Lock-IT!

”Thank you everyone! We’re Lock-IT!” I threw up some finger hearts and mildly struggled to keep my microphone steady in my sweaty hands. I took a bow with my girls and smiled for the various cameras zooming past us. We had just finished a concert for the closing ceremony of The 50, a lottery drawing for citizens to become the next big idol group. Here in Dadeun you either become an idol or become a fan—literally. Ever since the rise of girl groups and boy bands decades ago, it was all anyone could be now.

We have thousands of idol groups. Some get assigned to generate music for certain countries, some get assigned for specific genres, and so on. Millions of people loved us both in and outside of Dadeun. In my group, Lock-IT, I was the main dancer.

I exited the stage with my band mates. We rushed to the dressing room, tossed our mics to the tech team on the way through the door. The heavenly air conditioning nearly froze the sweat on me. At my designated corner, the stylists helped me escape my extremely tight leather pants.

With a headband, I pushed my straight bangs back. After taking a moment to collect my breath, I looked over at my girls behind me doing the exact same.

“Do you need something, Minji?” our main vocalist, Eunhee, asked.

“Yeah, an iceberg to fall on top of me.” I joked. A stylist handed me a tiny paddle fan.

"Gosh...why is this... always so hard? You'd think...I'd be...used to this...by now," Sujin panted. She had a point: considering our years of training after we'd been picked in the early days of The 50, it was surprising we didn't manage our hydration better.

“You’re all babies," retorted our visual, Monica. "C’mon. It’s already cold!” She had already cooled off and was putting on her loungewear.

“You can't talk,” Sujin groaned. "You never get hot."

We had two other members named Hana and Dul. As twins tend to do, they did everything together: changed, ate, went to the bathroom. They didn't speak much.

Once we were all cooled off and wearing loungewear, we made our way out of Dadeun Hall and into our cars. I locked arms with Monica and we both darted our eyes to our phones, ignoring the paparazzi and our surroundings while being guided to our transportation.

"Are you excited? We finally get to mentor!" Monica said, eyes still buried in her Gisul Phone.

"Super excited," I said. "Maybe these new groups will figure out how to sweat less!" A laugh from Monica.

The car ride back to the dorms was uneventful. We ordered food from our Lock-IT restaurant chain. We sleepily chowed down and all passed out within minutes. Our schedule called for waking up early to begin mentoring.

The following morning was hazy, but we managed to make our way to our assigned practice rooms. I felt I disassociated my way through the day. By the time our groups funneled in we had only 35 of The 50 left. Some got rejected because of the physical, or they'd failed the Entrance Test. I was greeted with a group of five chosen by the judges.

"Good afternoon everyone!" I greeted with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. "I'm Minji, your mentor from here on. If you don't recognize me, I'm the main dancer of Lock-IT. I'll be walking you all through the process for The 50 competition!" All the kids seemed tired. After a round of ice-breakers, I began the one-on-one sessions.

Cheonsa was my fourth session. She was 17 and had short, straight, light brown hair. Her full cheeks and long eyelashes gave her an innocent look. She was as tall as me, and very muscular for her age.

My eyes shot to her neck.

"Hey, you have our locket," I observed. I couldn't believe it—this trainee was a fan! Our group sold heart-shaped lockets as our merch, they came complimentary with our 5th album. From then on they were purchasable from our stores.

Cheonsa's soft eyes gleamed.

"Yes, I do," she responded, touching the charm. "My dad was a fan. He gave it to me." She quickly hid her hands behind her back and looked down.

"I'm your friend in this setting," I assured, noting the gesture of respect. "Not a superior. Don't worry about manners!" She nodded.

For the following weeks she showed to be a fast learner with promising potential, and had an incredible work ethic. She was charming, nice to all the other competitors, and was able to pick up choreography like it was nothing.

Once it came down to the top three we had longer mentoring sessions, which meant I got to coach Cheonsa further. I tried not to be blatant with the favoritism, but this was the first time there wasn’t any split bias—Cheonsa had won the support of many. I'd emphasized how important charisma was since it catered to fans who only decided their biases from stage presence. She'd taken all of the information really well. Opened up for once and joked around during the lesson. I was becoming sentimental, putting all my efforts into equipping her with the tools to conquer.

At the end of the day I ended up back at the dorms later than everyone else. There was food left out for me and I quietly ate by myself at our dimly lit kitchen table. I put my hair up into a bun, wrapped myself up with a fuzzy blanket and devoured a lukewarm chicken wing. I realized I could barely remember my trainee days, or who my mentor had even been. I had high hopes for Cheonsa. I was ecstatic that a new girl group had a chance of being more admired than a boy band. It was like seeing history in action: girls finally winning popularity over boys.

