by Diana Jean
chapter FOUR
Tamura had to be punishing her. She was probably pissed that Kathleen was just about the only subordinate that dared to speak against her. Kathleen knew her other Japanese coworkers could be stubborn. But they tended to have that silent, passive-aggressive attitude. Kathleen was anything but passive, was probably why most of her review meetings had ended up being sort of a disaster.
At least they hadn’t fired her yet.
Before Kathleen came abroad, the PLC project had been falling way behind schedule. When she arrived three months ago, the beta stage had been slated for two years away. She thought they had been impressed with her six-month improvement. She had slaved away for that result. Countless nights bringing code up to par, arguing with and Engineering. During that time, if Kathleen wasn’t in her apartment sleeping, she was at work.
Kathleen pressed her thumb against the lock, and her door snapped open. Despite the modern lock, it was an old metal door, heavy and loud whenever it opened or closed. She leaned against it, stepping into her apartment and kicking off her shoes at the entry. It felt way too good to feel the hardwood floor through her stockings. She only took enough time to grab a can of beer from the fridge before she practically skated over to the low table, falling to her knees beside it.
Living in the company housing meant she hadn’t needed to buy furniture. But it also meant that everything was a little more Japanese than she was used to. Her table, which she kind of always thought of as a coffee table even though it was probably closer to a dinner table, was low to the ground. She’d been given flat cushions to sit on, but even after so long, she still wasn’t quite used to eating and working on the floor. She had a TV, which she barely used, considering she couldn’t even properly pronounce the few words she knew in Japanese. She would kill for a couch.
Her kitchenette was only separated by a counter, but at least it was sizable with a fridge, oven, and four burners. She was grateful to have a separate bedroom with a proper “western” style bed. She probably would have cried in that first week if she had to both eat on the floor and sleep on a futon. She also had a small bathroom with a separate room for the toilet. She’d even gotten something of a crazy deep tub, though it wasn’t long enough for her to stretch out. She knew Japanese people tended to soak in bathtubs, but Kathleen only knew how to work the shower.
She leaned heavily against the table, pressing the cold can of beer to her cheek. It was cheap Japanese beer, but it was tolerable. And on nights like this she needed it. Her back and legs ached from sitting at her desk for the rest of the day, desperately trying to make a format for the reports she would soon be filing. She pulled her computer from her bag.
It was only a small black cube with a power button and some access ports. It was surprisingly heavy for its size, simple, and a little outdated compared to newer models. But Kathleen had been using it since she was a programmer in America. Mashida would provide her with an upgrade, but Kathleen wasn’t quite ready to get rid of the device that had started her career. She placed it in front of her, tapping it so her screen and keyboard displayed before her as holos.
Her document was up, slightly translucent as she was able to see her kitchen behind it. She flicked it aside, looking for a better distraction.
Her wrist buzzed and her computer, automatically synching with it, displayed that she had an Internet call from her brother.
Sitting up, Kathleen opened it. “Good morning, Dave.”
He looked like he had just gotten in from one of his ungodly early morning runs. His curled hair was damp and his cheeks were flushed. He smiled at her and she felt her heart squeeze. With all her family living in a thirteen-hour difference, it was hard to find good times to call them. Dave had done better than her parents. But that was probably because he seemed to only sleep four hours a night. “How is it in Japan-land?”
“Humid, all the time.” It had significantly gotten worse in the past couple of weeks. No matter how much AC the trains pumped in, it still smelled like an elephant enclosure during rush hour. “Rush hour is rancid.”
He laughed. “You know, I saw a vid of Japanese rush hour with people with white gloves helping to push commuters in the train. Have you had that?”
“Not that exactly. It’s pretty cramped in there. Last week I got pressed against the door. When it opened, I thought I was going to smack into the platform. But luckily some of those attendants were there and caught me.” It was actually pretty embarrassing to have a total stranger catch you as you were squeezed like toothpaste from a crowded train.
Dave was laughing loudly and it made Kathleen feel a little energized again. Dave’s wife, Juliet, overheard and stepped in from the kitchen to chat with Kathleen. It was all small talk and some not-serious news about her parents. Kathleen soaked it in. She didn’t have friends in Japan. Her coworkers only treated her with distant respect and her superiors obviously didn’t want to spend more time with her than required. She used to have so many friends in Champagne, IL. They went out drinking after work or did stuff on the weekends. She’d even had Brandon for a while. But they had broken up long before she was given the promotion.
Kathleen saw Juliet kiss Dave as she went off to work early. She was lonely. But she knew that might happen, suddenly moving to Tokyo without knowing any Japanese. At least work kept her busy most days of the week.
“So,” Dave turned back to her, “anything new at work? Still making sex dolls?”
Kathleen frowned, though she knew he was just joking. “They are not sex dolls.”
He smirked. “Ah, and all the single men who buy them just want to dress them up?”
“Sex dolls are inanimate. Nothing more than large, expensive toys. The Personal Love Companions are much more complex.”
“Ah, so they can talk to you while you’re having sex with them.”
