Zim pushed through the ruckage in the old room. Eventually he found what he was looking for. Brushing the dust off a large portal, he grinned as the machine rumbled to life. The familiar spiral of light glowed in the gloom. In the faint purplish light, Zim admired his newest invention. The Destroy-o-matic. Flawless. Beautiful. And completely compatable with the space-time-object replacement device. Zim grinned, a frightening smile.

Twelve years earlier
Patricia Membrane tucked her infant daughter into her crib. Across the room, her son, still only a one year old toddler, slept peacefully. She smiled, and quietly shut the door, so only an inch of light from the hall came through.
In the kitchen, a pile of dishes greeted her, along with a stack of papers on her latest cure, that still had to be filled out. On the top of them was a note from her husband, apologising for being late again. She filled the sink with warm water.
A bright light blazed instantaniously in the hallway. She spun around. A machine, six feet tall, at least, towered there. It looked ridiculously out of place next to the light yellow walls and family pictures. Tiny lights flichered along it's long arm, and it headed for the slightly open door.
"No." She whispered, and grabbed a long steak knife out of a drawer. She hoped to get close enough to do some damage without it noticing her.
She crept silently along the wall, and the android didn't notice, until she slammed the knife up to the hilt into what would have been it's shoulder. The arm flopped, almost useless. Patricia slashed again, this time going through the rubber on the joint that would have been it's neck.
The robot's single eye blazed red, and she felt a burning pain in her stomach. The thing had some sort of laser. She looked at the smoke raising from a red-hot lens on it's chest. The useless knife mangled and stuck in the gyrating neck, she went for the next best thing.
She thrust her hand into the small space around the lens, and pulled. She heard something crack. The lens came off in her hand. The machine was designed to destroy, not defend. The burning on her hand was ignored, and she focused on her abdomen. Even if she wasn't a doctor, she could see it was bad.
In the bedroom, Gaz began to cry. The robot's eyes flashed again. It's metal face bore a resembalence of a grin. It moved toward the door, Patricia sinking to the floor behind it. Gaz screamed, the sound of an infant in terror. After a second, Dib screamed too. And Patricia found the strength to stand. She leaned heavily on the door frame, almost falling into the room.
The robot was walking slowly toward Dib. He sat on his bed, paralyzed with fear.
Looking around, she saw a wooden lamp. Hefting it like a club, she swung it around, slamming it into the robot's head, knocking it all but off. It sparked, fizzled, and fell. She slammed the heavy lamp post into it again and again, smashing it into so many wires and scrap metal pieces.
"Sh-hh" She whispered. Dib settled back into bed, peering fearfully at his mother. Gaz slowly stopped crying. Patricia heard a door open.
"Honey? I'm home!"
Professor Membrane's voice echoed through the house. Patricia didn't answer. She couldn't. The last thing she was was her husband standing in the door. Then everything went black.

Professor Membrane didn't look at the box. The black box, quickly being buried in the Earth. That was all that was left of his wife. His only love.
"I should have been there."
The last piece of the coffin disappeared under the falling dirt.
"I could have saved her."
He stood through the long line of mourners, telling him how sorry they were for his loss. Old women who he presumed were related to her held Dib and Gaz. And Professor Membrane thought. So many people crying. For only one death.
"I am going to find evry cure. A cure for everything. A cure for death."

The Professor was never the same after that. Because he really did believe, if he tried hard enough, if he helped enough people, that somehow, it would fix his own life. That it would bring back the one thing that had ever made him happy.
And in his blind search for the cure, he missed it entirely. Because she left behind two pieces of herself. If he would only see them.