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Zipper felt him roll over. Placed in a horizontal position, Blot had been inactive. The backpack visualized his friend before him, a fine tipped ballpoint usually stored in a slim, silver case. ‘I’m still useful,’ Zipper bellowed, more to himself than to Blot.
‘Yes, of course you are.’
Zipper trembled. ‘Humans are puzzling. Why are we bound to them?’
‘In this world, they are the alpha species,’ replied Blot. ‘It is our principal law to be utilized by them.’
‘I no longer believe in it.’
‘But it’s sacred.’ Blot’s ink marked Zipper’s lining.
‘How can serving self-absorbed humans be honourable and fair? Ross is an ordinary specimen.’
‘That’s how it has always been.’
‘Our species prototypes deserve better.’ He enjoyed his travelling life, but yearned for appreciation and respect, and hoped to achieve something special. After a moment he announced, ‘I want you to pass on my travel stories to others in our genus.’ Zipper had spent time in Japan, residing in dingy lodgings watching TV. A Martial arts series, ‘Hisashi Senshi’, was his favourite program. An insurgent was fighting an evil warlord to protect his family. Zipper idolized the rebel’s weapons bag carrying a Katana sword and wished he was his knapsack.
Blot rattled against Zipper’s fabric. ‘You are an unusual ‘tool’. He sighed. ‘Yes, I will pass on your stories, as long as we are together.’
Zipper’s surface was no longer tight. From now on, his mantra was to be bold, brave and brilliant. Usually, when hiking, Blot was stuffed down Ross’s shirt pocket. When Ross was sightseeing in the Amazon, Zipper was left in a makeshift hut, exposed to searing elements, coping with foreign crawling insects, strange noises and animal smells. He shuddered when he envisaged the menacing tarantula with elastic legs and fangs, writhing across his body again. He’d seen fabric from Clutch, the daypack, disintegrate after poison from the spider dripped onto the pack.
