. Metal shrieked and the vessel shook violently as it scraped across the length of the disc. The ship rotated as it skidded, completing a full turn by the time it finally came to a stop a few feet from the opposite side of the circle.
All three passengers sat in silence for a few beats.
“I told you we wouldn’t crash,” Zim said, an unexpected quaver wobbling his words.
Somehow, Zim had managed to sit himself entirely on Dib’s lap during the landing. Dib lifted Zim aside, slowly brushed back his cowlick, and craned his neck to check just how close the nose of the ship had come to sliding off the platform.
“Unbelievable,” Dib said, and Zim sensed he didn’t mean that in a positive way.
Zim jumped to his feet between Dib and the dashboard, trying to block his view. “It’s fine! You’re going to love it here! We can go anywhere you want. Want to start at the communication hub? Or are you hungry? Or there’s this place I went to last time where you can just relax for a while.”
Dib raised a single eyebrow. “You went somewhere specifically to relax? Intentionally?”
“It is ‘self-care’ and it is important for one’s overall health and optimal performance, Dib-beast. Read a book.”
At last, Dib cracked a smile. “OK, fair enough. You just surprised me.”
“Are my claws not well-maintained? Does Zim’s skin not glow?” Zim asked, gesturing toward his face, which he knew to be bright and unblemished.
“You wear gloves most of the time. I don’t know what your claws are like,” Dib said.
Zim pulled off a glove and shoved his hand into Dib’s face. “See how shiny they are? It takes work, Dib.”
Dib took Zim’s hand and turned it a little, admiring his smooth claws. “Uh-huh. Very nice.”
Zim tugged his hand back. “You can appreciate them later. I must don my disguise before the parking attendant arrives.”
“I’m guessing Dendroba doesn’t take kindly to Irkens?” Dib asked as Zim climbed over the back of the seat.
“No, not historically,” Zim said. He paused to pry GIR out of a SIR-shaped dent in the cabin’s wall. “Dendroba and Irk are neither enemies nor allies. For several centuries, we’ve maintained something of a truce. Irk won’t invade Dendroba, and in return, Dendroba won’t toxin-bomb Irken territory.”
“That sounds more like a cold war than a truce,” Dib observed.
Zim shrugged as he fished his wig and contact lenses out of a compartment. “It’s as close to peace as Irk knows. Dendroba enjoys its status as a neutral planet for many races in this quadrant, considering the array of toxins Dendrobans could deploy in self-defense. Many species make use of the communication hub and resorts here, knowing that any trouble that might stir up would be instantly suppressed by chemical agents in the atmosphere.”
“What, like… Are you saying Dendroba could gas the entire population if they wanted to?”
“Dendrobans are immune to the toxins they manufacture, so if they really needed to, they could eliminate any foreign organic threats on the planet,” Zim said, spreading his eyelids with one hand and applying a contact with the other. He blinked a few times and repeated the process with the other eye. He hadn’t missed the immediate sensation of dryness that came with the damn things, but at least they effectively hid his Irken identity.
As Zim tucked his antenna beneath his wig, he turned back toward Dib, wondering why he was so quiet. The human’s brows were drawn close and he chewed at his lip.
No, that wouldn’t do. The Dib was supposed to be relaxed. This was meant to be a light, refreshing detour. Anxious faces were not allowed.
“There’s nothing to worry about!” Zim said, smiling as widely as he could. “The toxic defense system is precisely what makes Dendroba so safe! Species from across the galaxy can come here to relax without fear of violence, and in turn, Dendroba thrives on their tourism.”
“OK, but you’re still wearing a disguise,” Dib said.
“Like Zim said before: Irk and Dendroba are technically at peace, but Irk is not, eh, well-regarded by the locals,” Zim said. Or any other race in this corner of the galaxy, he mentally continued. The Empire may have fallen, but based on the reactions Zim had observed while he and Dib did jobs on other planets, Irkens were still viewed with suspicion. Which befit the great Irken race, Zim supposed. Still. Best not to call negative attention to himself and Dib while they were here.
Zim pulled GIR’s dog costume from another compartment and handed it to the robot. GIR scrambled into it, giggling in delight as he flipped the hood over his face.
“I missed yooouuuu,” GIR sang, hugging himself.
