October 4th - afternoon
It's a warm autumn day in Atsugi. The sunshine casts a dusty yellow haze on the city and I almost fall asleep on the ride home.
The rent payment has already come out, so Kim and I have to live conservatively for awhile. The refrigerator's low on apple tea, and there's too little yen in the jar on the counter to go out for snacks. Even so, I love being home before Kim. Today I could either take a nap, or spend some more time watching the music channels learning new songs for karaoke. That is, if I had the bravery to get up there and sing karaoke. I like to pass by the bars once in awhile. Most of the singers suck. But if I poke my head in when a lady is onstage, she looks like she's having the time of her life. I'd love to get to the point where I can enjoy myself like that.
The little white dog Niji barks happily at the front gate and I kneel to pet him after I make my way from the bus stop. It's a wonderful feeling when someone is glad to see you come home, even if it is a dog. Niji's eyes almost seem deep and expressive. It's been a long time since I'd seen such pure, unrestricted joy and elation on someone's face, even if he is only looking for someone to play with.
Today has also been a decent day.
The hallway smells of cleaning solution, the floor freshly mopped and shining. I'm thinking I might actually do some cleaning myself once I get inside, and hang something cute on the door. Only right now, I can't actually see the door. Something is concealing it in its own large shadow. I notice what looks like a large refrigerator box standing in the corner. Sighing, I really don't want to push it aside to be able to unlock the apartment.
There are two men crouching behind the box, leaning back against its side. They stand upon noticing me, wearing sunglasses indoors and drinking from cans of oolong tea. They are wearing black dress pants and matching jackets, their hair slicked back. Very classy and overdressed for people who are waiting to deliver this refrigerator.
The first guy has large buck teeth. He clears his throat and tugs a little on his tie.
"Ano… Niigaki-san desu ka?" he asks in a youthful voice. 'Are you Niigaki?'
"Hai," I answer. And I didn't order a refrigerator, especially not one expensive enough to come in a box painted in a blue-and-chrome futuristic theme. Just the box itself can blind someone when the light hits it from an angle, and I hope for the customer's sake that it can brew iced apple tea on its own.
The second man holds out a clipboard, smiling at me awkwardly. He has a mustache that he must have tried for months to grow, just bits of sparse stubble on his upper lip.
"Sign," he says in a choppy burst, finally picking up that I'm more gaijin than Japanese.
"Demo… sore wa watashi no ja nai." I guess. 'But, that's not mine,' I hope I said.
The first man waves his hands in an 'X' formation and shakes his head. Not his responsibility. Got it. Well, with any luck, hopefully I can call the landlord and ask him whatever the hell this form says. For now, I'm sure he just wants a signature to show the fridge was delivered.
Getting the damn thing out of the hallway is a laborious task. I nearly break sweat sliding the box a little to the right just to unlock the door, then I have to move the trash can to hold the door open. The only space I could possibly fit this box is up against the couch, and after that, I no longer want anything to do with it.
My elbow knocks against the box as I approach the kitchen, and the box falls to the floor with a thud. I wince and slap my forehead, but the bang wasn't loud enough to really disturb anyone. What kind of fridge is this? The box is made of the softest cardboard around, and it's been dented around the top just from tipping over.
Great, so now I just damaged this expensive refrigerator, and I'm going to have to surrender my paychecks for the next five years to cover it. Might as well see what exactly is wrong with it.
I glide the blades of my scissors through a mess of heavy-duty tape and glue, and blow an extra fifteen minutes prying through thick staples. The box finally gives way, and I sink wrists-deep into folds of crinkling plastic. Into a mass of something soft with a creamy yellowish tinge.
OH. MY. GOD.
My cell phone goes crazy vibrating in my pocket when I jump back at the sight of the outline of a human male. The softness was skin. Shining black locks fall flat against the plastic covering and frame his unconscious face. It looks as though he was young and sprawled out comfortably on his bed, unknowing that he would be wrapped in plastic and shipped somewhere.
"Hello? Hello? Is this Cheryl Niigaki?" the male caller sounds happy. And knows English.
"Yes, but you've called at a very bad time. You see I'm in the middle of a huge problem--!" I choke, a lump forming in my throat and my eyes stinging with fresh hot tears.
I cannot believe what I am seeing. Part of me still hopes that this is some cruel, twisted joke, but that would be way too naïve of me. There's no way this isn't what I think it is.
Why me? Why ruin my life? I have my doubts that there's a shady cult member or human trafficking warlord or whatever the hell else, here in Atsugi, Japan, that goes by Cheryl Niigaki.
I am going to be fifteen thousand levels of massively screwed, with all the trouble I'm about to get into for having a limp, lifeless man delivered to my house. In plastic. In a refrigerator box.
Naked.
"That's too bad," says the overzealous guy. "But before you take care of that, I was hoping I could at least inquire as to your package from Kronos Heaven that was supposed to arrive today."
"K-Kronos Heaven?" I repeat stupidly, trying hard not to stare at the cold face of the corpse in my living room. At least his eyes are closed.
"That's right. You ordered your custom-made ideal lover from our newest Divinity series, free three-day trial! I'm Masanori Kanegawa from Kronos Heaven, just wanting to call and ask if your delivery made it there safely!"
My hands shake, and have turned pale white. This "purchase" can't have been much older than me, and here he was -- the victim of some evil corporation, just like you see in the movies. And he was terribly handsome, from what I can tell. I immediately want to throw myself on him in an apologetic hug and return him to his mother for a proper, respectful burial. Maybe if it wasn't an actual corpse.
