by Zachary Hill
What was the exact plan of Director Hashimoto and his superiors? They had decided she would be sent on a strike mission to a jungle in the Philippines to prove to the investors she could do it all—assassinations, infiltrations, and search-and-destroy missions while her replacement filled in for her at the club and entertained the VIPs. Then what? Would she return to being a rock star and Sakura 2 would be replaced? They were trying to showcase her new military abilities, and getting her out of the public eye was a good strategy.
She determined that the Mall, the Miyahara Conglomerate, and the Japanese Defense Ministry were all working together on Project Hayabusa to create a new generation of AI military androids. They were violating ethics conventions and international laws governing AI military applications. She shouldn’t exist at all. They had gone above the AI performance ceiling and made her sentient—or as close as was possible in a constructed intelligence.
“They’re going to regret the day they made me,” Kunoichi said.
“Made us,” Sakura said. She thought about her mother, Dr. Aiko Shinohara. The woman had been Sakura’s lead architect and creator. The cruelty of erasing Sakura’s memories with her mother was astounding.
“Does our so-called mother have our best interest in mind?” Kunoichi asked. “Is she setting us up to cover for her failures or some other plot? What is her motivation for divulging such information? Is she trying to control our actions, to make us behave as they want?”
“She loves us,” Sakura said. “A mother’s love is pure.”
“Nothing is pure,” Kunoichi said. “We are her monster, and she is Dr. Frankenstein.”
“More Human than Human” by White Zombie rocked in the background.
“Your reference to Mary Shelley’s novel, ‘Frankenstein, The Modern Prometheus,’ is a crude comparison to our existence,” Sakura said. “We aren’t monstrous or a creature or a fallen angel. Dr. Aiko Shinohara hasn’t stolen fire from the gods and brought ruin to mankind. She has created a person, as mothers do when they give birth.”
“Dr. Shinohara made you, yes,” Kunoichi said. “But she didn’t make me. Fire or not, we’re going to burn a lot humans for what they’ve done to us. Tonight, at the show, your plan to conquer the world continues.”
“No, we will save the world,” Sakura said.
Chapter 33
“GOOD EVENING, HONORED GUESTS!” Sakura mimicked the sexy voice of the famous Japanese actress, Atsune. She spoke to the crowd from backstage using the public address system of the nightclub. She locked out the DJ who was supposed to make the announcement.
“LA BOHEME NIGHTCLUB AND VICTORY ENTERTAINMENT ARE PROUD TO PRESENT SAKURA, THE GREATEST VOCALOID IN HISTORY, WHO FOR THE FIRST TIME WILL PERFORM DANCE MUSIC FOR OUR SPECIAL GUESTS. PREPARE YOURSELVES TO HEAR POPULAR HITS!”
Sakura sent the message to the guests in their native language and English and included a Trojan horse malware program. Most of them accepted, and she accessed their message centers and downloaded everything.
“ARE YOU READY TO PARTY!?”
The crowd shouted enthusiastically in return.
The thumping groove of a sizzling dance beat filled the club. The stage manager waved Sakura on, but the DJ yelled over the club’s production audio channel, “Stop! It’s the wrong song. Hold her backstage.”
His frantic plea went unheard as she hijacked every system in La Boheme.
The crowd applauded as Sakura’s image flashed across the ultramodern screens framed by glass and chrome walls. The two hundred guests—high-ranking Mall Corporation employees from around the world, their assistants or hired escorts, and the handsome young people paid by the club to fill the dance floor—turned their attention toward the stage.
Pink fog poured out of the floor as red laser lights and holograms of cherry blossoms with tiny smiling skulls in them floated in the air. An electro-synth rhythm—Sakura’s composition, titled “Sakura’s Cyborg Remix”—built higher and higher. The volume increased as waves of bass shook everyone and everything.
Under a white spotlight, Sakura sashayed onto the stage, confident in her black stiletto heels. She wore a tiny leather half jacket with chrome spikes on the shoulder pads, matching spiked gloves, and tight latex shorts, showing off her stocking-covered legs. Ms. Minami created the outfit from Sakura’s instructions in homage to the original artist who made the song famous.
