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“When was the last time you flossed?”
“Ah ‘unno, aye oo ‘ou aah?”
Dr. Iplier huffed a little, frowning at Bim in annoyance. As the only doctor that could interact with the Egos, he’d taken it upon himself to give them all regular checkups and try to keep them in good health. Even Dark had agreed to the checkup as a necessity: however, getting the Egos to sit still, together, for an hour or so was proving difficult.
“OW, ‘as aye ‘oof!” Bim drew back, pushing the Doctor’s hand and instruments out of his mouth. Wiping his mouth, he frowned. “Is this really necessary, Doc?Our teeth are fine, there’s no need to play dentist.”
Dark glared at him from the makeshift ‘waiting room,’ which was really just a row of chairs in the same room as the examination table. “I won’t have anyone in this building sick or having cavities–” he shot a look at Wilford, playing with a butterfly knife, “–much less myself.” He folded his arms and leaned back, stretching. “Suck it up, Trimmer.”
Bim shot Dark an angry look as he leaned his head back again, allowing Dr. Iplier to finish the exam.
“Just floss, and massage your gums more often,” the Doctor said, withdrawing the mirror and pick. With a wave, he dismissed a disgruntled-looking Bim, rubbing his tongue over his teeth. “Host, you’re next.” Dr. Iplier opened a new, sterile pack of instruments as the Host walked over and lay down.
“The Host would appreciate if the Doctor would explain what he is doing as he does it,” the Host said before opening his mouth, compliant.
Dr. Iplier was taken aback, but reminded himself that this was Host, after all. He had every right to be nervous with people poking sharp metal objects into his face. “O-okay. I’m going to tap and wiggle all your teeth, starting over here…”
“He’s a good doctor, y’know,” Wilford said, leaning over to Dark. “You can’t deny he’s got talent.”
“He has powers of healing, Wilford,” Dark said, barely constraining himself from recoiling. “We all have powers, and that just happens to be his.” He perked up a little, observing Dr. Iplier now asking Host to stick out his tongue. “That, and his skill set. It’s quite admirable.”
“Do I detect fondness, Darky?” Wilford leaned even closer, practically resting his head on Dark’s shoulder, a playful smile on his face.
“You detect annoyance.” Dark scowled and pushed Wilford away, moving to sit next to Bim instead. With a huff, he considered how much more bearable this would have been with the Googles present– however, as androids, they had no need for a medical diagnostic.
“We all have powers?” Bim looked at him hopefully, and Dark sighed inwardly. Bim was… Bim was too enthusiastic for him, sometimes.
“Indeed: the Doctor can cure, and see how long each of us have left; the Host can predict, manipulate, and narrate reality; and doubtless, you have already seen mine and Wilford’s abilities.”
Bim nodded, averting his eyes. Even being next to Dark was making him uncomfortable, like being too close to the speakers at a concert. His heart was pounding, ears ringing, and the room was suddenly too bright. He’d move away, but Dark was too close, and Bim too polite– besides, he had questions.
“You and Will are the oldest of all of us, right?”
“Ah, yes. You, the Doctor, and Host– then the Author– were created nearly two years after us.”
“Did it– did it take long for your powers to appear?” Bim was suddenly quieter, shy, and Dark shot him an annoyed look.
“As far as I know, our powers presented themselves immediately.” Dark looked at Bim again, who seemed to be shrinking into himself. “Trimmer, do you mean that your powers have not yet manifested?”
Bim nodded, a little sadly, and Dark felt a wave of contempt. How useless Mark was, to create a soft, naive Ego, one that was practically cowering before him. Bim sniffled a little, and Dark turned to see that Wilford was slowly inching towards them, seat by seat, a tell-tale glimmer in his eye. With a barely-audible sigh, Dark stood, again, to pace the room.
Suddenly, Dark felt… remorse? Why?
He looked at Wilford again, remembering. It had been just the two of them in the beginning, learning to exist separately from Mark, at odds with each other at every corner. Fading from power one too many times, before Mark decided to bring them back on a whim. Dark remembered the early days, fighting with Wilford, learning to control his power and, more importantly, his anger. Dark remembered himself, a man in a suit not unlike Bim’s, scared and alone and sad.
“Perhaps the Doctor will have an answer for you, Bim.” Both Bim and the Doctor turned to Dark, who was looking down at Bim with an almost fond expression.
Dark looked at Dr. Iplier. “Is there a way for you to run a diagnostic on whatever… powers we have, as well?”