If Dave had been in the same room with her, Kathleen would have smacked him. “It means they can walk and talk and interact with you. You can take them on dates—”
“In public?” He sounded horrified.
“The point is that you can develop a relationship with them. It doesn’t have to be about sex.”
“Yeah, and would you have a relationship with a computer?”
Kathleen had been programming love simulations for years. Even before Mashida took her on, she had been coding holo dating sims. Most of the time she was required to stick to a pretty close script. The dating sims had a distinct personality and quirks. And the user was pretty restricted on how much input they could give the sims. But the PLC project was much more. Not only were they personally coding to match each user individually, but the companions could actually listen to the user. They could figure out responses that weren’t just canned lines. They could react and learn. With the holo dating sims, the user had to input to the sim “I am sad,” then the sim would act accordingly. With PCL, the doll would look at the user and understand that they were sad.
Kathleen thought it was an amazing project, but she also knew she wasn’t the demographic for them. Sure, she might be lonely, but she could never take a relationship with a doll seriously. She would look at the AI, at the mechanics, and be impressed. She knew she would enjoy testing the doll’s limits. She would go on a date with one, if only to witness how many strangers could tell if the doll was real or not. She would talk to it about complex issues, if only to see if the doll could respond appropriately. It made her a good tester for anything preliminarily, but she would be a terrible beta. She just wouldn’t be able to commit to the doll like their customers would.
“It’s not my job to have a relationship with a computer.”
Her wrist beeped and she looked down to find that Medical had scheduled her cortex exam. Her heart sank a little. Maybe it was her job to have a relationship with a computer.
• • •
The cortex scan was the newest innovation for programming AI. In the years before its development, customers were forced to fill out hundreds of pages
of surveys and go through extensive interview processes, to have a doll whose personality and appearance would align with the customer’s. It was all very tedious and never very accurate. What people said in surveys and interviews could be completely contradictory to their lifestyle. For instance, a customer might say they exercised a lot, though in reality they were just being optimistic. Then they got a holo sim who constantly talked about exercising or the customer’s personal regime, and they found their interests didn’t match.
Now, all a customer—or in this case Kathleen—had to do was show up for a cortex scan appointment. The scan was painless and only took fifteen minutes. Then Kathleen had to fill out a small form, mostly personal information like her age and gender, and that was it. The data was sent to Kathleen’s own team, who would synthesize a chip that would be given to Engineering. The chip would contain the perfect personality and appearance for Kathleen’s ideal companion. Then it would take a mere forty-eight hours for the PLC to be made and programmed. Ridiculously fast.
Kathleen was overwhelmed. She paced outside her apartment door, constantly staring down the railing to the parking lot outside the complex. Her PLC was due to arrive tonight and Kathleen really didn’t want her neighbors to see. If she could catch the delivery truck, then she could usher the PCL inside her apartment as fast as possible.
She looked down the rows of apartment doors. She didn’t know her neighbors, but they all worked for Mashida. Would they know she was doing this preliminary beta test? She had found most of the people here tended to keep to themselves. And not everyone who worked for Mashida was familiar or even aware of the PLC project. It was an international corporation with many different departments and products. Maybe they would just think Kathleen was getting a couch or a new table. Maybe.
“Lost again?”
Kathleen turned toward the stairs to see Yuriko Vellucci towing along several bags from the convenience mart. She arched an eyebrow at Kathleen in question.
“Oh!” Kathleen raised her hand, which was holding a half-forgotten beer. “I was just … the apartment is a bit … stuffy?” People drank on the balcony all the time, right? It wasn’t illegal, right? She totally wasn’t waiting for a life-sized personalized semi-sex doll … right?
Yuriko seemed to accept it without much thought. She was wearing slacks this time, and a vest covered another ruffled blouse. Her hair was pulled into a ponytail again, and even though she looked sweaty and tired, not a strand had fallen out of place. It made Kathleen insanely jealous.
Yuriko just shrugged, and made to pass Kathleen.
“You live here?” Kathleen asked.
Yuriko hesitated. “Of course.”
Kathleen struggled to make herself not seem like an idiot. She already knew Yuriko worked for Mashida; living on company housing was hardly unique. “Oh, I mean … on this floor? I haven’t seen you around.”
“My work hours are a bit random.”
She was walking away and Kathleen knew she should probably let her go. The package should arrive any minute and it would be hard, after starting a conversation, to convince someone to leave immediately. But this was not Kathleen’s first beer of the night and she was so strung out on nerves that she couldn’t help but try to reach out to someone. “Do you want a beer?” she blurted out.
Yuriko hesitated, eyes narrowing at Kathleen, as if trying to see if Kathleen had some weird ulterior motive. Then her expression softened. “Sure. I wasn’t really hungry for this instant food anyway. Just let me put this away.”
Kathleen suddenly felt a little giddy. She watched as Yuriko opened her apartment door, only a few down from hers. Then Kathleen rushed into her apartment and grabbed a couple beers. She would need to stock up on more soon. If the past week of work was getting to her, this new week was bound to get even weirder.
She stepped outside to find Yuriko waiting. She was still wearing her black pants, but she had taken off her vest, showing off the rather breezy blouse that both made her look professional and cool in the stifling humidity. Her hair was still pulled back, but she raked her nails across her scalp, as if she itched to take it down.