I headed to my dark room. Took a deep breath, shrugged off my blanket. I sat on my bed without laying down. I stared at the ceiling. Could I really contribute directly to a new women-led group? I felt as if I was going to jump out of my skin, like the weight of mine and every woman in existence was in my lap. I wondered if Cheonsa was still practicing where I'd left her. She tended to stay after practice to work hard to master what she was taught. After about an hour of overthinking I decided to head back down.

I entered my practice room slowly. It was dark. I heard deep inhales and sniffling, as if someone was crying. It made the air feel heavier as my hands slightly trembled, reaching for the lightswitch. I jumped when I saw Cheonsa bent over with a water bottle in her hand, as well as a bottle of something that couldn’t have been water.

“Cheonsa, what are you doing?” I asked, walking slowly to her.

“Go away!” She said, scrambling to hide what she was holding. I ran to her and grabbed the bottle out of her hands without much of a fight.

“A-Antifreeze? What are you doing with Antifreeze? And is that...Junho’s water bottle?” I couldn’t move. Was she doing what I thought she was doing? She looked up at me, her makeup waterfalled down her cheeks.

“I was going to poison Junho.” Her tone wasn’t shy or reserved anymore. She was mad. Enraged.

“Why? Why would you not just compete like everyone else?” I demanded, probably sounding intimidated.

“Do you even know what The 50 is?" Cheonsa rasped. "Why we have it? I don’t think you do. I don’t think you really care about any of us. You didn’t even ask me what happened to my dad.” She stood up, an accusatory finger pointed at my face.

“What are you talking about, Cheonsa?” My voice broke on her name.

“All you idol groups act like Dadeun is heaven on earth, as if Dadeun has no flaws," she spat, body and voice ridden with adrenaline. "All you do is sing songs and think everything is okay. You eat from restaurants named after you, and you don’t even talk about what’s happening to us or out there!” She flung that finger in the direction of a wall.

“Calm down," I breathed. "I think you’ve gotten too stressed; you need to get some rest.” I tried to touch her shoulders, but she brushed me off.

“SHUT UP!" The command sent me backward a step. "Have you even looked up from your Gisul Phone? Have you taken ONE LOOK outside?” She was at her wits' end. But a pang of something like guilt hit me. Getting out of Dadeun Hall I didn’t even look around. In fact, I didn't think I'd ever taken in my surroundings when I traveled outside of the dorms.

"What is this abou—” I was cut off by Cheonsa grabbing my arm, pulling me outside with immense strength.

We made it past the front doors. My heart sank, cheeks running hot while my fingers turned to ice.

Where were we?

“This… This is Dadeun, right? I don’t understa—” An impatient Cheonsa shut me up and directed my attention to a storefront full of monitors. There were about seven in that one window. There was footage of us, Lock-IT, and other groups.

And newscasts of what seemed to be a war.

“What is this?” I asked, my mind spinning at a hundred miles an hour. The air was thick and warm outside, not like how I remembered. The streets were mildly overgrown, yet neon lights encompassed the city.

“Exactly," Cheonsa drawled, a dark smile crawling across her face. "You've been blinded. Brainwashed. My dad gave me this locket because he had been your fan! He gave it to me before he went off into the Tech War! He’s dead!” Her voice had transformed into a high-pitched shriek. My heart started pounding in my ears. “I don’t even like your stupid music! Dadeun was the last civilization left after the AI took over the entire world. We were left because Dadeun contributed to the tech that started the Superintelligence, and the Superintelligence recognized Dadeun as their creator. You guys are just singing and dancing like nothing. Happened.”

I was out of my body at this point, scraping the pits of my mind for something, anything, to say. “This can’t be real. We even have groups that were assigned to other countries and they—”

“Those groups in those countries died too," Cheonsa snarled. "They were deployed as a peace service, to cover up that the Gisul Corporation had invented the AI. That AI got smarter and recognized humans as a threat that stunted their growth. The war ended with the world taken over by AI, and Dadeun kept the idol program because it was the only way to ensure that families kept growing. Their kids get drafted to The 50, and that’s how Dadeun maintains control over the last of humanity.” Cheonsa was sobbing uncontrollably, trying to get it through my thick skull that my own Gisul Phone, my own group’s endorsements, all contributed to the death of her father, and the downfall of the human race.

A knot twisted in my stomach as the realization became clear: If you weren’t an idol, you either worked as a pawn for Dadeun, or you worked to serve us. The status of "idol" was but a lie to cover up Gisul’s wrongs. The 50 ensured families multiplied.

“The AI even likes your music. You celebrities give us jobs—my mom works in your restaurant you order from every night." Cheonsa added amidst silence, in between gasps for air, "You keep the AI... peaceful.”

Her dad had rebelled against Gisul Corporation and died because of it. Her mom worked at our franchises.

“I contributed….to this?” I muttered.

“Yes. You did, as Lock-IT. A girl group by Chaebol Entertainment.” Cheonsa spat. She collapsed to the floor. Exhausted.