The chair twists with my hair, large ringlets cascading over my right shoulder. The glam team whispers amongst themselves, like I was one of the few props angled against the otherwise barren white walls.

It’s the same scene every morning, conditioned air buzzing with anxiety.

I often wish I weren’t awake for this part, but powering on seconds before the lights dim is far worse. It causes disorientation and weird lagging, which leads to pauses and explanations of minor technical difficulties.

Replacements are pricey, so they don’t fix what isn’t entirely broken.

I stand against a neon backdrop while they rearrange my body parts to fit the desired aesthetic. For the next presentation, we move to a fluffy bed, where I pretend to sip a healthy fizzy drink. It moves to the edge when I stretch, type, and meditate, yet remains prominently visible, locking focus.

In the beginning, I received scripts. Thin pages with numbered lists. We come pre-programmed, but every personality is molded to be unique, commanding a recommended training period. Now, we just go through a million motions.

Some days, I find myself walking alone on sidewalks, holding an empty coffee cup. Then, with someone I scarcely recognize at events, who carries my hand affectionately, when the cameras flash like a summer storm. On Friday nights, I’m on various dark couches, answering questions with necessary enthusiasm.

There’s also oblivion. A void where absolutely nothing is demanded of me.

Stretches of stillness exist in the studio, where we record songs prompted by market research. Only snippets of my voice are registered, in a few variations, as fodder for testing. The rest is automatically, artificially generated.

Infinite patterns coming together to guarantee grocery store virality.

Finally, when the platform rises, I scan the crowd. I wonder how many know. Based on their faces, most appear to have opted for forged comforts. Even if the data wasn’t restricted, protocol dictates that I don’t deviate from my role.

A countdown concludes in my ears. And I start performing.