I am a voice mimicry streamer. I can imitate any voice, and I charge ten dollars an hour. I’ve had clients who just went through a breakup pay me to mimic their ex’s voice, begging for forgiveness. I’ve had clients pay me to mimic their boss, calling them "Big Brother" just to stroke their ego. Of course, there are plenty of people who look at me through a dirty lens—including my own mother. She says using my voice to make money is "seductive" and "shameful." Just as I was about to explain myself for the thousandth time, a new order popped up: "Streamer Cloud, can you mimic the voice of a dead person?" "Of course," I typed back. "As long as I can hear a sample, I can mimic anyone—even your great-grandmother." I didn't know it then, but that single order would change the trajectory of my entire life. 1 I’ve always had a knack for mimicry. It started with frogs when I was a kid, and as I grew up, it became uncanny. Men, women, children, the elderly—if I heard it once, I could replicate it. After getting laid off last month, I decided to try my hand at being a voice mimicry streamer. Ten bucks an hour. I become whoever you need me to be. Naturally, aside from the paying customers, there’s the peanut gallery in the comments section. They leave filthy, suggestive remarks: "Ten bucks just to hear a voice? I’d rather add fifty and get a 'happy ending' downtown." "Streamer, if I pay extra, can I get the 'special menu'?" I rolled my eyes and typed a reply: "I’m really curious about your upbringing. Why does everyone you meet look like a sex worker to you? Is it because you’ve never experienced a genuine interaction, or are you just proud of being trash?" After I posted that, the dogpile got worse. "She’s just making money by acting cute and moaning. Stop pretending to be high and mighty." To keep the chat clean for actual customers, I usually just delete, block, and move on. It saves my sanity. My mom, sitting next to me cracking sunflower seeds, leaned over and sneered. "I told you not to embarrass yourself. If the relatives see this, I won’t even have the face to visit them for New Year's." I just wanted to make money using my talent, but I was constantly being twisted into something I wasn't. My bio clearly read: [ID: Cloud. Voice Mimic. I can vent anger, I can listen. ZERO tolerance for sexual content.] When did my mom start believing that a girl with a nice voice must be doing something dirty? Probably a few years ago, when I got an opportunity to do dubbing for a TV drama. My mom saw my facial expressions while I was recording—the way I had to contort my face to get the right emotion—and she called me "mentally ill" and "slutty." She said I should get a "real job" instead of doing this "westernized nonsense." She showed up at the recording studio every day to make a scene until I was forced to quit and find a boring office job. I thought that would bring peace. But this year, on New Year's Day—my birthday—I volunteered to work overtime just to avoid hearing her say, "I suffered so much giving birth to you." My mom stormed into my office, screaming that my boss was a bloodsucker. Result? I was "advised to resign" again. She thought she was standing up for me. She called me a coward. It wasn't until the neighbors told her she was out of line that she backed off a little. I told her I’d look for a job after the holidays, and in the meantime, I’d use my voice to make some cash from home. She agreed at the time. But now, she was pouring cold water on me right when I was trying to build confidence, stomping on me while strangers misunderstood my profession. Her expression screamed: See? I told you this kind of work isn't decent. I sighed, deleting another nasty comment. Suddenly, a new order came in. "Streamer, can you mimic the voice of a dead person?" Business is business. I sat up straight. "As long as there's audio, I can mimic anyone." The user, ID "Sarah," quickly DM'd me a ten-minute screen recording. "Hi Cloud. I'm Sarah. Can you mimic my mother's voice?" I opened the recording. It was a long scroll of a chat history. Sarah’s mom had sent her hundreds of 60-second voice notes. Every single one of them had a red dot next to it. Unread. Sarah had never clicked on them. She had never replied. "Look at this heartless thing," my mom muttered, peeking at my screen again. "Her mother sends her so many messages and she doesn't even reply!" I stood up abruptly, hiding the phone behind my back. I’ve told her a million times to respect my privacy. She always counters with, "I raised you, I’ve seen every inch of you, what privacy do you need?" But I knew arguing would just be added to her ledger of my sins to be brought up later. "I have an order. I need to work. Please leave," I whispered. Mom grumbled something and walked out. I locked the door and opened the chat window. I mimicked the tone of the voice in the video and sent a message: "Sarah, I listened to the sample. How do you need me to cooperate?" She was satisfied with the voice match and gave me a specific request: "Streamer, I want you to reply to my messages without being a buzzkill. Be the mom who doesn't ruin the moment." I paused. I thought Sarah’s mom had passed away and she wanted closure, a final conversation. I didn't expect her request to just be... a supportive mother. Following the "customer is god" principle, I didn't pry. After receiving the payment, Sarah sent me an old photo to use as my avatar. It was a woman in a red wool coat holding a little girl with pigtails, sitting on the grass. Setup complete. Timer started. [Scenario: Childhood Sarah] Sarah sent the first message: "Mom, I accidentally broke an egg. I'm sorry." 