I don't really care if I'm alive or not.

Do I?

I put my laptop aside and the wind blows against me, against the rooftop, against the indigo-and-fuchsia neon lights looped through the city.

My feet hang a thousand feet above Tokyo.

Do I?

My fingers, painted a metallic turquoise, brush the laptop's trackpad, highlighting music loops. The opening bars of 'Fake Doll' play on repeat.

I don't know. Mainly because I don't know if I'm even alive at all.

I wonder if any of the others ever feel this way.

I flop onto the dirty rooftop, and my twin tails pool in luxurious twists of blue-green all around me. I watch airplanes fly overhead, and I wish that they were shooting stars.

It's lonely out here.

We're global icons and adored by millions, but… kuso. It's so lonely sometimes.

I gaze at my hand. I'm as close to a human being as a piece of software can get. My hands are crafted with silicon and wires, a titanium frame packaged as a high school girl with a pretty voice. A pretty voice that can hit every note and get a perfect score at karaoke; that can sing faster than any human, and that can sing in a dozen individual ranges. I'm a pair of wide open eyes; I'm a silvery uniform with aqua hair in twin tails.

We weren't always this way. We started out as software, represented by mascots drawn by a Japanese artist. We became pop culture icons and spearheaded a music movement of millions of fans, and we sang in disjointed performances comprised of digitised pre-recorded tracks and mute holograms.

Then we became as human as we ever would be, as technology finally advanced enough for the world to tick another item off its never-ending bucket list. Androids. Androids were made and manufactured for commercial use, yet only for the insanely wealthy. And the vocaloids came to life, preloaded with all the songs, all the choreography, all the music videos, all the fanart — all of the history that each of us had accumulated over the course of our careers.

And the government — claiming that no virtual idol could ever take over the world — deigned to give us artificial intelligence and free will.

It's not as though my infamous twin tails have rocket launchers in them. Confetti cannons, maybe, but not rocket launchers.

And here we are. Just a collection of lonely pop stars, with hairdos in every colour of the rainbow.

I roll over; drag my laptop towards me; slap myself across the face, and begin tapping away on the keys. That's enough of that. You're Hatsune Miku. You're the embodiment of friendship and positivity, so be happy! I create beats and rhythms within the software that shares the same name as myself, forgetting everything in the music. At least, I tell myself that I'm forgetting.

A ping, and a message pops up, backed by half of a melancholy remix of 'Little Scarlet Bad Girl.'

'Mikuuu!'

I pause the music, and push the screen back lightly as Kagamine Rin and Len flash into view. The room is dark: a tangle of drawn curtains chinked with Tokyo and trailing cables and far too many yellow outfits scattered in disarray over the furniture.

I smile. 'Rin! Len!'

Len manages to push Rin away for a moment and he grabs the phone. 'Sorry about that.' He fends Rin off with a hand to the face, and she paddles her arms helplessly, trying to get the phone back from him. 'We were actually calling because — '

'We can't decide how we want to remix 'I My MeaN,' so you've got do do it for us or blood is going to be spilled!'

Her dramatic words are completely spoilt by a cute wink and a poked-out tongue.

'But we can't even… what?!' Len protests.

'Fine, I'll get some ketchup and make it really convincing!' She promptly drops onto the couch and stretches out a trembling hand. 'Live on… for us… Miku…' And her face hits the cushion.

I sit up and give them a wary grin, already opening the files for 'I My MeaN.'

'So you were clashing over the remix?'

Len sighs, and smiles, one eye still on his sister sprawled over the couch. 'Yeah. She wanted to see if we could do a TeddyLoid collaboration — '

I pop a piece of candy into my mouth. It's amazing really, the functions they give androids now. Apparently we need to be able to taste any edible gifts our fans give us. I'm certainly not arguing, that's for sure. 'Mm… You're dreaming. TeddyLoid costs the earth for a collab these days.'

'Because you did "Decoration" with him and put him in demand,' Rin complains.

I pop another piece of candy in and melt the sugar away with my tongue. 'Yeah. You got that bit right.'

'And I wanted to rerecord my lines in a deeper range,' Len says, 'but — '

'But then it wouldn't be a remix; it would be a rerecording!'

Len bangs his head on the phone's screen. 'Crypton Future Media grant us patience. Why did we have to record that song with our original ranges…'

'Pfft.' I laugh, and rearrange the loops for the track and add new synths and beats. 'Life problems, much? Okay, I'm sending the files for the new version over. Give it a try.'

'Oh yeah!' Rin says. 'Everybody say yeah yeah, yeah yeah — '

'Don't,' Len warns. 'Or I will smack you in the face with one of those plush leek freebies from that last concert.'

'…Better than being smacked with a real leek, I guess…'

'What?! Leek plushies? Why don't I have one of those?!' I protest.

'Complain to Crypton.'

'Hey! Fine, just play your remix already, fluffy-head,' I order.

Rin hits the play button before he can retort, and a snappy tune with a changed-up beat and glitchier, sparklier synths echoes back to me.

'YEAH!' Rin screams. 'The one and only Hatsune Miku, and she probably did it on the back of a serviette, ladies and gentlemen — is there no end to her genius — '

Len jams a headset on her curly blonde mop and hooks himself up with one as well. 'We actually have to sing it, you know! Stop fangirling!'

'You stop — '

I laugh and look up, at the light pollution-stained sky, at the faint airplane trails cutting through the clouds, listening to the two of them bouncing through the song.

'Mm,' I murmur. I listen to Len's voice and take note of the changes. 'His new range is really good. What is that… not "Mature," it's…'

'"Smoky?"'