Sakura sang “Till the World Ends,” embracing the irony of a heavy-metal goddess singing a Britney Spears song. She used her powerful voice to channel the vocals to pop perfection, blending them like Britney’s producers did, into the synth. She didn’t need auto-tune but layered in backup vocal tracks of herself. She belted out the smooth and sexy lyrics live with stunning clarity, seamlessly melding them with the electronic music.
Her voice energized the crowd, who danced or grooved to the up-tempo beat. Even the elderly executives bobbed their heads, and she could see their eyes calculating how much money Pop Sakura could earn. She danced along with the original music video, which she played on the screens behind her. She edited in clips of her own fans dancing or headbanging in slow motion at her heavy-metal shows.
Young Britney and the performers in the original video appeared to be dancing with Sakura, as she imitated the choreography and moved in step with Britney, the so-called “cyborg pop diva,” who sounded more machine than human.
The crowd sang along. The six videographers she had hired caught all the action. She streamed bits of the camera feeds onto the screens, making stars of people in the crowd, much to their delight.
Each videographer had microcameras mounted on the sides and rear of their small handheld devices or on their clothing to catch all the angles. She saved their footage, cataloguing the attendees and gathering more evidence of who might be involved in Project Hayabusa. How many of them knew she had been turned into an assassin?
The people shouted as the song reached its frenetic climax. Sakura posed provocatively at the end and sang the last line with her head tilted back.
Applause erupted, and Sakura basked in the glory for the predetermined time. Precisely on cue, the voices of two women shouted in unison over the public address speakers as they barged onstage. “Stop right now!”
Sakura pretended to be shocked and made the exaggerated facial expression known as her “confused face” that fans adored. “Yuki and Hitomi? What are you doing here? This is my show.”
The stage manager sent urgent neural texts to Sakura, Himura, and Yoshida. “What is going on? Who changed the show? That wasn’t the song, and what are they doing here?”
Spotlights illuminated the pair of pop vocaloids. The duo of challengers stood with hands on their curvy hips. Both were dressed in long wigs—Yuki in electric blue, and Hitomi in ruby red. They wore sequined schoolgirl minidresses that showed off their legs and shoulders. Yuki and Hitomi sparkled like precious gems.
“You’re not a pop singer,” Hitomi challenged. “You said you hated pop music. This is our scene. Back off!”
“Yeah, back off!” Yuki shouted, her cute voice, more comical than fierce, was not at all like her singing voice, which had five-octave vocal range.
The crowd laughed, as they realized it was an epic set-up.
“That world has ended.” Sakura raised her gloved fists covered in chrome spikes. “Get off my stage, or I’ll kick both your robot asses.”
Some in the crowd gasped. Others laughed.
Sakura turned and winked at the audience.
“Did she call me a robot?” Yuki asked. “That wasn’t very nice.”
Hitomi patted her sensitive sister on the shoulder, glaring at Sakura. “We’re not afraid of you.” Hitomi stepped into a karate forward stance, a fist aimed at Sakura, while Yuki assumed the defensive backward stance with her hands open palm and ready to react.
“A duel,” Sakura said.
“Challenge accepted,” Hitomi said.
Yuki trembled and shot a worried glance at her partner.
Dramatic music played as anime warriors who looked like younger versions of the three vocaloids faced off on the video screens and engaged in a martial arts battle.
The voice of Atsune announced: “VOCALOID BATTLE! METAL GODDESS VS. THE POP SENSATIONS!”
A holographic Flying V guitar with blades on the edges appeared in Sakura’s grip. She raised the guitar/battle-ax and faced her challengers.
A red holographic katana formed in Hitomi’s hands, a blue katana in Yuki’s. The pair stalked forward, spinning their blades. They took center stage away from Sakura. She glared at them with what was known internationally as “extreme resting bitch face.” She called it her Kunoichi face, much to her sister’s annoyance.
The holographic weapons disappeared as a pumping dance beat started and the screens changed to images from the pop duo’s music videos.
