Chen didn’t like counting the days. He didn’t like counting the seven hundred and fifty days that he’d been working in the loud and cramped karaoke building. He definitely didn’t like fixing the machines that had no chance of ever being fully repaired, and in no way did he enjoy hearing the tone deaf singers mutilate the microphones with the screeching that they called talent.

The unit sighed, deep down he knew that the design and model he was made after alone held more talent than they did in their whole being, however his physical unit wasn’t nearly as impressive. He was a ‘Songbird’, first and last of his model and make, he’d seen his design, and it was magnificent, genius, flawless- in theory. Apparently the hard copy wasn’t nearly as capable of working. He remembered a week, a blissful week of working perfectly, perfect pitch, beautiful harmonies, even just talking; now he just sounded like a distorted scream.

Chen was pulled out of his thoughts when his manager came in asking whether or not he’d finished with the machine, apparently he needed it urgently for a booked out room. ‘Stupid, shouldn’t be booking out rooms for machines you don’t have’ he thought to himself, chirping a response at him while he wheeled the machine back into its rightful room.

As expected there was a room of annoyed teenagers wanting to begin their session. “About time” one of them scoffed as Chen started to hook up the machine. “We’ve already been waiting ages, you can’t go any faster?” another sneered. He finished putting the machine in and switched it on, blowing lightly into the microphones to test them before handing them off. “Thanks for nothing” they called after the unit as he left.

Chen made his way toward his room, if you could call it that. It was a run-down karaoke room that held a beaten up couch and an old television that picked up two channels, the news channel, and the channel with terrible daytime shows with the infomercials in between. Chen was greeted by a melodramatic scene from one of the many soap operas as he the tv, he rolled his eyes and changed the channel to the news; he wished he hadn’t.

Chen never forgot the first face he saw when he was booted up, and that face was staring at him on the news, Kim Jun Myeon, although that’s not what they called him on tv, on the news he was ‘Suho’. He was on the news often enough, debuting his newest model or creation, it was like a constant reminder that he had failed, that he wasn’t good enough. Jun Myeon was the closest thing he had to a parent, a creator. While he would never show it, even to himself, it hurt to see other models and other units be presented so proudly, yet here he was cooped up in closet with a couch, kept away from the world and hidden to protect the good name of the company and the designer.

He turned off the television and curled up on the couch, sighing into his sleeve. ‘Maybe one day someone will find an honest use for me’ he thought to himself. Slowly he felt himself shutting off temporarily to recharge his system, he liked to pretend it was sleeping even though he knew it wasn’t. Chen slowly ‘fell asleep’ to the memories of the songs he could once sing.

-

Tao wasn’t a forgetful person by nature, however the amount of twisting rooms and winding halls in such a seemingly small karaoke bar was enough to make anyone question their memory and navigational skills. He wove through yet another unfamiliar looking hall, all of the doors had music and singing coming from the other side, but none sounded like any of his friends. He groaned and walked to the end of the hall where there was one last room. There was no music coming from it‘maybe this is it’ he told himself ‘maybe they were nice enough to wait for me’ Tao opened the door.

The room was pitch black, he couldn’t see a thing. It was obviously empty ‘probably full of junk and broken equipment’ he thought to himself, going to close the door and continue his search but a noise made him stop.

Chen’s insides began whirring, something had triggered his motion sensors to start waking him up. ‘Probably the manager’ he thought groggily as his system booted up. He stretched and sat up, looking over to the light that was flooding into his room, in front of him was not the manager however. Chen let out a startled yelp.

Tao covered his ears, the noise that came from whatever was moving was distorted and pitchy, when the short assault on his ears ended he took a look back at the direction of the noise, a surprised expression coming over him when he discovered it was in fact a person. A startled, yelping, digital person.