Chapter One
Prototype
When my boss had told me about the Crypton company’s big project, this is far from what I had envisioned. Crypton had been developing, ‘digital idols.’ That’s how he put it, anyways. But what I saw that day wasn't some mechanical doll or plaything; it was a living, breathing person: human. The woman in the glass tube looked like she was sleeping: a sleeping angel.
“Miss Jameson, again, we are so very happy that Yamaha America decided to invest in our project. I do hope you have enjoyed your stay in Tokyo. Is everything to your liking?” The chief of their research and development team was a rather little man, though his voice had a habit of echoing down the halls like a screechy, brass horn. He had the distinct smell of soap on him; granted, the entire laboratory smelled like soap and cleaning supplies. It was a sea of white, chrome, and glass.
“Her body…, what’s it made out of?” I couldn't take my eyes off of her, the sleeping girl suspended in the glass chamber: Crypton’s, ‘diva.’ “Is she composed of cybernetics?” I looked over the information sheet on my clipboard, but it was less of actual information and more of prose.
“Parts of her brain are entirely cybernetic, the parts that contain the program, and the other parts were grown organically, here in the lab. Just as her body was engineered from stem cells. Her organs are completely functional; well, perhaps more than just functional. She’s without flaw: our definition of a perfected specimen.”
“What you’re telling me, Mister Seguchi, is that aside from cybernetic enhancements, this girl is completely human? You have to understand, Yamaha works with technology and the physical sciences, but this is…- something else. Something biological. You can’t play God and expect there not to be any flaws.”
“Do not worry yourself, Miss Jameson. If there were any flaws, we would not have told Mister Dimitri that we are ready to have a demonstration. There will be a car to pick up the two of you later tonight; it has all been arranged.” He sounded so sure of himself. Still, I found myself questioning. Perhaps it was just my inquisitive nature, or my deeply-rooted sense of morals. I still wonder, what made me have that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Does she have a name?” The girl in the glass chamber, with her short, caramel hair and lightly-pinkened skin kept her eyes closed. I wondered if she was even alive; there was a part of her that seemed doll-like.
“Her name is Meiko. She is the first of her kind, but we plan to make more. Many more. We would not want her to feel lonely.” For the first time, I heard him laugh, but it did not sound sincere. Mister Seguchi was attempting humor. “She is special, this one. Her vocal chords can withstand many long hours of singing, and her physical stamina will be magnificent.” He chuckled again as he said that, a piggish sort of chortle that made me feel even more uneasy.
“Is she modeled after anyone in particular?” As I pushed my glasses further up my nose and stared down at the various musings on my clipboard, I couldn’t help but worry for her fate.
“Meiko is an original. The team got together and created what we envisioned to be a popular Japanese idol. What do you think of her, Miss Jameson?”
“She’s beautiful, Mister Seguchi. But what if she doesn’t want to sing anymore? If she’s almost as human as we are, and she has her own thoughts and feelings, what if she decides that she does not want to be an idol? What if she wants to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher?”
“Her brain is quite literally wired to enjoy singing. Just as human beings feel the need to mate like animals, she will be satisfying her need to be on stage. Experiencing what you were made to do is the ultimate form of satisfaction. “
After taking one last look at the, ‘diva,’ Meiko, I gave a slight nod and excused myself. “Until later, Mister Seguchi. I am going to meet with Mister Dimitri back at the hotel.”
“Sayonara, Miss Jameson. Until later.”
For whatever reason, I was fairly glad to smell the smoggy, city air as I exited the complex. My town-car arrived swiftly, and I made myself comfortable in the back. It was raining that night, and I felt compelled to light a cigarette inside of the car.
“What is pretty blonde like you doing out in rain?” He spoke English as best as he could. Most Japanese men spoke at least some English, which made my life easier, as I was just now learning the ins-and-outs of the language myself. I hadn’t been with Yamaha for very long, but Mister Dimitri had taken a liking to me. We often had visits with representatives from the Japanese offices, so it was important for me to know the customs of Japan’s business world.
“I was in a meeting.” As I took a lengthy drag from the cigarette and a light plume of smoke flared at my nostrils, somehow the blurry lights shining through those tinted windows took my mind off of the questions barraging me. At least, for a moment. “I’m here on business.”
“What do you think of Tokyo?” The older man driving the black car spoke with a gruff friendliness that I preferred over the unnecessarily loud voice of Mister Seguchi. Oddly enough, his tone of voice reminded me of my grandfather, minus the accent.