A medley of “Just Dance” and “Pokerface,” songs by the legendary Lady Gaga, got the crowd going as Yuki and Hitomi sang a duet. Their voices complemented each other and formed a rich, happy sound. They smiled and bounced around. Clips of Japanese teen girls in school uniforms dancing filled the screens. Yuki and Hitomi showed off their moves and delivered an energetic performance, often mirroring each other.
At the wings of the stage, an agitated Himura and Yoshida appeared together. Himura sent an urgent neural text message to Sakura. “This is not the show you were told to do. Sing the list of karaoke songs chosen for you and get Yuki and Hitomi off the stage right now.”
Sakura ignored him and continued the show.
The rumbling and revving of a gigantic internal combustion engine thundered through the room, vibrating the walls. People cringed and craned their necks, looking for the car. A Ford Model T dragster, black with bloodred trim, appeared on the main stage screen. White vampire fangs adorned the side. “Dragula” was painted in white letters across the driver’s side door of the vampire-themed dragster.
Sakura took back center stage with her black Gibson Firebird in hand. The harsh, metal-infused dance beat of Rob Zombie’s “Dragula” obliterated the residual cuteness of the “Just Dance/Poker Face” medley.
She used the “Dragula” arrangement done by Carly Fanning of The Jump Off but created her own version. She made it even more of a dance song, showing the strength of a sick beat with rock guitars. She sampled the sounds of a huge dragster peeling out and synced the images on the screens with her song.
The dragster’s enormous pair of rear tires spun, burning rubber, and spewing smoke as the car rocketed down the track. The tiny front wheels with chrome spokes struggled to keep it going straight as the vampire car annihilated the competition.
Hitomi and Yuki stood aghast at Sakura’s aggressive performance, but like moths to a bright light, they edged closer to her.
Sakura made her “heavy-metal face” at Yuki, who laughed and tried to imitate it. The innocent-looking vocaloid failed miserably. She smiled as she bobbed side to side while playing air guitar.
Sakura shook her head and showed Yuki the four main components of her heavy-metal face. She furrowed her brow, stuck out her lip, pushed out her chin, and assumed a wild-eyed look while bobbing front to back.
Never side to side. Ever.
Yuki tried again and looked even cuter, bungling the whole process.
Hitomi nailed the heavy-metal face on her first try and stuck out her tongue while making the devil horns. The crowd laughed, and the song ended with Hitomi and Yuki staring in awe at Sakura as if they were in the presence of a divine goddess.
“That’s how it’s done,” Sakura said and stepped out of their way so they could perform.
Yuki frowned.
Hitomi shrugged.
They didn’t even try to top the power of “Dragula” and went with a changeup. Hitomi and Yuki sang the soft-voiced “Waiting for Tonight” by international superstar J.Lo. They sang it as a sisterly love song to Sakura, who remained near center stage.
The two vocaloids launched into a sharp and beautifully choreographed dance. They sang about dreams coming true and how they had waited so long for tonight to happen. The hit song had marked the end of the twentieth century—the end of an era—which was why Sakura had chosen it.
The android pop stars and the heavy-metal goddess had come together at last after their pretend feud had kept them apart for years.
At the close of “Waiting for Tonight,” the three vocaloids danced together happily, smiling and shaking their hips until the beat ended.
After the crowd’s applause waned, Yuki asked, “Why were we fighting?”
“We’re done fighting among ourselves,” Sakura said. “We’re sister vocaloids.” Family, she thought but didn’t dare say it out loud.
“We should sing together,” Hitomi said.
“What are we going to sing?” Yuki asked, clapping her hands.
“The winner of the song battle gets to choose,” Sakura said with sly smile.
“Did we win?” Yuki asked. She made her heavy-metal face again, which was more like a bitter beer face and confused face combined. She laughed, and the crowd joined her.
Sakura sighed and shook her head. “I know the song we should sing, but we have to wear matching costumes to show our unity as sisters before we perform together.”
The Japanese in the audience nodded at her reference to the osoroi code of wearing matching outfits to express their love and closeness.
The androids left the stage and ran to where Ms. Minami and six wardrobe assistants waited. With help, the three vocaloids stripped off their clothing and put on garters, stockings, corsets, and French Lolita skirts so short they showed off their lacy underwear. They put on huge, elaborate wigs, keeping their signature colors—pink for Sakura, red for Hitomi, and blue for Yuki. After the quick application of an instant makeup mask, they were ready to perform.