Dib laughed, and Zim turned eagerly toward the sound.
“What? What’s funny?” he asked.
Dib squeezed around the side of the dual pilot seat to join Zim and GIR in the narrow cabin. “Nothing. I just haven’t seen you two in your costumes for a while, and I was going to tease you for how terrible they are, but then I realized that no one on this planet even knows what humans and dogs are supposed to look like. You might actually convince people you’re a human. So, good job.”
Zim narrowed his eyes. “I know you are mocking me, but I did do a good job.”
“Uh-huh, very good,” Dib said with a smirk. Zim’s face warmed as Dib reached forward and straightened his wig. “There. Now you look like a perfectly normal dirt-monkey.”
Zim analyzed Dib’s face for signs of distress. “So, everything is OK? You aren’t worried about the toxin bombs?”
“I-” Dib stopped the sentence as soon as he started it. He looked off into a corner of the ship, a clear tell that he was thinking through something. Eventually, he smiled and let the tension fall out of his shoulders. “I’m not worried. We’re here to have fun, right? Let’s both relax and-”
Someone knocked on the hull, and before Zim could stop himself, his PAK legs deployed. One limb trained a laser on the hatch automatically.
“Whoa, hey! Zim!” Dib’s hand closed around one of Zim’s auxiliary legs.
“Uh, hello?” said a creaky voice on the outside of the door. “Is everyone, uh, alright in there?”
The parking attendant. Of course. Who else could it be? Zim withdrew his metal limbs and smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of his tunic.
“Yes, we’re all fine,” Zim announced, putting on a particularly authoritative tone. He activated the hatch release and the door swung open. “We’ll be making use of your garage for the day.”
“Oh! Uh, sure,” squeaked the alien on the other side of the door. He resembled a bipedal Earth frog to some extent, with bulging eyes, a wide mouth, and glossy, blue-green skin. “It’s just that you, uh… You came down a little hard, and we were kinda worried that maybe-”
“Did we damage the landing platform?” Zim interrupted.
“No, it’s pretty resilient…”
“Then our ‘hard’ arrival is none of your concern. How much cred?”
The Dendroban swallowed, his protruding eyeballs pressing down into his skull to facilitate the action. “Uuuhh, we accept Monies, Galactic Cred, Dendrots, Solar Dollars, Sacrifices to the Toxic Queen-”
Zim groaned loudly and thrust a cred chip into the disconcertingly sticky palm of the attendant. “Just process the cred for a cycle’s stay.”
“Yes, of course,” the Dendroban said. He tapped Zim’s cred chip against a machine on a lanyard around his neck, then handed the chip back. “Um, so, you’ll use the panel over there to summon your ship when you’re ready to go. Please note that our parking facility is not responsible for lost-”
“Yes, yes, whatever. Come along, Dib. GIR, fetch your leash.”
Zim marched out of the smoldering vessel with his companions on his heels. Dib cringed as he took in the outside of the ship, no doubt tallying up the damages to be repaired. Before Zim could reassure him, the parking attendant spoke again.
“Your ship isn’t going to, like, explode when we park it, right?”
Zim rolled his eyes so far back that it hurt a little. “Uuuggghhhhh. Everyone is so dramatic! Zim’s ship is fine.” He thumped the side of his fist against the hull for emphasis, which caused an elevator on the back of one of the ship’s fins to drop to the ground with a clang. Zim snatched it up and chucked it into the cabin. “That was intentional. It’s a detachable part, and it was supposed to do that, because I designed it that way.”
“Right… OK,” the attendant said, frowning. “We’ll take it from here, I guess…”
“Excellent,” Zim said, then whistled for Dib and GIR to follow.
As the trio crossed the platform, Dib watched the ship over his shoulder. The glassy surface of the landing field liquified beneath the vessel, allowing it to sink down into the unseen purple depths of the garage. Zim smiled to himself, pleased by the wonderment in Dib’s face.
GIR tugged at the end of his leash to reach the elevator first. The car was built into an enormous tree trunk that supported part of the platform and the vast, cylindrical storage space beneath it.
Dib brushed his hand against the bark before entering the elevator. “This is incredible… These trees would dwarf redwoods on Earth.”