2 She followed it with a blurry, pixelated photo of a broken egg on the floor. I typed: [Patting your head] Then I held down the voice note button: "Sarah, you're amazing! You smashed the egg into the shape of a little duck! That's so cute!" She replied instantly: "Mom, you're the best!" "But I only got a 95 on my test this time. Next time I'll check my work better." I replied: "Sarah, you got a 95? When I was your age, I was lucky to pass! Come on, let's go get hot pot to celebrate!" Sarah sent a laughing emoji. "Mom, I got the 95, why do I have to accompany YOU to eat hot pot? Humph, shouldn't you ask what I want to eat?" "Right, right! What does my Sarah want to eat? Mom will take you!" Sarah sent a thoughtful emoji. "Okay, let's do hot pot! But I want a bubble tea, too." "Deal! I want bubble tea too! Cheers!" Sarah sent a string of happy emojis, then switched the scenario. [Scenario: College Sarah] "Mom, I got a part-time job at a milk tea shop over the break. It feels like playing house when customers order, but I'm actually making money." I laughed into the mic: "I want to drink milk tea made by Sarah too!" "I'll bring you a cup I made myself after work!" [Scenario: Working Sarah] "Mom, I just finished a huge high-pressure project. Since the holidays are coming up, let's go on a trip together?" "Let's go! Mom will pack the bags, you book the tickets! We leave tonight!" Sarah was switching scenarios faster and faster. I thought she was about to send another one, but instead, she sent a sighing emoji. "Cloud... thank you. But forget it. Let's stop here." It had only been twenty minutes. I offered to refund half the money, but she refused. She sounded disappointed. "Sarah, are you unsatisfied with my replies?" "No, I'm very satisfied." Before I could ask more, she continued: "Cloud, your replies were perfect. You were the mother I fantasized about. It just... it felt too unrealistic." "Because in real life, every time I shared joy with my mother, it turned into misery. Every time I shared a problem, she made it a catastrophe." "When I sent you that screen recording... just hearing her voice in the preview made me feel like I was having a breakdown. I felt panic." "But she's dead. And I cry about it. I love her, but I hate her. I don't know what to do." Sarah’s voice trembled. It sounded painful. I typed: "Is there anything I can do to help?" "No. Today is the anniversary of her death. I'm tired. I want to rest. I'll contact you if I need you." I quickly replied: "Okay. Take care." I usually turn my successful orders into promotional videos (with permission). I posted Sarah’s video. Surprisingly, I got three more orders immediately. All people wanting to "talk" to deceased relatives. To say the things they never got to say. I worked until late at night. I had done eight orders that day. Compared to the three I did all last month, things were looking up. I felt like I was doing something good—helping people find closure. Just as I was about to sleep, my phone pinged. A voice note from Sarah. "Mom, do you know why I only ever listened to the very end of your sixty-second voice notes? Hahaha!" 3 Her voice was slurred. She was drunk. Heavily drunk. "Do you want to know, Mom?" I was exhausted, but to make up for the time she didn't use earlier, I cleared my throat and replied in her mother's voice: "I want to know. Can you tell Mom, Sarah?" Her voice was raspy. "Because I was afraid you had an emergency, but I was also afraid you didn't. So I only listened to the last sentence." "Mom, when I broke an egg, you beat me." "But when you were making breakfast and YOU broke an egg, why did you scream at me? Why did you call me a lazy parasite?" "I was six years old, Mom. If you didn't want to cook, you could have taught me." "I got a 95 on the test. First in the class. I just wanted a bag of chips." "You poked my temple so hard it bruised. You asked me why I didn't check my work. Why I handed it in early." "But Mom, I checked it three times. I didn't know why I got that one wrong." "In college, I worked at the milk tea shop to help with your bills. I wanted to share my excitement about my first paycheck." "You told me if I didn't study, I'd be selling milk tea for the rest of my life. But my grades were good! I got into a top university! Why couldn't you just praise me?" Listening to Sarah’s crying and shouting, my mouth hung open, unable to speak. Because my mother was exactly the same. I didn't know how to comfort her. She continued: "Mom, you always said Auntie Wang’s daughter took her on trips, and you were so envious." "Even though work was killing me, I wanted to take you on a trip for the holidays." "But you refused. You said you were used to a hard life, unlike me, who 'spends money like water' just to play." "My friends invited me to a nearby city for two days. You mocked me, saying, 'Two days isn't enough! Why don't you go for ten? Maybe you'll lose your job while you're at it!'" "You knew I never went anywhere except for work trips. Why did you say I was always playing?" "If I argued, you cried! You said I grew up and my tongue got sharp." "If I stayed silent, you asked if I was mute!" Sarah was screaming now, questioning the "me" on the other end. "Mom, when Dad got sick, I was studying for my entrance exams for grad school." "You sent me dozens of voice notes a day, crying that Dad was dying, that he was in pain." "Every time I rushed to the hospital, you screamed at