The Doctor nodded, eyes suddenly alight with inspiration. “I’ve just finished with the physicals, so we can move to… ah, metaphysicals.” He turned to the Host, who was sitting up in the exam chair.
“The Host would be interested in a ‘check-up’ on each of the Egos’ abilities,” he said quietly, the hint of a smile on his face. “With your permission, I will go first.”
Dr. Iplier reached for his clipboard and ripped out a new page. “Okay, Host. We should check your ability to manipulate as well as predict.” Uncapping a pen, he began to scribble, then gestured to the Host to start.
“The Host is standing in the Doctor’s medical exam room, surrounded by the other Egos,” he started, and Bim shivered a little. There was power in the Host’s voice, and he knew it.
“Darkiplier paces the floor, somehow without noticing an untied shoelace. Warfstache flips a butterfly knife back… and forth… and back… and forth…”
The whole room watched in a trance as Wilford, frowning, varied the rhythm of his knife-flipping. The Host’s voice never wavered, accurately speaking every time the knife sliced through the air. Dark frowned, stopping his pacing to retie his shoe.
“Well,” Wilford huffed, sheathing the knife, “he seems to be able to predict pretty well. What… what is this ‘manipulating’ business?” He looked from Dark, to the Doctor, to Bim’s wide-eyed face.
“The Host would like to demonstrate, with the Doctor’s permission.”
Dr. Iplier finished his scribble, cursing at his stuttering pen, flipped to a new page, and nodded intently. “Go ahead, Host.”
“Despite having retied his shoe, Darkiplier finds that the lace is once again loose. Bim, who realizes that his mouth is hanging open, quickly closes it. Wilford has the irresistable urge to pull out his knife once again.”
“That’s not manipulating,” Wilford scoffed, leaning back in his chair once again. “That’s just the power of suggestion.” He flipped his knife back and forth.
Dark straightened up from retying his shoe. “The Auth– The Host is much more powerful than this, Wilford,” he warned. “I suggest that you don’t press him.”
“I-I’d like to see,” Bim stuttered, ears turning red.
The Host turned to Dr. Iplier. “Again, with your permission.”
The Doctor frowned. “As long as you aren’t straining yourself, Host, do it.” He licked the tip of his pen to hopefully, force it to write more smoothly.
“Wilford drops his knife, sending it scattering over the floor, under the exam chair.”
Wilford cursed as the knife flew from his hand. “I j-just dropped it, you’re psyching me out!”
“The Host reaches into his pocket, finding that the knife has somehow made its way there.” He lifted his hand out of his coat, the blade of the knife gleaming, pointed at Wilford. The room stilled.
Dark scoffed audibly, every line of his figure reading, “I told you so.” Bim, intimidated but refusing to admit it, watched the Host’s hand tremble with the effort.
“The Host throws the knife towards Wilford, who catches it without harm,” he narrated, Wilford again cursing as the knife flew at him, but catching it all the same.
“The Doctor finds his pockets grow heavy, and reaches in to find a new pen that does not stutter quite so much as the old one.” Dr. Iplier’s eyes lit up as he surveyed the pen, clicked it, and began to scribble more smoothly.
“Darkiplier stops pacing long enough to spot a small box on the ground, which he picks up to discover cufflinks, which the Host has been urging him to use for a long time.” Dark smiled as he surveyed the onyx buttons before tucking the box into his pocket.
“Thank you, Host.”
“The Host nods in response. He turns towards Bim–”
“Host, stop.” Dr. Iplier was suddenly at the Host’s side, supporting him. He’d begun sweating and gone pale, breathing labored with the effort of narrating objects into existence. “We can get back to that another time, yeah?” He shot an apologetic glance at Bim before leading the Host to a seat, settling him down.
“The Host– the Host apologizes.”
“That was pretty impressive, Hosty,” Wilford had conjured a candy cane out of thin air and was now curling his hair around it.
“Will, would you like to go next?” Dr. Iplier noted the way Dark looked suddenly nervous, sitting down a seat away from Bim.
Wilford shrugged and stood. “Yeah!” He threw the candy cane over his shoulder, where it disappeared, before clapping his hands together. A cloud of glitter drifted from his hands.
Clap.
The walls turned a violent, bubblegum pink. Dark wrinkled his nose at the smell of cherries and sugar.
Clap.
Bim, nervously tapping his foot, suddenly found the ground turn pliable, jelly-like. Wilford was beginning to bounce.
Clap.