Zim nodded. “And the entire planet is covered with them. Just wait until you see their roots.”
Dib’s eyes gleamed as the elevator closed and delivered them to the ground level of the city. As soon as the doors parted again, Zim grabbed Dib by the wrist and pulled him out into the light, determined to keep the human’s eyes sparkling. No more crinkled brows or gnawing on chapped lips. Zim would make today perfect.
“Holy shit,” Dib murmured as Zim led him onto a walkway.
More colossal trees shaped the city before them, their tangled roots supporting hundreds of spherical glass stores and offices, bunched together like giant clusters of grapes, shining in the beams of light that cut through the canopy hundreds of feet above. Elevated tramways curved through the multi-tiered cityscape, wrapping around trunks and dipping beneath root archways in whimsical, organic patterns, a mechanical circulatory system on a massive scale. Blue and purple flowers – larger than Earth cars – bloomed from the vines that twisted around the lowest branches of the trees.
“Eh? Eh? What do you think?” Zim asked as he tugged at the sleeve of Dib’s coat.
“It’s incredible!” Dib said. “Just imagine the megafauna that must be native to an environment like this.”
“Oh, pfft, the Dendrobans took care of those nasty creatures long before the planet became a tourist trap. Er, destination,” Zim said. He pulled GIR’s leash back before GIR could take a bite out of a hoverbike parked by the walkway.
Dib’s face fell a little. “Oh.”
Zim darted in front of him, taking both of Dib’s hands in his in order to draw his full attention. “But that’s good! Nothing dangerous here. We’re so so so so so safe. Which is good!”
“Right, yeah,” Dib said, his cheeks burning pink.
“Yes! So, where do you want to go?” Zim asked, relieved that Dib was smiling again.
“Could we start with the communication hub? Just so that’s not, you know, hanging over us all day,” Dib said.
Zim’s antennae twitched beneath his wig. “Are you worried about it?”
“No! No, not at all,” Dib said. “I just haven’t had the opportunity to talk to Gaz for a while, and I’m sure things are still weird on Earth, what with ‘Supreme Elite World Emperor Man’ and everything…”
“Blech, right,” Zim said.
“I like how Supreme Elite World Emperor Man just tells it like it is,” GIR said. “He reeeaaally gets me.”
“Not this again… You just like his hats,” Zim said as he started down the sidewalk.
“I do,” GIR admitted.
The ground-level paths of the city were crowded with the usual blend of tourists, natives, and small passenger vehicles. As Zim had predicted, no Irkens appeared among the masses. Fortunately, his genius disguise had done the trick, and no one paid Zim and his companions much mind as they approached a tramway ticket machine at the base of another tree.
“Do we have the cred to be spending on this stuff?” Dib asked while Zim requested a set of day passes.
“Of course we do,” Zim said.
“But we still have to buy parts for the Voot and your PAK. That’s why we’re out here in the first place.”
Zim slid his cred chip into the machine. “Zim is not an idiot, Stinky. I have a plan. Do not-”
“Don’t tell me not to worry,” Dib interrupted.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” Zim lied as the machine printed three plastic, flower-shaped tram passes. “I was going to say, ‘Do not underestimate Zim’s financial prowess.’ I know what I’m doing. We have scrap from Oobli A to sell on Currus. We’ll be fine. Besides, this is Skoodge’s cred chip.”
“OK, here’s a question that I’m going to regret asking,” Dib said, following Zim and GIR onto an escalator to reach the tram stop. “Does Skoodge know you have his cred chip?”
“Do you really think I would steal monies from Skoodge?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
“Perhaps it’s happened once or twice, but this time, Skoodge gave us the chip on purpose,” Zim said.
“But don’t we…” Dib trailed off as they reached the bustling platform.
“Don’t we what?”
“Never mind. It’s not important right now.”
Zim looked up at Dib quizzically. Dib was smiling in that crooked, pleasant way of his, and that was what Zim wanted, right? This was good. So why did his spooch feel twisty?
“Uh…” Dib had apparently noticed him staring. Zim thrust a tram pass into his hand. “Oh, thanks. So. How does this work?”