I yelp and spin around to see Megurine Luka standing in the elevator with her arms draped over the railings. She smiles and walks out, the doors closing with a hiss behind her. 'Why so surprised, Miku?'

'Because you're on the roof of my penthouse apartment?!'

'Ah. That.' She gracefully takes a seat beside me and watches the faintest of stars blink into existence with half-lidded eyes, like a drowsy cat. She has glitter in her hair and high heels on her feet. 'Meiko and Kaito say hi.'

I pull out my phone and pop off a quick LINE message to the both of them.

Hey guys WHY IS LUKA here what happened how did she get into my SPACE?!

'Because you gave me your keys when you first moved in? Because you were terrified you'd do something klutzy like locking yourself out? And I was in the area and figured I'd swing by.'

'…Ah. Yeah.'

Meiko pings me and Kaito in a group chat. We just finished with a concert earlier. The three of us were there and then we went our separate ways. Hey Luka.

Luka reads over my shoulder. 'By separate ways, she means that she dragged Kaito off to an izakaya, so don't let her fool you.'

I message back. Enjoy the izakaya.

LUKA you spinoff character you're DEAD.

H-hey, Kaito messages. Calm down, girls…

She insulted my honour!

Luka yawns. 'She insulted my intelligence. And if I'm a spinoff then she's like a poorly-executed reboot of a franchise.'

'…I'm not sending that — '

But they're already signing off with a BYE SPINOFF, and a Goodnight, Miku, Luka, and they're gone.

'So… "Smoky?"' I ask.

Rin pops into the camera frame and I realise that their impromptu performance has just ended. 'Bro — Miku said you're smokin'! Whooo!'

'I did not!'

'She did not!'

'Luka did!'

'Yeah, Luka did!'

'…Actually, I did not,' Luka corrects.

I pull out of the argument and tip my head up to the stars. I sigh. 'I wonder if we amount to anything more than our voices sometimes.'

'What?' Len takes off his headset, and runs a hand through his hair. 'Well, I mean… we are our voices. And everyone loves us for it.'

'Yeah bro, your twenty million fangirls love you for your smokin' voice. Way to own it.'

'Would you stop, pipsqueak?'

Luke watches me, giving me a side-glance. 'Are you trying to amount to more than the sum of your parts?'

I shrug, then rest my elbows on my knees. 'Mm… I don't know. I just know that we're not truly human. Humans have something that we don't, yet they long to be able to craft that perfect note. They're technically alive. Yet we can craft that perfect note, so shouldn't we be able to… I don't know… strive for something more than that?'

Luka tips her head, and thinks for a moment. 'I know what you mean. But even when people don't know that we have AI and freewill — when they're listening to our music, so many of them are hard-pressed to believe that we're merely algorithms.'

I stare at her.

'Yeah…' Len fingers the mic of his headset, then folds it up and puts the headset away. 'Just because you're human doesn't mean that that makes you human, Miku. Humans have some stuff going that we don't, I get it. But that doesn't make us any less real, and it doesn't mean that humans are automatically better. If anything, some of them are complete pieces of _.'

'At the end of the day,' Rin says, 'humans and Vocaloids alike are making music about what they believe in. About emotion. And if we can eat and talk and sing and dream and argue with each other, then we're definitely alive. If anything, we can sing about emotion and personal experiences in the exact same way that humans can, yet we can also get a perfect score in karaoke, guaranteed. Not to be elitist, but we are totally on the same playing field.'

I laugh, giggling until I think I'm going to break a rib. 'You're right. Thanks, guys. I just think about some of this stuff sometimes. Sorry.' I stretch my arms, and the city lights glitter on my polished nails. 'Man. It's just one bad end night, isn't it?'

All three of them groan in excruciating pain.

'Miku,' Rin says. 'I know that's one of your most popular music videos of all time, but please, no.'

'That's more tired than an Osaka accent,' Luka says.

Len half smiles, half grimaces. '…I… sorry, I can't…'

'Whaaa?! That's mean, guys!' I throw my hands up. 'What, would it be more acceptable if I tell your world — '

'NO IT WOULD NOT.'

'Fine, fine, I've got selfish style, I admit it — '

'Do we really need to rule out every composer you've ever had?!'

`Someone turn her off before she gets started on the fanmade tracks!'

I laugh until I think my voice box is going to glitch, wiping synthesised tears from my eyes while trying to fend off Luka's teasing.

'Well,' Luka says, getting up and dusting herself off, 'I'm going to make like a desktop Cinderella and leave, because it seems that midnight is nearly upon us.'

Rin cracks herself laughing. 'Why is it funny when you do it and not me?!' I wail.

Luka smiles airily and slips through the elevator doors. 'Still, Miku.' I look up at her. She's lost in thought, one hand stopping the doors from closing, with her eyes fixed on a point on the skyline. 'Vocaloids have become a global icon. We've started movements. We've created music loved by people the world over. We've become a symbol of progress, and unity, and friendship — people aspire to traits that we embody that aren't even inherent to us; they're meant to be inherent to them. Isn't that somewhat amazing, when you think about it?'

'Yeah...' I watch the airplanes with a soft smile, no longer wishing that they were shooting stars. 'I'd be an aimai liar if I said I wasn't.'

'Mikuuu!'

I give them my best 'oopsies' expression. 'Couldn't help it!'

At the end of the day, we're just a collection of lonely pop stars, with hairdos in every colour of the rainbow. Yet despite there only being a handful of us, we still have each other.

This rainbow isn't so lonely after all.

The End

A/N: Reviews welcome, and thanks for reading!