Drinking a cup of coffee watching smoke curl up from a few city blocks away. The latest explosion in an argument that got out of hand. Multiple sirens wale. It’s the second one today and it’s only 8am. This one is the closest to me. It was loud. The windows in the building a few rows down are shattered. All the others were in an entirely different part of the city. The dust and screaming far from me. Good thing I still have a mask. I hope it’s good for the dust and sh*t. I watch hoping something exciting will happen, but it doesn’t so I go back to getting ready for work. All because of the senate has a bill being voted on whether or not to require the population to have chips implants in their hands.
I go to turn the shower handles, but remember that it’s all run by the chip now. I wave my hand over the black square installed above my light switch in my bathroom, there is a beep and the shower turns on. I’m still getting used to this chip. My hand is sore from the injection. It has made my life easier, but apparently all of these bombs and shootings are because many people don’t want it. No debate only bombs. I was paranoid a few months back when they started rolling it out. Bodily anomy and all of that. But then my friends got it. They seemed fine, so that was all the convincing I needed. Just a pinch in my left hand and now all of my banking, personal information, and it acts as a key. Easy.
Taking the elevator to the garage. When I get to my car I panic. I forgot my keys. I wave my hand across my car and remember I didn’t install the chip reader to my car yet. sh*t and go back up to get my keys.
Once I get on the road I hit traffic immediately. Bumper to bumper congestion with police cars and ambulances sirens squealing to get by. The dust clings to the air worse than I would’ve thought. Almost like a thick fog leading to cars crashing into each other. Leading to more chaos. Driving on the sidewalk. Which I am fine with no one uses them anymore.
While inching closer to my job I look up apps to install the chip reader to my car. The world is becoming too convenient. Reading the reviews and I am trying to figure out which won’t give me a virus I see another app. Skipline. An app for chipped customers only.
The app is a way to skip lines for movies and while getting groceries, but also skipping traffic and lines to the subway. I can’t believe it. Reading the reviews, I still can’t believe it. Only five dollars. I got five dollars, so I download it. The app opens as soon as it’s finished downloading. Calculating it shows me a map out of traffic to a private road. The destination is my work. Incredible. I follow a red line given by the app.
I say goodbye to the traffic on the freeway with a few lane mergers. After a few turns a large iron gate stops me. The app beeps instructing me to wave my chip at the chip reader. I do and the gate clashes open to an empty road beneath the city.
I am so excited. I squeal and drive so fast down the road listening to the Skipline navigate me through this avenue and within two minutes I pop up and my work is on my right. It cut forty five minutes from my drive. I’m so early I find a parking spot and get a coffee. If I can do this everyday I can take my time and get ready. Workout. Relax. Even read.
I walk into work, the chip makes it easier to get through the new security set up. I look at the poor people waiting in line like losers. Who wouldn’t want this. I swipe and go right through the security checks. Swipe again, the elevator doors open, I go up to my floor. When I arrive at my cubicle I even swipe and the chip turns my computer on.
That’s when my day starts to be less exciting. I just stare at my screen. I have no new emails or projects to do. Not that I want a new project, it’ll make me look busy. I hear a voice a few cubicle down. Jason, the floor manager, I cringe at it. He’s making the rounds to try and get people to be on one of his projects. Not only would I have to look like I’m doing my job, but I’d also have to be screamed at and guilt tripped into actually being creative. I shrink and listen to the conversation.
Hey Mary. Did you get chipped?
No, I haven’t why?
No reason. A pause. Have a nice day.
Hey Harold, did you get chipped?
I have an appointment on Tuesday.
I’ll circle back on Tuesday to talk to you.
Hey Jon, he finally makes it to my cubicle, how’s going?
I’m fine. Waiting for him to ask for my help. Instead he takes a sip of coffee, which makes the silence even longer.
Did you get chipped? Clearing his throat.
Yeah. I lift up my hand to show the small bump on my left hand.
Great. He writes in his little notebook.
Why?
Management wanted to know. Something about new regulations.
Ok, thanks.
No problem.
He walks away. I listen him continue to ask the same question down the row of cubicles. As his voice is more distant, I start thinking of the strange question. Maybe they’re going to coral us and put us in a mass grave. I smile at the thought. It’s probably to update security or something. These chips are amazing. Who knows the limits of the technology. A little later Jason comes back.