Zim explained the different lines through the city, as best he could recall them. The last time he was here was when Dib was wrapping up his senior thesis. Dib had been so distracted by his work that Zim decided to run a few extrasolar errands to occupy the time. And, of course, to help Dib focus on his studies, because how could he focus on anything but Zim when Zim was around? Spending a month or two this far out in space had been for Dib’s benefit, ultimately. Not about Zim at all. He certainly hadn’t been sulking, and he hardly ever reflected on how elated Dib was to see him once he returned to Earth.
Why was he wasting time thinking about this? They had a tram to catch.
“This way,” Zim said as a glass-walled train pulled up to the platform.
Zim demonstrated how to run the passes through an energy barrier to gain access to the tram. They selected the least crowded car and sat along the side, with GIR standing on his seat, masked face pressed against the clear wall. The doors slid shut, and a low whoosh of air signaled that the tram was about to depart.
“You’re going to love this,” Zim said, elbowing Dib in the side.
The train accelerated swiftly, angling up a track toward a higher level of the city. The curved, transparent walls and ceiling of the car gave the illusion that they were in the open air, as if they were riding the back of an enormous snake as it curled up and around the trees and bubble-shaped buildings. The higher they climbed, the brighter the flashes of light that sliced through the foliage.
Eventually, they broke through the canopy and into the full sunlight again, prompting Dib to shade his eyes. Zim’s attention was fixed on Dib’s face, documenting every expression, every shift of his gaze. He looked appropriately awed. Dendroba certainly couldn’t compare to the perfect urban efficiency of Irk, but Zim could still appreciate its appeal. There was a certain rush that came from skating above the tops of sail-sized leaves like this. That, and Zim’s time on Earth had instilled in him a mild affection toward trees. No living thing that tall could be too ugly.
Ahead of the tram, cradled by the leaves, sat a stadium-sized satellite dish. Dib cursed under his breath at the size of the thing, fueling Zim’s pride, even though the tech wasn’t Irken. The train slowed as it arrived at a platform under the edge of the dish. A cheerful chime sounded, and then the doors opened for the passengers to file out.
“Follow me. I’ll find a free booth,” Zim announced, taking Dib by the wrist again.
Zim tugged both of his companions forward, weaving between the other pedestrians through the wide halls of the communication hub. For all the grandeur of the city below, the hub itself was fairly plain. Its curving halls wouldn’t look out of place in an Earthen convention center.
The walls were lined with doors of various sizes, designed to compensation for the diverse demographic of visitors. Zim picked an adequately-sized door with a green light above it and herded Dib and GIR inside.
When the door closed behind them, it blocked out the noise of the other visitors completely. For the first time since they’d arrived on the planet, they were in complete silence.
A white pedestal stood in the center of the small, circular room. On the wall opposite it, a screen waited, displaying a message in several common galactic languages: “Please insert credits.”
“Wow, my ears are ringing,” Dib said.
Zim’s PAK legs immediately extended to hoist him to Dib’s level so he could inspect the human’s ear canals. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
“Jeez, Zim, easy!” Dib said, and gently pushed Zim back. “It’s just so quiet in here, that’s all! Why are you being so jumpy?”
“I’m not being jumpy,” Zim retorted, lowering back to the floor. “It’s just a new planet for you. Different atmosphere, different… I don’t know, different everything. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t caught ear slugs or something.”
“Ear slugs? Is that a real thing?”
“Very real, but not native to Dendroba,” Zim said.
“Also: yummy! If you find some, you gotta share. It’s the LAW,” GIR added. He unclipped his leash and began to entertain himself by rolling around on the polished, cloud-gray floor.
Dib stepped out of GIR’s way. “Everything is fine, Zim. You can relax. You told me yourself that Dendroba is perfectly safe.”
“Yes. I did,” Zim said, the twist in his gut tightening. “And Zim is honest, and wouldn’t hide any important information from you, so you can relax, too.”
Dib pressed his lips together. “Um, OK… That wasn’t… completely convincing, but whatever. How do we work this thing?”
Zim stepped up to the pedestal and inserted his (well, Skoodge’s) cred chip to activate it. A keyboard and assortment of other controls materialized on the pedestal’s surface. Zim typed in Earth’s galactic coordinates, dismissing the error message that displayed when he selected the “unregistered planet.”
“Now we must locate the Dib-sister’s cellular device,” Zim said.
