In the neon-drenched alleyways of New Neo-Tokyo, where the electric hum of hovercars buzzed above like a swarm of bees, a man named Riko stumbled through the haze of holographic advertisements and wafting aromas of street food. Riko wasn’t your average citizen; he was a low-level data courier with a penchant for bad coffee and worse decisions. Today, however, he had a problem that was about to make his day infinitely worse.
You see, Riko had an unusual roommate—a zombie named Zed. Zed was a relic of the biowar that had ravaged the world decades ago, a misfit among the cybernetically enhanced denizens of this sprawling metropolis. Unlike the horror stories of yore, Zed was not your typical brain-eating monstrosity; he was more of a bumbling, half-decayed goofball with a penchant for dad jokes. He had a penchant for wearing Hawaiian shirts, a habit that made him the most colorful character in an otherwise drab and dreary world.
As Riko trudged through the streets, his mind was preoccupied with the mountain of data packets he needed to deliver by noon. He barely noticed the time slipping away, nor did he register the faint groans echoing from his apartment, where Zed was likely still lounging on the couch, lost in a world of infomercials and reality shows—his two great loves.
Upon entering his dimly lit apartment, Riko was greeted by the sight of Zed. The zombie was propped up in the corner, surrounded by a fortress of empty snack wrappers and a glowing screen where a cooking show was playing. Zed, with his decaying features and sunken eyes, looked almost cheerful, if you could ignore the occasional twitch of his decomposing limbs.
“Good morning, Riko!” Zed exclaimed, his voice a strange blend of gravel and enthusiasm. “Did you know that the secret ingredient in today’s dish is—”
“Sorry, Zed, no time!” Riko interrupted, already shoving his data packets into his courier bag. “I’ve got to deliver these before they explode, or something. Can’t have another late fee.”
Zed’s face fell, his eyes dimming slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Oh, sure! Go save the world, buddy!” He forced a grin that looked more like a grimace. “Just remember, you owe me a good morning!”
Riko waved him off, his mind racing with thoughts of deadlines and the risk of being late. As he dashed out the door, Zed sighed, slumping back into the couch. The zombie thought to himself, What does a zombie have to do to get a simple ‘good morning’ in this crazy world?
The day dragged on with Riko rushing from one corner of the city to another. He zipped through the crowded streets, dodging street vendors, neon-lit billboards, and the occasional rogue robot. As he turned in the last data packet, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He had survived the day—barely.
But as he made his way back home, a nagging feeling settled in his gut. He had forgotten something crucial—something important. He racked his brain until it hit him like a jolt of electricity: he hadn’t said good morning to Zed!
When Riko entered the apartment, he was greeted by the unmistakable aroma of burnt toast and the sound of Zed muttering to the television. The zombie was trying to prepare dinner, which was a terrifying thought in itself.
“Hey, Zed!” Riko called out, his voice a mix of excitement and dread. “I’m back!”
Zed turned, his arms outstretched dramatically. “Welcome back, my good friend! Guess what I made for dinner!”
Riko hesitated. “Um… burnt toast?”
“Exactly! But with a twist!” Zed exclaimed, holding up a plate that looked more like a science experiment gone wrong than a meal. “I added some of that spice mix you bought last week! You know, the one that expired two years ago!”
Riko winced. “You really shouldn’t eat stuff that’s expired, Zed.”
The zombie waved his hand dismissively. “Pfft, living or undead, who cares about expiration dates? That’s for squares!” He then leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Besides, I’m already dead! What’s the worst that could happen?”
Riko scratched his head. “You might turn into a zombie-zombie?”
Zed burst into laughter, a raspy sound that echoed off the walls of their cramped apartment. “Oh, Riko! You’re too much! But seriously, you forgot something today.”
Riko’s heart sank. “Oh no. Did I forget to pay the rent again?”
“No, no! You forgot to say good morning!” Zed exclaimed, his voice filled with mock outrage. “Do you know how that makes a zombie feel? It’s like forgetting to charge your cybernetic arm before a big heist!”
Riko chuckled nervously, “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Zed. Good morning! I hope it was… undeadly.”
Zed’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Good morning, Riko! Now, how about some of this gourmet burnt toast?”
Riko grimaced but couldn’t help but laugh. “You know what? Let’s do it! This will be the most unforgettable dinner ever!”
As they sat down to tackle the culinary disaster, Riko realized that life in the neon underbelly of New Neo-Tokyo wasn’t so bad, especially with a zombie like Zed around. They shared jokes, stories, and lots of laughter, the burnt toast forgotten in the haze of their friendship.
In that moment, Riko learned that sometimes, it’s the little things—the good mornings and the burnt toast—that make life worth living, even in a world where the dead walk and the living run like hell. After all, if you can’t have a laugh with a zombie, what’s the point?
And so, under the glaring lights of the city that never sleeps, Riko and Zed clinked their glasses of synthetic soda, ready to face whatever absurdity the next day would bring.
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