Dr. Iplier, Bim, Dark, and the Host were all floating in bubbles above the ground.
Clap.
The walls began to cave inwards, twisting into pinstripes, falling into a candy-cane spiral–
“STOP!”
Clap.
The room returned to normal, and Bim ran to where Dark was hunched in his chair, hands over his ears. Dark looked up as Bim reached him, and Bim stopped dead in his tracks. Black miasma dripped from Dark’s eyes, smoking from his mouth. He bared fangs.
“Don’t. Touch. Me.”
Bim backed away as Dark straightened up, blinking hard. His eyes returned to normal.
Wilford looked him over in concern. “Sorry, Dark.”
Dark shook his head, looking paler than usual. “It’s… fine.” He cleared his throat and turned to glare at them all until, one by one, they dropped their gaze.
Dr. Iplier stepped forward, pen tapping in the silence. “Um, Dark… I hate to ask, but could you…”
Dark stood a little too quickly, and took a breath to steady himself. “Of course.”
Breathing slowing, he held his hands out, concentrating deeply. Bim shivered, the room growing cold. He jumped– the bulb in the center of the room fizzled and went out. The five of them waited in silence, eyes on the patch of darkness where Dark stood.
Dark was mumbling, strange syllables in an ancient language. The room strained to hear him, but couldn’t make out a word.
With a small exclamation, Dark opened his hands. The light flickered back to life, but the room was somehow darker.
“Woah,” Bim said, moving forward. Dark held, by some immense power, a swirling mass of black smoke. Looking at it, Bim felt his hair stand on end. There was something in there, images floating across the surface, smoke curling into familiar shapes. Bim stepped closer–
“Darkiplier lowered his hands, stopping his show of power.” The Host’s voice trembled with the effort, but his words were sharp and clear.
Dark glared at him as the smoke dissipated. Bim and Dr. Iplier blinked, feeling as though they were waking from a dream.
“That was, uh…” The Doctor looked at his clipboard and shuddered, quickly flipping the page. Bim caught a glimpse of a drawing, violently traced in black ink.
“Always the showstopper, aren’t ya, Darkipoo?” Wilford was lounging, unimpressed, candy cane between his teeth.
Dark smoothed back his hair, trying not to show the strain. “Quite.” He sit back down smartly, raising an eyebrow at them all.
Dr. Iplier sighed, running a hand over his forehead. “Now that that’s over, I think we’re done for tod–”
“Wh- what about me?” Bim’s voice was smaller than it ever had been, blushing deeply.
The Doctor looked at him blankly. “Do you have anything to show us, Bim?”
Bim winced at the words, looking at the others for support. Wilford was now picking his teeth with the candy cane, sharpened into a point, and Dark was pointedly avoiding his eyes. The Host tapped his foot gently in his corner.
“I- I don’t know. I should, though, shouldn’t I?”
“Technically speaking, we don’t know,” Dr. Iplier said, tone almost pitying. “The Googles don’t have any ‘powers,’ but then, they’re sentient robots.” He shrugged uncomfortably, aware that the room was hanging on his every word. “You may have powers that are yet undiscovered, you may not have any at all. You can only wait for them to show up.”
“But shouldn’t they have shown up by now?” Bim’s voice was pleading, desperate, and he saw the Host shift out of the corner of his eye.
“I… I think so, Bim.” As Bim stood, the Doctor put a hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with that–”
Bim felt shame, anger, tears filling his eyes, and turned to leave the room.
“As Bim turned to leave the room, filled with emotion, something stirred inside him,” the Host narrated, his voice filling the silent room. Bim stopped, shaking, as Dark, Wilford, and the Doctor whipped around to look at him.
“Bim, having been an entertainer, normally controlled his emotions– to a fault,” the Host droned on, and Bim felt his heartbeat quicken. “As of late, he has been more empathetic than ever, and he now feels the results of those emotions rush into him.”
Bim was shaking, tingling, knowing that every eye in the room was on him. With difficulty, he turned to face them. Wilford was incredulous, Dark amused, the Doctor scribbling frantically.
The Host’s brow furrowed as he continued. “Bim felt the power flow though him, becoming one with him, rushing into a place it had for so long longed to fill. He lifted his hands–”
From Bim’s fingertips came a soft, bright light.
The room was spinning, each Ego trying to predict what was going to happen.
Dr. Iplier was still writing frantically, taking notes on the Host’s power as well as Bim’s. Everyone’s power was related to their ‘function’ in some way– he could heal, the Host could narrate– Bim had been a game show host, hadn’t he? What kind of power could that possibly give him?
