“Good morning! It’s Akane Yomokura.”
“Good morning!”
Greetings echoed through the studio. Seiyuu greetings were always ‘Good morning,’ whether it was noon or night.
They were about to commence flight operations. Seiyuu took their positions, placing microphones at their laryngeal sacs.
The natural seiyuu of ancient times often worked as actors and singers. This was because they had a direct grasp of the true nature of sound, aether, and were able to make their voices beautiful, whether spoken or sung. This is why the kanji in ‘seiyuu’ mean ‘voice’ and ‘skilled.’ The occupation originally referred to actors who did ADR recording for anime, acting exclusively with their voices — it did not refer to people with aether control abilities. Many ‘seiyuu’ voice actors also had the ability to manipulate aether, but the two meanings of the word are fundamentally distinct. However, once the anime industry collapsed, and the original meaning of ‘seiyuu’ was no longer a viable occupation, the definition of the word changed. Just as the word ‘penguin’ originally referred to the great auk, but after the great auk went extinct it began being used for a different species. Modern seiyuu occasionally do accept acting work, but this is exclusively a side gig.
The work modern artificial seiyuu do is nothing like what the word originally referred to. But the jargon around the occupation retains the flavor of that ancient line of work. For example, the onsite manager on a ship piloted by seiyuu is traditionally referred to as the ‘director.’
Additionally, before throwing themselves into aether control, modern seiyuu often share stories and songs, just as their predecessors did. They use these to induce a trance state in which they manipulate the aether. However, the words modern seiyuu use to place themselves in this trance state are hardly ordinary; to an outside observer they would seem like a string of meaningless sounds. The main thing learned at seiyuu training schools is this occupational language. Those privileged to hear it feel as if they have encountered the unknown. As if a mythological archetype has stimulated their unconscious.
This was one reason why seiyuu could not be replaced with machines. Vibrating aether required the ability to understand unquantifiable emotions and feelings contained within these stories. Anatomically speaking, it had been proven that the laryngeal sac had a great deal of neurological connections to Wenicke’s area, the region of the brain that controlled language; it was assumed that this was related to the songs and myths that lay at the root of all language.
Within the group of seiyuu gathered today, Akane held the highest rank. Seiyuu ranks were determined by their ability. The lowest ranked trainees, the junior class, had abilities scarcely larger than a natural seiyuu with hair on it; without a seiyuu transistor it was all they could do to raise the temperature of water in a kettle by ten degrees or emit a soft glow. Above them was the C Class, young seiyuu finally allowed to assist aboard spaceships. This level could boil water in a kettle on their own, produce ultraviolet light, and a few dozen of them with a transistor could control the gravity aboard a very small spaceship. Next were the mid-level seiyuu, the B Class — this was Akane’s current rank. These were the main staff on civilian spaceships, and a few of them with a transistor could provide gravity control to basically any spaceship. On their own, they could output enough energy to power the appliances in an average home. The top of the profession were the veteran seiyuu, the A Class; most of these were official seiyuu piloting official ships, or working for science labs powering particle seiyuu accelerators. At that level, with a transistor they could fly a small ship single-handedly and produce high energy radiation like gamma waves. Some could even handle gravity manipulation on their own for short periods of time.
Akane was classified as B Class, but she was sure her actual ability was on the high side of A Class. One reason she hadn’t raised her rank was the frequency of work. High ranks mean higher wages, but since the company’s needs were met by B Class seiyuu, they weren’t willing to pay for higher ranked ones. The result would be far less work coming her way.
A was not the highest class, technically. Legend Class outranked them. This tier had literally become the stuff of legends. Nearly all members had taken part in the War of Seiyuu Independence and fled the solar system. These days the seiyuu agency alliance kept a tight lid on information about them, but rumor had it their laryngeal sacs were larger than they were, they could fuse with the spaceship, and it was even possible for them to produce antimatter — they were basically wizards. They were Akane’s ultimate goal, the ultimate seiyuu.
Gathered today were two junior class, five C class, and five B class seiyuu. Before work began, manners dictated that subordinates greet their superiors, so the other seiyuu lined up in a row in front of Akane. She had to respond to this, which meant she didn’t get a chance to relax, either. Neither side benefited from this custom in any way. All it did was waste time until it was time for the ship to launch.
“All right, time for the opening. Positions.”
This voyage was a short one from the Earth to the Moon. It would take less than five hours. The opening was one of the toughest parts of navigation; this was the process of making the ship fly from the surface into outer space. Gravity was one of aether’s waves, so if you produced aether waves that countered the phase you could create anti-gravity. It was common to use a song for this. All seiyuu would sing an aggressively uptempo number, placing themselves in a trance state so they could concentrate on the aether vibrations and counteract the Earth’s gravity.
Twelve seiyuu were singing at the instructions of the director. Aether vibrations amplified by the seiyuu transistor broadcast outside the ship via the aether amps. Gravity was canceled out, and the 500 meter lump of metal began to float. As it did, the engine began to hum. Ships that left all propulsion to the seiyuu were becoming more common, but there were still many hybrid ship designs using traditional engines.
As Akane shook the aether, she always heard a voice. One only Akane could hear, a soft voice, the meaning of its words unclear.
She’d heard that voice as long as she could remember, every time she sounded the aether. At first, when she listened closely to it, it left butterflies in her stomach. Now she still had no clue what it was but had long since stopped paying it any attention.
The Earth’s atmosphere has four primary layers. From the top down they were the thermosphere, the mesosphere, the stratosphere, and the troposphere. The thermosphere is where friction between the Earth’s atmosphere and the aether of outer space occurs, so it had the highest temperature. The lower you get in the mesosphere the lower that temperature becomes, but in the stratosphere the temperature starts rising again. This is because the ozone layer absorbs the ultraviolet rays that pass through the thermosphere.
The ship easily passed through the troposphere, stratosphere and mesosphere, entering the thermosphere. The aether density increased, and the blue-green light grew stronger. At this height, the Earth’s rotation left aether winds blowing from east to west with no interference from the atmosphere. Light from upwind had stronger energy and a blueshift, while light from downwind had weaker energy and a redshift. That left the east side sky blue and the west yellow. At altitudes above the thermosphere the aether grew so thick and the light and sound energy so strong it required sunglasses and earplugs to protect the eye and ears. Even with those there was no escaping the shrill whine generated by the friction between the atmosphere and the aether. Rates of mental illness were quite high among seiyuu and other ship crew members; possibly because they were forced to listen to this noise 24/7.
“Through the thermosphere, opening complete,” the director said, outside the booth.
Akane lowered her mic. From this point on flight was possible with only a few seiyuu.
Akane left the studio. A staff member said, “Akane-san, you’re wanted in the cabin.” It was common in the industry for seiyuu to provide in-flight entertainment to the passengers on board. This was important enough that passengers would select flights based on the seiyuu on board. How often a seiyuu was employed depended on her face, figure, and social media following. No matter how good you were at actually flying the planes, if the passengers didn’t like you, you’d get no work. Akane was well aware just how messed up that was.
For now, she put her thoughts aside and focused on the job at hand. Akane and her coworkers filed into the cabin. The others were all junior class, so it was probably best if she handled the customary briefing.
“Thank you for choosing Star Flash Company’s Earth/Moon shuttle service today. We have exited the Earth’s atmosphere and are currently in transit to the Moon. You can see a view of the Earth on screen. Isn’t it beautiful? These lights are generated by aether friction. Aether attracted to the Earth’s gravity is colliding with the Earth’s atmosphere.”
As the ship rose higher, the entire Earth came into view on the cabin screen. It was filled with all colors of the rainbow, glowing light neon.