“It feels like I’m in the future, that’s for sure.” With a quiet sigh, I put out my cigarette in the ash-tray on the side of the car-door. If it’s one thing American and Japanese businessmen had in common, it was their love for expensive cigars; luxury cars were well equipped for them. “Sometimes I feel a little old-fashioned; I work in building the future, and yet for some reason I want everything to just…, slow down.”
“Enjoy little things.” He looked over his shoulder for a brief moment and flashed a friendly smile. I couldn’t help but return his smile with an earnest one of my own, and before I even realized how much time had passed, we arrived at the Hyatt Regency Toyko.
“Mister Dimitri.” I nodded in greeting towards my boss as I entered the room. While we shared a single room, we had our own separate beds, which put my mind at ease. Not that I thought he would make a move, but a girl can’t be too careful. There was a small desk and chair in the corner of the room, which I took a seat on. The boss was a tall, tan-skinned man with a rather quiet disposition. Somehow, he always knew to turn his personality up a notch around his business partners. “What do you think about all of this, honestly? Doesn’t it sort of feel like slavery? Forcing a human being to entertain us?”
“She is not a human being, Miss Jameson. You cannot compare the two.” The room smelled like cigarettes and coffee; at least it was a smell I was familiar with.
“Human skin, human organs, and a human brain. A few cybernetic enhancement doesn’t rob her of her humanity. If her brain is like ours, won’t she have thoughts, and feelings? This feels like crossing the line.”
“I would spend less time worrying and more time getting ready. It’s not your job to question, it’s your job to take notes and let me do the decision making.”
“Yes…, Mister Dimitri. I’m sorry if I was stepping over the line.” With a quiet sigh, I stared at myself in the mirror, growing absent-minded for as long as I could get away with it.
At nine o’clock, we finally returned to the complex. Mister Dimitri had insisted I dress a little more, ‘casually,’ for the display, but I settled on one of my suits. It was still raining, but rain was also something that I enjoyed. Upon arrival at Crypton’s building via the town-car Seguchi promised, we made our way to the auditorium in silence. No longer filled with vacant thoughts, I thought of her, of Meiko.
“There you are! Good, good. Please, have a seat." As Crypton’s showman beckoned us over like a circus ringleader, I couldn’t help but see the intrigue brimming on my boss’s face. And so we sat in the vacant hall, which was occupied only by the two of us and a band of Seguchi’s men. “Today, we are going to celebrate Meiko’s birthday!” Our eyes were already on the stage as lights began to cascade down from the ceiling.
As the first hum of music filled the air from the speakers, all of us, even myself, seemed to shiver with anticipation. I blinked, and what seemed like a flash, Meiko was there. As the background music grew louder, she stood there like a porcelain doll. I wondered if maybe they had failed to awaken her. But then, as her eyes brightened, the diva gave a brilliant smile and started to sing.
As those first phrases danced along my eardrums, I realized that she was not a girl, but rather, a woman. Her voice was rich, and full of a sort of seasoned emotion that only a well-traveled soul would hold. Ironic, considering the situation. Yet still, somehow she convinced me. Meiko sang those Japanese words that I could barely understand with my lack of experience in the language, belting through her mid-tempo pop song. She had just been born in front of me, and yet somehow, I felt as if I knew the kind of woman she was. The diva sounded happy, and that put me at ease, if just a little. Perhaps someone being granted the gift of life should feel that way.
Meiko concluded her song and the men gave her a round of applause, but I remained silent. What would happen to her now? Was she intelligent, or would she have the mentality of a young child? I watched the newborn look around the auditorium, still seeming content with the performance she had just gave us.
“Well done, Meiko! Happy birthday! You are a star!” I could see dollar signs in their eyes. That and this aura of satisfaction that I could literally smell off of them.
“A star.” She spoke to us in clear English, although in a form of mimicry. I considered the fact that the majority of her brain was enhanced with technology; her capacity to learn would surely be advanced.
“Mister Seguchi, will Meiko have proper living arrangements, and a tutor?” While I asked questions yet again, Mister Dimitri simply sat beside me with a smug grin. He knew he had made the right decision with his investment. “I know that she’s just a prototype, but surely you will ensure that she’s well taken care of?”
“Yes, yes. It has already been arranged. Do not worry so much, Miss Jameson. We will take good care of her.”
“Can you make more of them?” My boss stood on his feet, his eyes on Meiko. He was taking her in, from her hazel eyes to the red latex costume they had her in. It was sporty, a vest covering only her chest and leaving her navel exposed, with a second piece making up a short skirt. It was typical fashion in the Japanese pop-world: bright and sexy.
