Chip

A dystopian short story about technological brain implants

“Okay Mr Thompson, can you please look to the right? Good. Now to the left? Excellent.” He clicked the flashlight off and colours, vibrant, swirling and flashing, danced in my vision. A small whir filtered through my mind. 

“And how are you feeling in general?”

“Y’know, it is a bit sore,” I said, touching the cool metal on the side of my head. 

“Ah, yes, well, that is to be expected,” he said, glancing at the spot my fingers had just left. “I would avoid touching it, if you can. It could disrupt the circuits.”
“Is it that sensitive?” 

“Not necessarily, no, but whilst it is fresh, it is best to avoid touching it.” He stood, and reached his hand out to me. I stood and the dancing colours, though fading, still waltzed around on the walls and floor. The room seemed to eddy, like a stagnant lake disrupted by the first drop of rain on a winter’s day.

“Sorry,” I murmured, reaching out to the corner of the desk to get my balance. “Just a bit dizzy.” 

“Completely normal reaction. Don’t be anxious. The chip will help. Trust me, it will all work out in the end.” I grabbed his hand and shook.
“Took me a while to get used to mine, but in the end, it was the best thing I did. How long have you had it in for now?” 

“Just over a week.”
“Well, I’d say you’re over the hump now Mr Thompson. Enjoy your state certified implant and welcome to the future,” he said, with a wink and a smile. 

I had been resistant to the mandatory chip installation. They promised it would be the future. Clear online connection, augmented reality, a mental health and brain chemistry tracker, neurological impairment fixes, the lot. 

Part of me just… feel right.

“What could go wrong?” my mother had asked. “Mine works just fine!”

“Lighten up,” my brother said, staring at me but not focusing on me. “This is dope.” 

I couldn’t explain my reasons why. A little voice inside just niggled me to avoid it. 

In the end, I couldn’t escape it. 

A few weeks ago, my boss, Garret Harrison, owner and CEO of Harrison Advertising, called me into his office. 

“Calvin,” he said with a deep sigh as he leaned his body down into a velvet chair that groaned softly as it took on his weight. “Do you know why you’re here? Why I’ve asked to see you?

“No Sir,” I said, still standing behind the chair opposite his desk. 

“Sit down.

“Your numbers, Calvin, they’re, well they’re not good.” 

“But sir, my numbers are up on the last quarter. I’ve sold more advertising space, I got the natural foods contract for us, I-”

“Yes, yes Calvin I know. You’re working hard. You’re improving. But your numbers, they just aren’t competitive. You know?”

“I am afraid sir, I don’t.” 

“Use a bit of this,” he said, with a large grin, tapping the side of his head. “This, right here, is allowing others to overtake you. This right here, is bumping their numbers up. Record numbers Calvin. Record!” He swiped his hand in the air, as though he were waving at me or shooing a fly.

“Your numbers would have been excellent a year ago. Truly outstanding, and they are respectable Calvin. For an unlinked person. Just imagine what you could do if you wired up! Just imagine…” 

“Sir, with all due respect, I am simply not quite comfortable with it,” I said. He stood from his chair and walked behind me. I stood to meet him and he opened the door for me to exit. 

“I understand Calvin, I do. But these, right here?” He said, tapping, the door frame. “These begin to close. And they stay closed. Double bolted. Locked down. Don’t you want to see the company succeed? Don’t you want to be part of Harrison Advertising history? Part of the legacy?”

“Yes, Sir, of course I do Sir.”

“Well,” he said, placing a firm grip on my shoulder and steering me out the door. “Take some time off. Maybe, oh, let’s say, a week. Think it over. Otherwise…” he said, and closed the door in my face. 

Walking down the street, the air felt fresher. It seemed to climb up my nose and tickle my brain. It filled my lungs and my eyes watered with the cold crispness of it. It was like mountain air. Pure and untainted. But here I was, standing on the pavement of Fifth Avenue. Cars streamed past with a gentle hum. People walked past without a look. Brushing past. 

I waved my hand in front of my face, and the weather forecast appeared for the week. Sunshine every day. Occasional cloud cover. No rain. Bliss. 

“Checkin’ the weather, are ya?” a voice said. I jumped and my heart raced. In the corner of my eye, I saw the numbers tick up. 

65 bpm

132 bpm

I looked around. People continued to walk past me. No one was looking my way. 