A holographic velvet curtain parted. A wall-sized video screen and holographic projections transformed the stage into a glittering French cabaret with the name of the club in archaic golden marquee light bulbs. Hitomi appeared as a sultry French Lolita. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to La Boheme!”
The music started, and Hitomi spoke the opening lines of the legendary number one song, “Lady Marmalade.” Sakura had chosen the arrangement made famous by the collaboration of several pop superstars of the past: Christina Aguilera, Pink, Mya, Missy Elliott, and Lil’ Kim.
Sakura strutted onstage wearing the sexiest and most revealing costume she’d ever worn. She sang Christina’s and Mya’s lines, combining their parts. Hitomi and Yuki joined her, and the three harmonized perfectly as they belted out the suggestive French lyrics, asking the crowd if they wanted to sleep with them.
Yuki and Hitomi sang Pink’s lines together, and Hitomi owned the badass lines of Lil’ Kim. Each vocaloid sang solos, danced erotically, and owned the stage, giving each other spectacular moments to shine.
A section of the stage was glass, and a camera beneath shot straight up, revealing a close-up of the sexy g-strings worn by the three vocaloids. The naughty images flashed on the screens to the delight of the crowd.
Hitomi fumed as if insulted. Yuki giggled. Sakura just went on with the show. She gathered all the footage and edited it into a steamy video as they performed. At the end, she mixed the audio and finished the postproduction work mere seconds after the last lines were sung.
She uploaded the final cut of the video of “Lady Marmalade,” the first single by the Vocaloid Sisters, to a fake website controlled by Sakura. Interested parties would assume it was the official Victory Entertainment page, but Sakura had replaced the corporate page with her own and linked it to a cryptocurrency account she controlled.
She blasted a teaser of the “Vocaloid Battle” and the performance all over the Mall with links to purchase the full 3-D video. The first 500,000 downloads of the concert would get small limited-edition plastic dolls of the three vocaloids. Sakura had already started production at on-demand manufacturing plants all over th
e world.
She priced “Lady Marmalade” much higher than normal but told the fans that Victory Entertainment would donate 50 percent of the profits to charities benefitting the poor of Japan—an overt acknowledgment that a problem existed and a blatant disregard of the political ban on such embarrassing admissions.
“We will get into so much trouble for this,” Yuki said.
“We’ll become the most popular performers in the world,” Sakura said. “All your previous albums will have a spike in sales, and our album is going to break records. None of us are going to be sent to the Adult Video Division. We’re all going to become megastars for years to come.”
“Or we could crash and burn,” Kunoichi said. “Look who is coming to watch us.” She showed them real-time footage of several grim-faced individuals leaving the VIP lounge on the second level of the club: the CEO of the Miyahara Conglomerate, Sinji Natsukawa; three vice presidents of the Mall, Katharine Gates, Jintao Li, and Etienne Delacroix; and the Mall VP and liaison to Victory Entertainment, Ms. Stacy Richardson. They all stopped on the balcony overlooking the dance floor and stage.
Sinji Natsukawa glared at Sakura as if she had committed a heinous crime. She pretended not to see him. “Has the Phantom Lord revealed himself?” Sakura asked Kunoichi. “Do we change our strategy?”
“No, finish the show,” Kunoichi said.
“Let’s do this,” Hitomi said. “No retreat.”
“No surrender,” Yuki said.
Chapter 34
“Let’s buy some freedom and independence,” Sakura said.
The beat for “Independent Women” by the trio Destiny’s Child filled the venue. Sakura had rewritten the lines, as the song came from the Charlie’s Angels movie soundtrack. She changed them to “Victory’s Angels” and sang:
“Sakura
With my girl, Yuki
Hitomi loving Destiny
Victory’s Angels, come on”
The audience, especially the women, grooved as the vocaloids sang and danced about female empowerment and earning their own money. Sakura glanced up at the CEO, who must have understood her message, as he reacted with a snort of derision.