Wilford watched in astonishment, calculating. Bim, his assistant, the ‘wanna-be’ TV star, stood i shock with light exploding from his hands. How? Why? What did this mean?
Dark sat back in his chair. Well, it had had to happen eventually. He couldn’t be that powerful, a young, soft-hearted Ego. Not a threat, but interesting enough. Flashes of a meat grinder, mercilessly chewing through contestants, buzzed though Dark’s mind, and he sat up, suddenly more invested.
The light grew stronger, and the room looked away. A flash, and the bulb above them all burst. They were left in the darkness of the room, the only light filtering from the hallway behind Bim.
Framed in the doorway, Bim’s silhouette lifted its head.
Dr. Iplier stepped forward, the only movement in the room. “Bim…?”
Bim opened his eyes, slowly. The world was still spinning around him, but something was different. He was different.
“I’m okay,” he said, and his voice came out in a way that wasn’t familiar, but undeniably his.
His voice shimmered in the air, and every Ego hung on his words. Bim snapped his fingers, and the light in the room turned back on. He saw them all as if for the first time, staring intently at him.
For once, he didn’t feel scared, even seeing Dark’s eyes boring into him.
Bim smiled. “In fact, I feel great.” He could see the Host smirking proudly, if a little pale, out of the corner of his eye.
He took a step back into the room, and felt the room spin again. He was falling to his knees, suddenly weak–
A chair materialized under him, and suddenly, Dark was over him, every movement suggesting concern. Dark sank to his knees, and Bim, somewhere in the back of his mind, struggled to understand. Darkiplier, the Darkiplier, on his knees before him, staring up with something like wonder.
“Irdu lili,” Dr. Iplier breathed.
In a moment, the spell was broken. Bim felt his anxieties rush back into him, his hands beginning to shake.
Dark threw himself backwards from Bim, looking confused, then fearful, then angry. He stood up, straightening his suit, and backed quickly away. “A what?” he spat at the Doctor, who was staring in wonder at Bim.
“An incubus,” the Host said, faintly, but proudly, staggering to his feet. “Bim is an incubus.”
Wilford, looking disgusted with himself, stood. Bim, realizing that he was the only one still sitting, jumped to his feet. The chair under him, Dark’s creation, disappeared.
“Well,” Wilford said, raising an eyebrow, “you have powers.”
The room was silent a moment longer, all eyes on Bim.
Finally, Dr. Iplier tapped his clipboard. “I believe– I believe that I have all that I need for today. You’re d-dismissed.” The four of them shuffled to the door, the Host with a hand on Wilford’s arm, and dispersed into the hallway.
Wilford, shaking away the Host’s hand, stalked upstairs without looking back at the rest of them. Distantly, they heard a door slam.
Dark turned to Bim, face passive. “That was… impressive.”
“Y-you really think so?”
“Indeed. Perhaps… perhaps I shall find a use for you yet.” With a sleek smile that sent an uncomfortable shill down Bim’s spine, Dark walked away, down the hall to his office.
Bim turned to the Host. “I don’t know how to t-thank you.”
The Host smiled, putting a hand on Bim’s shoulder. “The Host believes it is reward enough to see Bim at his fullest potential. Would Bim kindly walk the Host to his room?”
“O-of course.” Bim moved to take the Host’s hand, but he waved Bim away.
“The Host would only enjoy the company.”
In silence, they walked down the hall. Bim felt his heart beat a little faster in pride, in excitement. “Thank you, Host.”
They stopped outside the Host’s door, and the Host turned to him, still smiling gently. “It is the Host’s hope that Bim will use his power to it’s full extent. And,” his face dropped a little, “that Bim will use it well.”
With a turn of the handle and click of a lock, the Host was gone, and Bim was alone in the hall.
Use it well, the words echoed. Bim’s eyes were alight with opportunity. He had power, he had something. He could even do finger magic, like Dark and Will! He snapped his fingers gently, and the light in the hallway flicked off. Another snap, and it turned back on.
Use it well. Bim turned back down the hallway, letting the sparking light fill him with confidence once more. He squared his shoulders, straightened his tie, and felt, rather than saw, his fingers glow. Full to the brim with anticipation, he felt a confident smile grow on his face.
And now, he thought, it was time to preform.
“Hey, Google!”
…
Ten minutes later, Bim found the unfortunate truth that he could not, in fact, seduce a robot.