“Did I scare you? Sorry!” The voice said again. “Look at me. Right here!” I turned back to the weather forecast, and from out behind the numbers and data, a head floated out.
“Sorry pal, thought you could see me.” He smiled, through his blueish, green hue. He was bald, clean shaven and had purple eyes that covered the entire whites. Just purple. He grinned wider, light streaming through the gaps in his teeth. 

“I’m Weatherman. What is it you want to know?” 

“I - Uh, sorry.” 

“First time huh?”

“Y-yes Sir.”
“Sir? Well, I’ll be. Haven’t been called that for a while. Did your installers not run you through the tutorials? How to use your implant?”

“No, I, uh, chose not to pay for that.”
“Hm. I remember when it used to be free. Or at least, included in the price. No matter. Ask away! Any question you have?”

“I - uh, yes. I’m hosting a barbecue next Saturday. It looks good on the forecast, anything I should know about?” 

“The Bureau are projecting a 3% chance of rain, but this is simply precautionary. You know how those Bureau types are. I’d say, A-Okay to go ahead with that barbecue of yours.” 

“Barbecue, did someone say barbecue?” A larger man, his stomach slightly hanging out below his shirt, appeared to my right. Like Weatherman, he too smiled a blue-light smile. It was soft, like the glow of the full moon on a cloudless night. Just enough to see. 

“You’ll need sausages and steaks and buns and sauce. I noticed you’re running low on mustard too, so I’ve added that to the list. Is there anything else I may have missed?” He asked, tilting his head to the side, still grinning wide.

“I - uh, no.” I said.

“Well now, enjoy the rest of your day.”
“You too,” I said. His grin disappeared and curiosity usurped his face. And he vanished. Gone. 

The world began to spin again. Swirling. Like I was in a giant bathtub and someone had pulled the plug. 

“You don’t look so good there,” a woman’s voice said. I kept my eyes closed, shut off to the world. The colours were back, dancing and jostling in my vision. They swirled and joined and a woman’s face slowly appeared in the darkness. “Blood pressure dropping. Heart rate is abnormally low for you.” 

45 bpm. 

“At least, for this time of day. Perhaps I should book you in with your doctor? Looking back through your records, he did say you should call in if there were any issues. Let me just - oh, sorry. I didn’t realise you weren’t a premium member. Only premium members can have their visits scheduled to jump the queue. Did you want to upgrade to premium? It’ll only cost an extra $150 a month. I’d highly recommend it.”

“No - no thanks,” I said, placing my face in my hands. Sweat slipped through my fingers and onto the ground. 

“Well, if you’re sure.” 

“Y-yes, thank you.” I breathed and stood, wobbling my way down the spiralling bathwater that the street had morphed into. 

The office was buzzing. Both with the hive of activity and the flickering of the fluorescent lights that lined the ceiling and the walls. It bathed the entire interior of the building in artificial light. It bounced off the windows that were always closed, and shimmied in the curtains that fluttered in the breeze of the air-conditioning.  

I had never noticed this before. 

I walked over to my desk, and everything lit up in front of my eyes. Files and messages and emails rushed toward me, fluttering in my face. I ducked and dived and suppressed a scream that was ready to burst from my lungs. But the dam wall burst, and a gentle whimper trembled out of my lips. 

“Makes things easier, doesn’t it?” Mr Harrison said, grabbing my shoulder. And I stopped spinning and being bombarded by an artillery of virtual correspondence. 

“I - uh, couldn’t say yet Sir,” I said, sliding out of his grip and sitting in my hard-cushioned desk chair. 

“Still getting used to it?” 

“I - think so.” 

“Good, good. I’m sure we’ll see those numbers boost from you. You are an asset here, Calvin, a quality one at that,” and he strode towards his office, and turned, grabbing the door. “But, assets are not irreplaceable, ha!” He said, swinging the door back and forth, pointing at the hinges as they cried in agony. 

The work day had continued with that buzzing sound that droned in the back of my skull. I stopped in at my parents’ place.

“Good to see you’ve join the civilised world lad,” my father said, slapping me on the back. The blow jolted up my spine and into the chip in the side of my skull. “How are you finding it?” 

“It - its,” I stammered. Dad stared at me with an anxious and excitable grin. “I hate it.”

His mouth fluttered open. A breath caught in his throat, a stifled word, then he closed his mouth again. 

