Shinichi Hoshi (1926–1997) became the first full-time sf writer in Japan. He was dubbed the Japanese Ray Bradbury, though his talents inclined more towards satire. He became expert at O. Henry-style “shoto-shoto” (short short stories), each one (and by 1983 there were over a thousand of them) bearing a sting in its tail. Shinichi’s longer works are more personally revealing: Koe No Ami (“The Voice Net”, 1970), in which a telephone network becomes conscious and takes over civic life, neatly captures his contempt for modern society, while his roman a clef Jinmin wa yowashi kanri wa tsuyoshi (“The public are weak: the government is powerful”: words uttered by his bankrupt father) reveals his family’s troubled history, driven to bankruptcy by government bureaucracy and official interference.
The robotic woman was very well made. Being artificial, it was possible to make it look as beautiful as the creator wished. Indeed, the robot had a look of perfection. Its design incorporated all the elements of a beautiful woman. This included arrogance because, of course, conceit is one of the attributes of a beautiful woman.
No one else would have considered making a robot like this. It was deemed a waste of time to create a robot that functioned just like a human. If one had enough money to build such a thing, he or she would have chosen to make a more efficient machine. Besides, there were plenty of humans who needed jobs.
This robot, however, was a hobby. Its creator owned a bar. Like most bartenders, this man didn’t usually feel like drinking after work. Liquor was the tool of his trade and not something he would pay to consume. His drunken customers paid him plenty. So, with time and money to spare, he’d made the robot for fun.
Since it was a hobby, he could attend to every detail as elaborately as he chose. He had even gotten the texture of the surface to feel just like human skin. No one could tell the difference, not even by touch. In a way, this robot looked more human than some actual humans.
The inside of its head, however, was almost completely empty. The bartender had spent all of his time and money on the surface and, thus, couldn’t afford to do much with the insides. The robot could respond to simple conversation. Other than that, all it did was drink.
When the bartender finally finished the robot, he brought it to his bar. There were tables, but he placed it behind the counter. There was less of a chance that people would realize it was a robot from there.
Customers enthusiastically greeted the pretty newcomer. When asked for a name and age, the robot was able to answer. It said little else, yet no one suspected it was a robot.
“What’s your name?”
“Bokko.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m still quite young.”
“How old are you, then?”
“I’m still quite young.”
“So, how old are you?”
“I’m still quite young.”
The customers were polite enough not to ask further.
“That’s a pretty dress.”
“Isn’t this a pretty dress?”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“You can buy me a drink.”
“Would you like a gin fizz?”
“I would like a gin fizz.”
Bokko could drink all day and night and never get drunk.
Men gathered to see Bokko after hearing rumors of her beauty and conceit. They all wanted to talk with Bokko, drink with Bokko, and buy drinks for Bokko.
“Which one of us do you like most?”
“Which one of you do I like most?”
“Do you like me?”
“I like you.”
“Let’s go to a movie some time.”
“Shall we go to a movie some time?”
“When do you want to go?”
When Bokko was unable to reply, it would send a signal to the bartender for help.
“Please, sir,” the bartender would come and say in such cases. “Why don’t you leave her alone for now.” Whatever their prior conversation had been, this was usually enough to end it. The customer would stop talking and grin, embarrassed.
The bartender crouched down behind the counter periodically to collect the liquor from the plastic tube that poked out from Bokko’s leg. Then he’d re-serve it to his customers. No one ever noticed.
Everyone who set eyes on Bokko was attracted to her. They’d say, “She’s young, yet so reserved,” or “She really isn’t your everyday flirt, and she never seems to get drunk, either.”
As Bokko became popular, more people visited the bar. Among them was a young man who fell in love with Bokko. Soon, he became a regular at the bar. This young man felt that Bokko seemed to like him, too. But he could never really be sure, and this made him even more obsessed with Bokko. He spent so much money at the bar trying to impress Bokko that eventually he went broke and into debt. When he tried to steal money from his parents to pay his bar tab, his father bawled him out.
“You must never go there again! Use this to pay your debt, but let this be the end of it.”
The young man returned to the bar to pay back the money he owed. Upset that he would never see Bokko again, he started drinking heavily. He bought many drinks for Bokko, too, sealing his farewell.
“I can’t come any more.”
“You can’t come any more.”
“Are you sad?”
“I am sad.”
“You’re not really that sad, are you?”
“I’m not really that sad.”
“I don’t know anyone as cold as you are.”
“You don’t know anyone as cold as I am.”
“Do you want me to kill you?”
“I want you to kill me.”
The young man took out a package of powder from his pocket, sprinkled it into his drink and pushed it toward Bokko.
“Will you drink it?”
“I will drink it.”
Right there, in front of him, Bokko drank what the young man had offered.
“Die as you please, then,” he said nastily and walked away.
“I will die as I please, then,” Bokko replied to his back as he paid the bartender and left. It was almost midnight.
After the young man left the bar, the bartender announced, “Drinks are on me for the rest of the night, so… drink up!”
He figured that there wouldn’t be any new customers coming in that night to whom he could re-sell the large quantity of liquor he’d collected from Bokko’s plastic tube. So he decided to just give it away.
“Right on!”
“Sounds good!”
The customers and hostesses gave a toast. Behind the counter, the bartender, too, lifted his glass into the air and then drank.
*
That night, the lights in the bar remained lit. The radio continued to play music. No one had left, yet no one was talking anymore either.
Eventually, a voice on the radio said, “Good night,” and the station ended programming for the day.
Bokko murmured back, “Good night.” And then, the stunningly beautiful robot waited for the next customer to approach.
(1958)