"Are you still enjoying your silver hair, by the way?"
"What the FUCK do you think you're doing sending me this?!" I scream into my mobile phone, nervously yanking at my hair. "I did NOT order this! You've got to take this monstrosity back! In fact, before you do, I'm going to call the cops! Right fucking now!"
Masanori Kanegawa sighs. "I should have known this was going to happen. Miss Niigaki, please calm down. Packed into that box next to his leg is a manual. Divinity Model 04 is a lover figure. You'll have to boot him up and maintain him just like any other household appliance."
"You have got to be kidding me," I wail, tears rolling down my cheeks as I stare hopelessly at the afternoon sun pouring through the blinds like stripes of lava. "I didn't order this. Please take it back. There has to be a mistake."
"I'm afraid that since it's already after four p.m., I can't have it picked up, Miss Niigaki. If this is what you really want, you can hold him there until tomorrow. I'll come by and remove him personally. In the meantime, however, I do strongly suggest that you at least get to know more about your free trial product, and perhaps even enjoy him!"
"But--!"
"Kronos Heaven offices have to close now, Miss Niigaki. See you tomorrow!"
And Masanori Kanegawa, this high-pitched fruitcake son of a bitch, hangs up on me.
Immediately I fall to my knees and bend over the open box, violently shredding the plastic covering over his face. Maybe there's still a chance I can save him, get him to breathe. After all, he still has color. Gently, and then more forcefully, I slap his cheeks, desperate for a response. His face and neck are still warm, and I watch to see if his chest moves up and down. He's not breathing.
It's as if suddenly I'm living in a crappy horror novel. Like a retard, I ask for the perfect boyfriend and expect him to be delivered to me, which he does… dead.
Really, it's sad. This boy has high cheekbones and a smooth face that feels freshly-shaven. His nose has a thin bridge, it's a little small, and his closed mouth is full and relaxed in the most naturally refreshing pure rose-pink. Almost. His eyebrows are manly, thick but neatly groomed, shapely. Even his hair shows signs of life, deep and shining midnight black with flashes of blue or purple depending on the light and the angle. He looks like someone I would have enjoyed admiring from afar.
He is positioned on his side, curled up in a position that I sometimes like to nap on the couch. His muscles are extremely defined, especially in the buttocks and legs. Whoever put him in this box strategically placed him in such a way that his junk stays hidden where it belongs.
Maybe he was an arrogant, spoiled fashion model who had it coming.
I peel back more of the plastic, and wedged into the bend of his leg is a thick, glossy blue book, thicker than any dictionary, and much heavier. Divinity Series Lover Figure - Consumer Manual - English Edition. The first section is nearly a fifth of the whole book, describing a warranty policy, safety cautions and hazards, legal procedures, the whole nine yards. They really are trying to convince me that this is a household appliance -- even that, a sex doll. The page numbers are printed with tiny little red and pink hearts. And condoms.
Initial startup process and owner recognition. Your figure's lips were created with a sensor that detects your own personal body heat. Simply give him a hot, passionate and meaningful kiss and let the fun times begin!
Um, excuse me?
A little note beneath the paragraph says that using tongue would be a safe and sassy option. Gross.
My heart races and my palms begin to sweat. There were already fifty million things wrong with this picture before I even got this far. Would there be any difference how much trouble I get into whether I do this or not? Doubtful. I should have called the police several minutes ago.
And since probably nothing will happen, I suppose that if I really wanted to, I could kiss it. And then I'd expose Kronos Heaven for the type of company it really is.
But what if I end up looking like that woman who sued McDonald's after spilling hot coffee on herself?
However… the sooner I try to interact with it, the sooner, and more easily, I can get this thing out of my apartment.
Awkwardly I get onto all fours and examine the gorgeous dormant face. I realize how easily I've been swayed. How exactly do I know, and how easily can I truly believe, that he was not once a living person? Is it simply for the fact that he is warm and has skin color?
I touch a fingertip to his bottom lip gingerly, then pull back in fright. Feels realistic, and yet so different. I stare at my finger, perplexed at its sudden warmth. The kind of warmth that can only come from a machine. And he smells like plastic. An expensive high-tech mannequin?
I draw in a deep breath and close my finger and thumb around his nose. Lest anyone should walk in. I'll say I'm giving mouth-to-mouth, to a plastic training dummy. Even though I never found out a thing about medical training in Japan. I go to the military base for my medical needs.
In a torrent of guilt and disbelief, I focus my eyes on the floor, searching for a spot to clean. I don't even want to see what I'm doing. At the last moment I squeeze my eyes shut with all my might, pressing my closed mouth onto his, my nerves on fire upon the soft glide of our lips making contact. Unbearable heat rises to my face, and I sit upright in shame.
Suddenly it begins with the shrug of his shoulders, smooth skin pulled taut over finely-shaped bone structure. He has a collarbone that -- well, the first word that comes to mind when I see it is "tasty". The cardboard box begins to creak as his upper body rises like in a vampire movie. His long, toned arms stretch out to the sides and I jump back, observing him tilt his head from side to side, stretching out his neck. I can hear a slight wheeze in his very first few breaths, in and out through his nose.
He sleepily blinks his eyes open for the very first time. In the most eerie way, I see from the shape of his delicate half-moon eyes that he is Korean, just like I had written in my custom request. Those eyes dart to the side and catch me. His mouth curls into a humble smile and he stares directly into my face instead of sweeping up and down like a lot of men do. And he blinks.
"Hajimemashite… kanojo." Nice to meet you… girlfriend.