“It is unbearable. Emails and messages hunt me down like a hawk does a rabbit. Bombarding me in my face. That incessant buzzing, non stop, it is driving me insane!” I brought my hands to the side of my head and squeezed. The pressure seemed to ease the buzzing. “I can’t think. I can’t do anything without them jumping out at me.” 

He looked at me. Really looked at me. Not through the augmented reality of his chip, His hazel eyes scanning my face and then, finally, resting on the chip. 

“It does seem to be sticking out of your head a bit,” he murmured. “Have you had a look in the mirror Calvin? Why don’t you go see your doctor.”

“Can’t. Tried. No appointments.” 

“What do you mean no appointments?”

“Something about ‘premium’.”

“You didn’t opt for the premium package?”

“Too. Expensive.” 

His mouth opened to berate me, when my brother walked in.

“Woah ho! Way to join the movement, Calvin!” 

“Have you got the premium version, Jase?” Our father asked. 

“No, too expensive for me. Why?”

“Your brother, he’s - he’s not having the best time with his chip.”

“Let me have a look, give me access.” 

“Give. Access? How?” 

“Here,” he said, and flicked his hand my way. A message in bright, neon green lettering flashed in my eyes. 

Give administrative and executive access to Jason Thompson. Nod for yes. Shake for no. 

I managed a small nod. 

“Right, let’s have a look here,” he said, flourishing and waving his hands around like a conductor at a concert. “Let’s change the motion blur to off, messaging settings to background and all other correspondence to background too. I’ve lowered the volume of the AI assistants, and made it so they are less likely to pop up out of nowhere.”

Relief washed over me. As if he’d grabbed a warm, wet towel and slid down my face. 

“How’s that?” he asked, looking into my eyes. 

“Better, better,” I breathed. “The droning is still there.”
“Droning?”

“Buzzing. It’s - constant. Doesn’t stop.” 

“Hm. Might be something you need to get checked out Cal, but other than that?”

“It has lessened. For sure. Thanks Jase.” 

“Ah! Calvin! Great to see you,” Garet Harrison said, walking past me in the lunchroom. “Those numbers, wow! Those numbers sure are big. Adapting to the chip, eh?” 

“Yes, Sir,” I said, ignoring the faint buzzing in the back of my head.

“Wonders, these are. Truly. Absolute God sends for our business.”

“I agree, Sir. Much easier for me to work.” 

“Well, keep it up! Might be a bonus in it, the way you are going. Glad you listened to reason,” he beamed at me, and began to walk away. “Oh, by the way, you may want to consider using this bonus on an upgrade to the premium services. I’m sure it’ll only help your efficiency! Good day, Calvin. 

“Good day, Sir.” 

I went and sat at my desk. Emails slid in gently from the side of my vision. I reached out, slid it across. Another client inquiry. I pinched it between my two fingers, and it compressed under my grip. With a slide across, I dumped it into a file labelled INQUIRIES. 

Something out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. It was flashing and shimmering like a lake in a soft summer breeze. Rippling. Swirling. I reached out, and slid it across to be front and centre of my vision. In the middle, in glowing, capitalised letters, it stated:

Looking to upgrade to premium? Worried about the cost? Look no further! Our info video will show you how. Punch the pop-up to learn more. 

The buzzing in the back of my head seemed to bolster with the pop-up. It hummed and seemed to scratch at my skull. 

I punched the pop up. 

A man appeared, wearing a wide grin on his face. His teeth were sharp and blinding through the purple-blue haze of the augmented video. 

Are you tired of the buzzing in the back of your brain? That clawing, incessant drone that has been with you since day dot? 

How could he know? I thought. 

Yes, I’m talking to you, Calvin Thompson. Yes, I know what you’re going through! I know the struggle! I myself, had the same reaction. I HATED my chip. Almost clawed the damned thing out of my head it was that horrific for me. And I went to my doctor. What a peddling quack! You know what he told me? He told me I HAD TO UPGRADE TO PREMIUM. What a corporate shill! Only in it for the money, those chip doctors. Those inserters. 

Well now, I’m here to tell you, I’ve heard you plea! I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. And I can offer you what few lucky people get offered. Premium service. For a fraction of the price! What do you say? 

I’d heard about these. They pry into your chip, sift and sort and slide their way in, soaking up as much data as they can to sell you a product that eventually gives them control of your chip. Control of you. 

I pinched it the man’s face, and went to drag him over to the bin.

Hey now, no need to be so hasty. What are you doing? 

And I dropped him into the trash can. And tossed away the garbage. 