“You know her name is Gaz,” Dib said as he lifted the TransDibber on his wrist and began to flick through screens.
Zim waved him off. “Just figure it out, Dib-stink. I need to fix GIR’s suit.”
GIR’s floor rotations had bunched the fabric around his joints, threatening to tear the seams. An exposed SIR unit was sure to raise alarms, so Zim took care to untwist the costume and fluff up its short fur into a closer semblance of a living mammal. While Zim worked on the squirming, resistant GIR, Dib tapped away on the pedestal, glancing between the large screen and the display of his wrist device.
“OK, I think I’ve got it!” Dib announced.
Zim patted GIR’s head and turned to Dib. “That quickly?”
Dib popped the collar of his coat with entirely too much confidence. “What, like navigating alien tech is a challenge to cosmic adventurer Dib Membrane?”
“Cocky little Earth-worm,” Zim muttered as he shoved Dib aside to check his work. “Huh. Looks like you found her. Ready to call?”
Dib nodded. “Let’s do it!”
Dib initiated the connection. Static buzzed for a second, then the gritty ring of a cellphone played through the room. One ring… two… three…
Zim’s squeedilyspooch spasmed again as Dib’s smirk slackened. Even GIR picked up on the tension, trotting up next to Dib’s leg and holding onto his pants with one paw in a gesture of support and anticipation.
Dib disconnected as the call went to voicemail. He drummed his fingers on the side of the pedestal.
“Try again?” Zim suggested.
“Yeah, if that’s OK,” Dib said, grinning, though his eyes weren’t in it. He pressed the “call” button and waited.
More ringing. GIR hopped up and down, tugging at Dib’s clothes and whining. Eyes still focused on the screen, Dib’s hand absently drifted to GIR’s head and started to massage the fluff between his fake ears. That settled the bot a little, but the low whine continued.
Voicemail again.
“I wonder how the call shows up on her phone,” Dib pondered aloud as the message recording played. “Maybe she’s screening it.”
“Then leave a message,” Zim said.
A beep, then Dib spoke. “Hi, Gaz. It’s Dib. I’m just checking in… I know it’s been a long time, and I’m sorry. We’re really far away, but there’s this communication hub, so… Um, call me back, I guess? Or wait… I guess you can’t really do that here.”
Dib glanced at Zim for confirmation. Zim shook his head, frowning.
“Yeah. So. Pick up the call next time? Please. Sorry, that sounded… Sorry.”
Zim tilted his head, confused by how swiftly Dib had gone from insufferably smug to bumbling and apologetic.
“Um. Love you. Talk to you later. Hopefully.”
Dib disconnected and planted his hands on either edge of the pedestal. He stared blankly at the inactive screen ahead of him, his teeth worrying his bottom lip again.
“… One more time?” Zim said.
“Does it cost each time we call?”
“It’s minimal,” Zim said.
Dib backed away from the pedestal. “Maybe she’s just busy. I don’t want to call her a bunch of times in a row if she’s sleeping or working or something. I don’t even know what time it is back home.”
“Perhaps we could return later?” Zim said.
“Yes. We could do that.”
No one moved for the door. Zim twined his claws together, overcome with unease. He cleared his throat. “Dib…?”
Zim jumped as Dib clapped his hands together and straightened his spine. “Yes!” he repeated, brighter than before, smiling in a way that Zim might describe as “crazed” in any other scenario. “That’s a good idea. Where to next?”
Zim perked up. Surely he was just overthinking things, as a mind as vast as his own was wont to do. “Cosmic adventurer Dib Membrane” posed before him, practically sparking with energy and curiosity. Despite a couple hiccups, everything was still going smoothly.
Zim smiled and cleared the pedestal of their inputs. “How about that relaxing place?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a spa day,” Dib said. “Lead the way!”
So relieved was Zim that he didn’t notice how Dib’s eyes lingered on the pedestal as Zim leashed GIR and strutted toward the door. He missed the fading flicker of Dib’s smile and the suppressed start of a sigh. Zim did sense Dib’s attention on his back while he opened the door, that now all-too-familiar stare Dib thought he was being sneaky about.
But it didn’t matter. Because Zim was fine, and Dib was fine, and today would be perfect. Or else.