Hey, Jon.
Yeah.
I have an update.
Is it about how many people got chipped?
A perplexed look falls on his face. Oh, right. I still don’t know. Something about security.
Like the bombings.
Probably. He pauses. Anyway, I’m going to need you to work with Carol to finish this quarterly report for marketing.
I frown. Embarrassed I was so excited when Jason walked back around. Isn’t that Carol’s job.
Yeah, he sighs. But apparently she’s behind. So I’m going to need you to pick up the slack.
But that could take all day.
Well, better get to work. He shrugs, sorry man.
Him brushing it off pisses me off even more. His back handed comment. His nonchalant passive aggressiveness to control and deflate the situation. They probably don’t even teach it to management, but only hire the employees who show it.
I smile and nod. Once his face disappears behind the cheap cubicle wall I panic trying to find where Carol sits. Walking up and down the aisles of uniform cubicles on the floor. I eventually find her on the third time around.
Hey Carol, trying to sound cheery. However, when I walk into her cubicle she swivels her chair, slurping ramen noodles.
What’s up? She gets out between gulps.
Jason told me you needed help with those quarterly reports.
She rolls her eye. I told him I just got back from vacation.
Oh. I say, an awkward pause comes between us. Do you want some help still?
She sighs, thinking about it. Sure. She shrugs.
She searches her cluttered desk full of piles of papers and binders to find a place to put her bowl of soup. Using the bowl itself pushing piles of folders and loose papers to make a place for the bowl. She must have spilled some of it because she licks her fingers and pats her hands on her brown turtle neck sweater.
Ok. She types on her keyboard and I watch multiple files open on screen. So I’ve compiled all of the documents and found some others. I was trying to put them all into one file.
Are you using Filey?
What’s that?
The Company’s AI machine.
Oh no. I don’t trust that stuff.
Perplexed I say, it’ll do all of this work in seconds.
Yeah, but I read somewhere that it takes all of the stuff on my lap top.
It’s not your laptop.
She looks at me like I said something extremely offensive.
I clarify. You’re only supposed to use it for work.
But who does that? She laughs coyly.
Most people.
She frowns. I choose to believe that isn’t true.
Not wanting to get into an involved discussion just say, well if you send them to me, I’ll use the AI and that way you won’t have to worry.
She leans in, I don’t think that’s a good idea. She whispers.
Why not?
Because management is going to want everyone to get those microchips in our wrists.
I hold up my hand. She jumps in surprised. After a pause I say, so will you send them to me. I can do it in five minutes.
Alright robot boy, she says chuckling. I hope that nickname doesn’t stick.
She looks me up and down like I’m a stranger, but I don’t care anymore just wanting to get all of this done and go back to doing nothing. Politics and conspiracy theories would have to wait. When I get back to my desk the files are waiting for me. I put all of them through the AI and within a few minutes the project is filed and finished. I look it over briefly and send it to Jason.
Now that’s over I can go back to doing nothing. Quickly becoming boring. During the rest of the day I teeter between staying in a lazy status and messaging Jason to see if there are any other projects I can attach myself to. Usually people in the office look down on it as brown nosing, but I’m so bored.
Around 4, the time I usually start getting ready to go home, I start to hear stirring of voices. I don’t look up just try to look like I’m busy. However, after a few moments Jason’s voice gets louder and louder. It starts to dawn on me that he’s going around telling people something. I don’t want any other projects. I start to panic more and more. Go to the bathroom. He’ll just come back. I stand up without a plan, but he is already starting to lean against my cubicle.
Hey.
Oh, hey.
Are you able to work from yeah?
Yeah, why?
Well, management has decided to let everyone work from home.
Oh, I relax. Great. Great news.
Have a good night. Taps the cubicle wall and disappears down the row.
That conversation changes things. I have to take my laptop and an extra monitor. I pick at random one of the two. With my laptop under one arm and the bulky monitor in the other, I hobble slowly to the elevator and down to the parking garage hacking my chipped hand in the air all the way.
Traffic is bumper to bumper on the way home too. It seems to have escalated since I’ve been at work. The police are out in full riot gear force. Making way for armored cars and jersey barriers blocked off parts of the city. The police are supposed to be directing traffic, but they don’t seem to care. I sigh. I have to work from home again.
