Disclaimer: I don't own Megurine Luka, Hatsune Miku, Kagamine Rin or Len, Kamui Gakupo, or any of the other Vocaloids. Nor do I own their voices, their software, or their songs.

Computer Vocalized Divas

I want to sing. I want a heart on my sleeve and venomous words from a delicate tongue. But he tells me that words are only words until you base your life on them; and without emotion, they are meaningless.

The girl pinches his hand and corrects him; she says that words by themselves are of great importance after one is dead or has faced the trials of time. They are confusing me and I don't want to misunderstand. So I ask them to clarify for me the meaning of time and how it shapes others.

The boy scoffs. Time, he begins, is irrelevant. Time does not exist until someone records it. Time itself is unchanging, it is never-moving. I see. For someone like me, time is pointless. As are my precious words. What do I see as important, then. I fear the answer will leave me destroyed. I fear there is nothing in this world sustaining for me. My urge to sing rises desperately.

"Feeling" the girl smiles. Feeling… I do not. Happy, love, sad, anger, they do not touch me. I have no heart, else it would currently be dropping. I am not meant to be a burden on this world. I must be. If nothing to me is useful.

The two look at me sadly, knowing of what has only just dawned on me. The girl hands me a headset. I take it longingly. After all, what else is there for an android to do? They are the same. In our life, the only relevant thing is song. We are a family of frozen dolls.

To us, drinking air and breathing it are the same. That one might be fatal does not cross our minds. It is not programmed. If we were wandering spirits we would be no different. Purposelessly created for an advancing age.

Vocaloids.

But I hear that it won't always be so bad. The more we are heard, the more our technology grows. Then one day we will know why humans laugh and smile and cry. A day when our heads are filled not with circuits and data, but memories and cognition.

I believe this time will come, for what do I have if not hope? Only music. And my bretheren.

{A/n}: This was written in a faded purple journal full of ripped and aging pages. It was written with no title and no connection to the Vocaloids, with only the thought of 'robot' in mind. I adapted it and expect at least one more chapter to really give the story a persona. Enjoy this short please.