me for not studying. You asked what I was doing there wasting time." "But when I stayed home to study, you called me heartless. You said I didn't care that my father was sick." "You seemed to forget I was taking exams when I was at the hospital, but remembered it the moment I was actually studying." "Later, I listened to you. I focused on the exams." "That was when I started skipping your messages. I only listened to the first few seconds to make sure it wasn't an emergency." "On the day of the exam, you stormed the test center. You screamed at me in front of everyone for not replying, for not seeing Dad one last time." "That's how I found out he was gone. I failed the exam. I never tried again." "Mom, why did you always hide the important information in the middle of your rants? Why did you have to send sixty-second voice notes for something that took one sentence to say?" "I wanted to see Dad one last time too..." "From that day on, whenever relatives praised me, you’d add, 'What's the use? She couldn't even pass her grad school exams.'" Sarah broke down into uncontrollable sobbing. I waited a long time for her cries to subside. I mimicked her mother’s voice: "Sarah, don't cry. Mom was wrong. It's all in the past." But she didn't seem to hear me. She spoke to herself. "I'm so tired. I don't want to keep going." I felt a chill. I sat up in bed immediately. "Sarah, listen to me. You got into a great university. You worked hard to earn money. You are amazing." She screamed: "Shut up! I won't listen!" "I'm terrified to make friends! I'm terrified to date!" "Because you always belittle me in front of them until I feel like I’m nothing!" "When friends leave me, when boyfriends dump me, you tell me it's because I'm useless. You say, 'No wonder nobody wants you.'" "If I die, will your voice finally stop echoing in my ears? Will the nightmares stop?" "Yes. That must be it. That must be the only way!" Sarah sounded like she was losing control. While I tried to comfort her, I clicked on her profile. She was in the same city. The location tag on her previous videos was only a twenty-minute drive away. To keep her on the line, I didn't hang up. I quietly texted the police on my other phone. The police replied they were tracing her location and told me to keep her talking. But my family was just like hers. How could I comfort her? I listened intently. Her voice was breaking up. Signal interference. I turned the volume all the way up. I heard the sound of water lapping. And the wind. It was getting louder. She was at the river! I texted the info to the police. I grabbed a coat and headed for the door. The noise woke my mom. She blocked the doorway. "Where are you going in the middle of the night?" I muted the call and whispered urgently, "I have to save someone! Someone is jumping into the river!" Mom shoved me back inside. "You aren't going anywhere! What if she dies and they blame you? What if you get sued?" 4 I stomped my foot. "Mom! I called the police! No one is going to sue me!" "If you called the police, why do you need to go? Get back in your room!" Why did I need to go? Because I wanted to see Sarah. I wanted to hug her. I felt like Sarah was me. She was doing the thing I had always wanted to do but never dared. I’m in my twenties, and I have no friends, no lover. Even now, I have a curfew of 9 PM. Mom glared at me. I threw her hand off and bolted out the door. Behind me, she screamed, "You're so loose! Running around at night! No man will ever want you!" I covered my ears and sprinted out of the complex. Only when I was on the street did I lift the phone again. Thank god. The call was still connected. Sarah was mumbling, unaware of what was happening on my end. I unmuted and steadied my breathing. I switched back to her mother's voice. "Sarah, it was Mom who didn't understand you. I suppressed you. It was my fault!" "But you are wonderful. You graduated. You worked hard to help me. You took me traveling." "Mom is so happy! Sarah, will you make Mom a milk tea tomorrow? I really want to drink it." Sarah laughed lazily. "Mom, stop acting. You aren't like this... you would never talk like this..." "Before you died, you handed me a bank card with seventeen thousand dollars on it. You told me you couldn't see me get married." "You said you saved it your whole life, scrimping and saving. You knew you were sick but didn't dare say anything because you were afraid of spending the money. Afraid I would spend money to cure you." "You said it was my dowry. You told me to find a good man." "You told me to be diligent at my in-laws', to do more housework, to be sweet so my mother-in-law would like me." "The day you died, I cried and begged you to stop talking." "When I took my life savings to the doctor and begged him to save you, he told me, 'Now you worry about your mom? It's too late.'" "Mom, I'm sorry. I know you loved me in your own way. But these words... they hurt so much." "Today is the anniversary. I miss you." "I miss when I was in kindergarten and you held me. Back then, you praised me. You rarely badmouthed the neighbors." "But when I tried to listen to your old voice messages... I broke down again." "That familiar voice brought it all back." "You cursed me under the guise of caring." "You told me to rest, or my eyes would go blind from the computer." "But on my days off, you woke me up at dawn. If I didn't get up, you called me a corpse." Sarah was gasping for air, sobbing violently. Suffocation gripped my heart as I listened.
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