Remembering the last time during quarantine. I lost my mind. Alone after the first three months. My girlfriend broke up with me. I thought we were taking a break, but as the quarantine wore on, it was clear she wasn’t coming back. I don’t blame her after eight years we just couldn’t stand each other. She thought having a child would save it, but I didn’t want to go through with it. That was that. Sometimes I think about her until a rage rises in me that makes me want to punch a wall. Other than that make mood is steady.
Anyway, once she left, there was no human contact. Only internet meetings. This time won’t be long. I keep telling myself. That’s what they said last time. We were working from home for a year straight. I can’t stand sitting here thinking this line of thought, so I beep my horn with the rest of the angry mob of cars.
It helps a little. I punch the dashboard to try to relax. I’m going to be here for hours with no where to go. I look at the computer screen on the dashboard of my car. I scroll through trying to find music or a podcast when I see Skipline icon. With nothing to lose I click on it. The app opens and already has a calculated route home. It starts with a blue arrow blinking to turn right. This blinking breaks the frustration I felt a moment ago. All I have to do is make it to the corner to turn.
After forty five minutes I manage to finally make the right turn. I am surprised to find that all the traffic in front of me dissolves. Empty streets. The Skipline app leads me to a tunnel where I am the only car on the road and I make it home in ten minutes. I can’t believe how quick. I have to make sure I am at the right apartment building.
Already dark when I get home, a lot of moving books and other laptops off my computer desk. Making sure it turns on and contacts to the company’s VPN. I wave my hand over the portable chip reader. The computer turns on. A sigh in relief as it all works. When it works well enough for me to finally give up I pull out my phone. Bored just scrolling through the internet. I eventually move on to news. Much is about this bombing that happened downtown. Apparently, it was big. I pull up the video of people screaming after the concussion blew down a bank building and a few near it. I close my laptop after a few minutes. Already bored. I have to prepare myself for working from home again.
During the last pandemic I stopped talking to people and became paranoid in my apartment that became so much smaller as the days piled up. I started to snap at my boss on calls and almost lost my job. I had had to start therapy to save my job. Started to come into the office once a week to become more socialized. In order for that not have that happen again I have to plan.
I start by going outside and walking around to find breakfast and coffee shops that aren’t effected by the chaos outside. Luckily, there is a local coffee shop across the street and a twenty four hour diner a block a way. I have food and a coffee maker, but I need the human contact. Even if the barista hates me. It’s worth it not to dissociate. It’s incredible how quick I’ll spiral out of control and become bored watching videos of the moon landing hoax. After finding one or two places, I start drawing a map to go jogging. Not only to stay in shape, but for fresh air. A difference in surroundings.
Walking back to my apartment the streets are vacant. An eerie feeling comes over me. This is how I get mugged. Not a pedestrian or car insight. The bars on my street are all closed, no one mingling around. The buses which are constant can’t be found. The cops aren’t out either. Apparently, keeping people safe doesn’t extend to pedestrians. If I were a terrorist this is where I’d be. Whatever. I see my apartment building glowing across the street. I look both ways out of habit and across the street.
When I get in I check the news. They are saying there might be a curfew put in place to get the city under control again. Great. This working from home will only be a few weeks tops. Now I can get comfy my prison cell. Another plus is it’s not a disease this time.
The next day I wake up and get ready for work. After I sit down at the computer and swipe my chip. The computer light up right away. I slouching down and comfortable for the long day ahead. I don’t have any projects and there aren’t any managers on to put me on one. I just make sure the my icon is green ready not yellow for idol. I roll the mouse all over the screen until lunch break. Right before I go to get something to eat a group message dings on my computer screen.
Jason is having a surprise meeting. Probably about how long we have to work from home. He’ll say something about we have to do our duty to our customers. To rally the troops. I click on the link and there are only ten people out of the fifty people in the meeting.
Hello, Jason’s voice echoes through the field of initials. There are apparently some problems with the new updates, so please bear with us.
Some people say ok while others give thumbs up emojis. I was hoping this would be a quick meeting, but now it might take a bit longer. I scroll through my phone and find a phone number to the local pizza place. It’s not great, but they deliver. I make sure my mic is off and go on they’re website and order a pepperoni pizza. I watch in silence as my pizza goes from being made to put in the oven and on it’s way to me. It only takes fifteen minutes to get it to my door. However, the call takes forty five minutes to get everyone on the meeting.