Sweat had gathered on my brow, and I wiped it away, only to see his wide grin spread across my augmented eyes once more. 

I knew you wouldn’t throw me away. Now, let’s get started. To accept, simply punch the pop up again. To decline, give me a gentle flick. Emphasis on the word GENTLE there Calvin. 

I raised my hand and the buzzing continued in the back of my mind. Like a rat trapped in a wooden box, it clawed, desperate to escape. My fingers trembled as I flicked him. But he didn’t move. 

Well now! Glad to see you have accepted.

“No, no no no no,” I said, flicking in front of my face again. “I decline, I DECLINE!” 

…payment has been processed and, congratulations, you are the newest owner of a premium account! I’ll be seeing you… soon. 

And he vanished, his smile still lingering on my retinas. Burned in. 

The buzzing had gone. And the world seemed so peaceful, so quiet without it. But the smile, his smile still lingered in my mind. The street was emptier than normal for a Monday morning. I walked along, hummin a gentle tune to myself, when a message flung itself into my face. It read:

Report to the nearest depot to have your chip cleaned out. We have detected crimes committed by your chip, and you are required to present yourself to the nearest depot. Immediately. 

The depots were large, bland buildings. Grey concrete walls, polished concrete floors and an unmistakable smell of sulphur and welding fumes. The woman at the counter looked up at me, swiped away at her face, and rolled her eyes. 

“Need some help?” She droned. 

“Uh, yes, I was told to come here to have my chip cleaned. I received a message on my way to work this morning. Something about crimes committed?” She leaned forward, placing her hands on the table. 

“Are you taking the piss?”

“I - uh, no?”

“You really think we’d send criminals messages like that to ‘come to the depot’? Get out of here and stop wasting our time with your nonsense.” 

I walked out of the store and stopped. The buzzing in the back of my brain came back. High pitched and whistling. As though it were happy. 

Around me, the world began to eddy and swirl like it did before. Walls and streets and signs melted into a blur of colour, swimming and dancing in my eyes. And my stomach dropped, as though I’d been thrown from the edge of a cliff. Until…

Darkness. 

“Where - where am I? I said, my lips almost sticking together, dry and cracking. With a gentle woosh, like the wind blowing through the trees, the face appeared in front of me. Only this time, it was different. This time, it was there. The blue and purple gleaming lights were gone. 

“Welcome!” He said, smiling that wide grin. “Welcome to the interior!” 

“The - the interior?” 

“Yes! Thank you, Calvin. Truly thank you. Giving us access to your chip has allowed us so much. I knew you were a quality target when I laid my eyes on you. I just thought you were another rich boy. Rebelling against society by not going for the premium option. And then, I found your work documents. What a treasure trove of information! Delicious, nutritious information and data! What we thought would be a simple cash grab turned into more. So much more.”

“I don’t understand - what - what do you mean?” 

“Oh, I mean this,” he said, flinging his hands out. A square of light appeared in the darkness, like an old fashioned television screen. On it, I could see my desk. 

“What’s going on? How have you got my desk on this screen?” 

On the screen, a pair of hands, hands I recognised, were shuffling in the air. Files were floating, being pinched and stuffed into a large briefcase that glowed blue and shimmered. 

“Oh these files you have given us are simply priceless, Calvin. Advertising revenue. Customer data. Past and present trends. FUTURE TRENDS. Marketing strategies, and, best of all, manipulation.”

“Manipulation?”

“What, you didn’t know? Big Daddy Harrison has been selling off advertising space to the highest bidder. Working with them to manipulate the public to believe what they want them to believe! Buy what they want them to buy! Hate who they want them to hate! And you know who his best little pet was? That’s right, you.” 

“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, my head still swimming, as though I was being constantly plunged into icy water. 

“Don’t worry. You will.”

“Who - who are you?” 

“Oh, I’m someone just like you. Someone who wants to give the poor, average innocent citizens data to the highest bidder. Only my bidders have… well, let’s say, bigger fish to fry. Well, it seems like our time is up,” he said, pointing at the floating square screen. The glowing briefcase was flicked off, out of sight, sent away. 

“It was truly a pleasure,” he said, and, in a spin, I was back at my desk. My head swirling and rippling like a disturbed lake. A gleaming blue and purple grin burned into my retinas. The buzzing of a thousand bees at the back of my skull. And my boss, Garet Harrisson, staring down at me, flanked by two corruption officers.