"Friends of Z."

Up on a giant screen on a giant skyscraper in Neo-Neon Tokyo: Kajanas and a sorry-looking kid stood in front of a ruined building.

“One day ago,” a serious Kajanas explained, “Earth Planetary Manager Amadeus Lawrence decided to prank the innocent people of Ramble Station. One of his pranks involved blowing up the ovens of the city’s orphanage. Look at this child. This dirty, dirty child. He’ll have to sleep on the streets now because of one man’s ego.”

The kid opened his mouth, but another Martian walked him off-screen.

“Lawrence’s pranks have gone too far,” Kajanas continued. “He’s pranked me because I oppose the wasteful, unregulated War on Nothing. When rhetoric fails, villains resort to physical violence. Just look at Ramble.”

The camera zoomed back, revealing a smoking city and blackened buildings covered in strawberry goop.

“If President Vice-President and Congress won’t do something about this villain,” Kajanas warned, “Then the people of Mars will take matters into our own hands.”

The news clip ended, replaced by an animated high schooler eyeing the darkened finger of a classmate.

“Nani? You wanna do nani with that?”

FINGER GAME! - DEBUTS THIS FRIDAY AT OTAKU O’CLOCK

Zipper shook her head, put her hands in her pockets, and shambled aimlessly through Neo-Neon Tokyo. For the past few days, she hadn’t heard from Nat or Sue. They were off on their own adventures; quests only they could go on, for they had talent and (social) skills. Zipper merely had a plain face and an empty life.

She followed the Tama for hours, walked alongside empty train tracks, watched ducks play in one of the many urban ponds. Where do the ducks go in winter, she wanted to ask, but had nobody to ask. So she lowered her head and shuffled through the great metropolis of one billion where she had not a single person to talk with.

With nothing else to do, Zipper scrolled through the Hypernet, each post and comment appearing within her mind's eye. Having been off of it for a while, she forgot just how negative it could be - sports message boards, social media, even something as mundane as cooking forums. Her old pastime of arguing with Europeans just didn't seem that fun no more either. 

There was one bright spot, though - she learned of a Do-Nothing festival taking place in Tokyo tonight. A Japanese broadcasting company would be interviewing Lawrence tomorrow evening, so some Do-Nothings got the idea to gather nearby and protest, so more Do-Nothings got the idea to make it a festival. Zipper thought of going, but then remembered Kaede's words.

Zipper sighed. Compared to everyone she had met on this journey so far, she truly was a poser. 

Her feet ended up taking her towards the festival anyway. The interview would take place in a golden skyscraper; Polymermen in brown-colored working fatigues stood guard outside the front entrance, many carrying screaming eagle banners. On the other side of the street was a large park serving as the festival grounds. 

Zipper scooched into the park, aware of how fake she was compared to all these real Do-Nothings. They wore suits-and-ties, same as her, but they were probably smart and successful. Many held up signs exclaiming DOWN WITH WAR and NO MORE BOMBED ORPHANAGES. With the interview set for tomorrow night, some Do-Nothings set up tents across the park, ready for the long haul. 

One group of Do-Nothings passing out beers and cigarettes seemed particularly approachable. Zipper slunk over, gathering her courage, for talking with new people was scary, and she knew she was a loser, but only in those conditions can you truly be brave.

“S-Say, fellas, what’s the dope here?”

"Protest concert!" proclaimed a big bearded guy, holding a sign that said WAR IS BAD.

A Japanese guy cracked open a beer. "We're gonna be here all night! Let 'em bring in the hounds and the hoses, us Do-Nothings ain't going nowhere!"

“Neat-o,” said Zipper. She tugged at her collar. “Ya think, uh…I can join? Some people think I’m a bad Do-Nothing, but I swear, I’ll try really hard.”

A girl pulled on Zipper’s tie and smiled, offering her a beer. “Bad? Good? The world’s not black-and-white, nee-chan. If you oppose The Man, man, and wanna find meaning in life, then you’re in like Flynn.”

Zipper relaxed and accepted the beer. “Let’s fight the power, ol’ chum.”

What followed was approximately fifteen hours of open-air raving. One band after another played a new style of electro-psychedelia from their instruments, no alternative intelligences involved whatsoever, modeled after Joe Weeze and the Do-Nothings that started this whole trend. The bands plucked strings with their own fingers and played from the heart, music drifting into the neon swirling around the park, maybe a thousand or two thousand Do-Nothings bopping along, nodding heads, miming guitars, meeting new people, falling in love. These Do-Nothings came from all over the world, arriving to protest an old relic from a changing age, believing in something greater than themselves, a sense of community, youth in revolt…

“We could be like a, yanno, commune,” said the bearded guy, smoking a cigarette. “Or like a, dunno, autonomous zone.”

Ten festival-goers had assembled in a circle, drinking beer and ripping cigs. Zipper felt content and warmly drunk as they discussed their ideas for the coming fourth millennium.

“A commune would be great,” the girl from earlier added, her words slurred. “Like, robots can do all our work, and we could write poetry all day.”

“Rather than harvest planets,” said the Japanese guy, “We could put communes on each planet, horu?”

Zipper smoked an entire cigarette in one go, a big stick of ash falling to the ground. “Get this. Wh-what if we told Congress that until they stop the War on Nothing, we’ll, like, uh…Do-Nothing. Yah! Like…we won’t eat no more.”

The girl clapped. “A hunger protest!”

“Exactly!” Zipper drank more. “And, uh…we’re gonna starve to death. All the Do-Nothings. Unless Congress changes things up.”

The group all nodded and high-fived Zipper. She did a little happy dance, feeling so proud of herself. “Neat-o! Nothing’s stopping us. We can do it right on January 1st!”

Beardy thought about it. “That’s when the new Old Slappy’s burger comes out though.”

“Wha? But that’s a corporate burger.”

“A damn good one,” answered Beardy.

“Alright,” supposed Zipper, finishing another cigarette. “Then what about February 1st?”

“Ooooh, I got a vacation to Chongqing planned then,” said the girl.

Zipper sighed. “March 1st?”

“That’s my birthday week,” answered the Japanese dude.

“Alright…” Zipper soaked in the way everybody in the group of ten looked absolutely plastered. “Say…it’s not like we live busy lives now. Why do we need to wait for a commune to starve ourselves, or write poetry? Can’t we do that right now?”

Beard laughed. “How can I starve or write when I got a beer in one hand and a ciggy in the other?!”

“Nyuk-nyuk-nyuk!” laughed the group, ‘cept for Zipper.

“Uh-huh…”

The girl tugged on Zipper’s tie again. “C’mon, nee-chan. We’re protesting right now, aren’t we-”

She started vomiting on the grass.

“Uh-huh…”

The Japanese guy offered her another beer. “Think on it, nee-chan. All those political problems, all those creative problems, those can be solved tomorrow. Right now, you’re with good people, horu? Let’s just empty our heads and party, ‘cuz we’re all friends here!”

“Todomachi!” exclaimed the vomiting girl.

Zipper eyed the next beer. She ended up taking it. “Not everything needs to be political, I 'spose. Can’t a bunch of people just go out and have some fun without it being political commentary anymore? Let’s party all night, yah?”

Her group of ten all cheered. A small smile appeared on Zipper’s face. 

Watch out Sue, Nat, Kaede - Zipper Chute has found her people and is no longer a poser!

“But please stop calling me nee-chan…I don’t wanna feel that old…”