“Yes, we plan to. We are in a lucrative business, now. Can we count on Yamaha’s support for our future endeavors?” Seguchi’s loud voice filled the room again, but was met in counter by one much smoother, and softer.
“It’s not about the business being lucrative, chief.” All of us turned around. While Meiko was left standing there on stage, our eyes turned to the source of the voice, which I hadn’t heard before. Standing a few rows back was a man in a long black coat, whose face was difficult to distinguish in the dim light. I knew from the tone in his voice that he was Japanese, but his English accent was crystal clear. “The Vocaloid project is about giving a voice to those who don’t have one. To share the music inside of all of us and let the idols bring our visions to life. This is about revolutionizing music, and don’t you forget that.” When the mystery man put it in those words, somehow, I was finally able to understand. The figure stepped forward, approaching the stage. I got a better look at his face: he was handsome, young. He looked to be in his late twenties, just as I was. “Think of those who wish to sing out to the world when no one else will listen. Meiko will sing for them, and their messages will be heard.” Turning, the man approached Mister Dimitri and I.
“I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted yet, sir. Are you head of the project? My name is Andrew Dimitri: head of Yamaha America. I very much enjoyed your demonstration.” My boss extended an arm to shake the man’s hand, but the man didn’t shake it, so he lowered it awkwardly.
“Thank you, for your time and investment. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you many times in the future. Now, please excuse me. Seguchi, make sure Meiko makes it back to her new domicile sooner rather than later.” As swiftly as he had arrived, he disappeared. While Seguchi and the boss murmured away in their random musings, I slipped away quietly. Making my way to the nearest exit, I lit up a cigarette and sighed. But before I had the chance to indulge in the cool night air, I felt a swift jolt of pain at the back of my head. In a disoriented blur, I felt the cold pavement on the skin of my face, and then there was nothing.
“Wake up!” I gasped back to life as water doused my throbbing head, sending me into a frenzy. Despite my thrashing, I found myself unable to move, as I was chained securely to a metal chair. “What is your name?” A man’s gruff and angry voice spoke to me as my muscles clenched in fear.
“Where am I!? I suggest you let me go, now!” I spoke firmly, attempting to hold my ground. There was a light beaming down on me from above, making my eyes squint as they tried to break through their haze.
“Do you hear that, boys? She suggests.” As my vision shifted back into focus, I saw three men surrounding me and circling me like scavengers, their faces obscured by black ski-masks. Suddenly, my inquisitor’s hand flung against the side of my face, causing my head to jerk and a whimper to flee from my quivering lips. He made his point, and I was completely terrified. “I’m going to ask you again. What is your name, blonde?” His gloved fingers clenched against my jaw as he held my head in place. Tears of shock and fear began to peak from the corners of my eyes.
“Jameson. Lia Jameson. What do you want with me?” There was still a shred of defiance seething from my tone of voice. Although, I tried to hide the shudder of my fear and failed.
“What do you know about the Vocaloid project?” His grasp on me tightened, those glove-covered fingers digging into my reddened flesh.
“You should…- talk to Crypton, not me. I don’t work for them.” My chest was pounding. Who were these men? What were they after? My tone was defensive once more, and I couldn’t help but squirm against my chains, even though I knew it wouldn’t do any good.
“We have you here, so you’re just going to have to do.” His hand moved from my face and instead grabbed my ponytail, yanking a fistful of hair back so my neck bent and I was forced to stare up at his masked face. “Who do you work for, American?” I realized, then, that although my captor just called me an American, he sounded the same himself. There was no accent present, according to my ears.
“...Yamaha. Yamaha America. My boss and I came here to go over some business with the Crypton Organization.”
“We know you were at the presentation. Tell us, how does it feel knowing you’re doing business with slave owners?”
“What are you, activists? Listen, I understand how you must feel, I had some of the same concerns. But although I had my doubts, the prototype seems happy and well taken care-of. Now please, let me go. I have no other information to offer you, I know only what I witnessed today. I’m an executive assistant, and that’s all.”
“Well taken care of, like a pet? A human woman forced to life the life of an obedient dog? She may as well have a collar around her neck!” His gripped tightened on my hair for a moment, causing me to give a quiet whine in protest. But then, he released me, making me gasp and shudder with relief. “The girl’s useless. Put her back where you found her.” As those words left him, my eyes widened. I braced myself for another blow to the head, but instead I felt a sharp prick at my neck. One of the men had shoved a syringe into me, and once again everything started to fade away. Before the blackness returned for me, I heard them say one final thing.
“Convince Yamaha to drop out of their contract with Crypton, or you’ll be seeing me again.”
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