Yuriko accepted the beer. “Thank you. Rough day?”
Kathleen gave a nervous laugh. “I’m actually a lot more worried about the rest of the week.” And the next five weeks. “You?”
Yuriko leaned on the balcony railing. “Today was not so bad. But last night we received a last minute project.” She tugged at her ponytail. “We were out so late that the trains had stopped running. Had to take a cab back.” She sipped her beer. “Anō, I wonder if I can get corporate to pay for that?”
Kathleen had a feeling she knew exactly what last minute project Yuriko was talking about. “You know, before I accepted this position, I had always heard about the crazy hours business people run here in Japan. I thought it was just an exaggeration. Now I think I should have been grateful for the 9 to 5 that I had in America.”
Yuriko’s lips quirked. It wasn’t quite a real smile, but it was the closest that Kathleen had seen in their brief interactions. “I had a job in America for a while, in Milwaukee. But I wasn’t satisfied there. In terms of Engineering AI, Mashida is a world leader.” She shrugged. “Even if their projects tend to be dating sims. But I suppose that is the largest market.” She sipped her beer, staring out to the opposing apartment building across the parking lot. “Why did you come to Tokyo, Kathleen?” She actually looked a little interested.
Kathleen toyed with her now empty can. She kind of wanted to open the spare, but she also didn’t want to look like an alcoholic. “I actually worked for a U.S. branch of Mashida. It was a good job, but when they offered me the promotion … I guess I wanted a change of pace.”
Yuriko was staring at her now, drinking thoughtfully. “Let me guess, you broke up with someone?”
Kathleen decided that it was definitely okay for her to open the other beer. “Ah, well, yes. Sort of. Probably.” She attempted not to chug it down. “How did you guess?”
Yuriko gave her a soft smile, not condescending in the least. “Not many westerners come to work in Japan. The culture here is just so different.”
“You’re telling me.”
“So either the foreigner has some invested interest in Japan, like they’re married to a Japanese person, or maybe they’re an otaku or something. If not that then, well, usually they are running away from some personal problem.” She paused. “And, if you don’t mind me saying, you don’t seem like the type to have more serious baggage than a heartbreak.”
“It wasn’t really a heartbreak. We just had been going out for a while. And then he realized one day that he didn’t want to go out with me. So we broke up.”
Brandon was one of those guys where it all seemed just a little too easy. They met through mutual friends, started talking, and then they were hanging out alone. They never truly argued, not about anything important, and they dated for three years. It was the type of relationship where everyone just assumed that wherever one went, the other would follow. When Brandon asked to break up, Kathleen wondered if he had found someone else. She almost wished he had. She felt like it would have made her feel better, to lose to another girl, than to just … lose.
It was thoughts like these that made Kathleen think moving across the world was a good idea.
Kathleen knew Yuriko was still looking at her. “Okay, maybe it hurt a little. But I was in a rut. For a lot of unimportant reasons. Thought it would be a good change.”
“And is it?”
“I’ll get back to you when this hellish humidity dies down.”
Yuriko choked back a laugh. Kathleen felt immensely proud of it. “Well, I’ll give you one word of advice. Don’t date Japanese men. There is a reason Mashida makes billions selling fake girlfriends here.”
“I’m guessing you’d never try out a love sim or even the PLC for yourself?”
Yuriko grimaced. “I have to synthesize them for a living. I have to test skin textures and hair f
ibers and I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen them, halfway through production, with all their inner wiring spilling out and metal skeletons exposed.” She shook her head. “No, I think if I saw one in real life, it would only disturb me.”
“Well, when the PLC is released, you might not have a choice.”
Yuriko raised an eyebrow. “One of those dolls costs as much as a luxury car. Even in a city this big, I think I can avoid it.”
Kathleen laughed, hoping she didn’t sound so nervous. “Well you never know when one might crop up … ”
Yuriko shrugged and finished her beer. “I guess we’ll see then.” She turned, probably to head back into her apartment. But then she stopped, looking over her shoulder to Kathleen. “Hey, thanks for the beer. And I hope this change of pace works out for you.”
For a moment, Kathleen thought Yuriko was referring to the imminent arrival of her own PLC. But then she remembered her own words from early. “Ah, thanks.”
Yuriko smirked. “Ja ne.” Then she went into her apartment.
Kathleen looked over the balcony and saw a Mashida van pulling up to the parking lot.
chapter FIVE
Yuriko closed her apartment door behind her, leaning against it momentarily. Her apartment was just as she left it: a huge mess. Various tool kits were strewn across her floor. Part of a reject PLC leg was on her table, where she had been tinkering with it for a week. One corner of her living room was filled with random parts. Some even with skin or hair flaking off. A box of PLC eyeballs was on her kitchen counter, minuscule, delicate parts spread across the white surface. Her bag of konbini dinner was on the floor. Her mother constantly complained that Yuriko should learn to cook for herself. The problem wasn’t that Yuriko didn’t know how to cook, it was that she lacked the space to cook.