Ok, Jason’s voice comes on. I think everyone’s here now.
Sorry. Carol’s icon illuminates.
No problem, a myriad of comments and voices say.
Marty from sales says, didn’t you log in through your chip?
I don’t have one.
Not a lot of people do. Someone a bit more angry says.
Well, we’re all here. Jason tries to swash the conversation. That’s all that matters. The protests die down and Jason apologizes and starts talking about how the work from home is now indefinite until this situation (which means the bombing) ends. After all of this he says, now does anyone have any questions?
A few hands light up.
Ok, Sandra, what’s your question?
Are we going to have to get chipped for these computers to work?
No, I don’t understand why this is happening. I’ll talk to IT and ask.
Because I was going to get one, but the place that does it was closed due to the threat level.
That’s up to you. However, I will remind everyone, SimCon will pay for the implant. We just need the receipt.
Excuse me. Carol butts in. Not to be a downer, but I don’t want that.
Once again. You don’t have to. No one is forcing you.
Well, why did the new updates favor the people with chips.
I don’t know where you heard that, but that’s not true.
How many people had trouble logging in? She pauses but no one chimes in. Cowards, she yells into the microphone.
Carol, please. Jason says.
No. This is ridiculous.
Carol. Jason trying to calm her down, but she keeps getting more upset.
Unlike everyone. I don’t want to be monitored.
That’s not-
I’m not a sheep.
Shut up Carol. Jason finally losing his cool. There is a long silence. He clears his throat. Sorry, everyone. Carol, if you have a problem please talk to me after the meeting.
She doesn’t answer.
Ok, everyone, lets end the meeting there. If anyone has any other questions please get a hold of me.
He quickly leaves the meeting. I take a deep breath after the intense back and forth. I do destressing stretches before going back to work. I understand that the issue of getting a chip put inside of your body. However, I don’t understand the terrorism, there’s no need for these extremists. They’ll eventually lose and there will probably be an equilibrium between chip and no chip. Like cash or card. But people are so heated. It’s only a job. Maybe what they say on the news is true, that every job will have all employees get chipped. But that might just be propaganda. Carol has a right to be upset. Our employer should give equal opportunity to those who got implants and those who don’t, but that’s the way of the world. More and more people are getting it. Pretty soon a majority of people will have chips.
Maybe she’s so upset because she’s afraid of needles. I mean my hand is still sore after it. I even feel the chip rubbing against my bones. That’s about it. As the work day comes and goes I forget about the meeting. The anxiety it had given me radiated and dissipated by the close of the day.
After work I lay on my couch forgetting to take a walk. Needing to decompress. I flip through my phone. Trying to watch short videos to unwind. But that doesn’t happen as planned. Amber alerts loudly interrupt for bombings and shootings every few minutes. Not only are there the alerts, but I can hear and feel them coming closer to my apartment. It’s like I live in a war zone. What happened to people? Isn’t there such a thing as debate anymore. Between these alerts, Jason sends a mass text saying we will be working from home indefinitely. Roll my eyes. Fine. I don’t like it, but this problem isn’t going to end soon.
II
Over the next month, I make a routine of going outside to get a coffee before I have to start work. I just get a coffee, be around people, but when I walk out of my apartment there are police in full riot gear stationed in mobile towers on the corner at either end of the block. I cross the street and when I reach the end of the block a police officer comes over. Over this last month it’s usually officers named Mark or Billy policing this particular street.
Hey Mark.
Hey Jon, how’s it going?
I’m fine. How are you?
I’m alive, where you going?
The coffee shop, pointing to the shop about fifty feet away.
Do you have any identification?
I show my left hand.
Perfect, the police officer says. He pulls out the small chip reader and waves it over my hand. It bleeps. Alright. You’re free to go.
Thank you. I smile.
See you later.
I wave and walk into the coffee shop and there is a giant line. Fifteen people in front of me. It’s moving quickly. There are new signs up on the line saying chip only. Although it might be discrimination that’s probably why the line is moving so quickly. I order a large coffee, swipe my hand over the black square, and go wait for my coffee.
While waiting around a few people, one guy pops up from his phone to starts up a conversation.
This world is wild. Everyone nods or shrugs softly not wanting to continue the conversation. But it continues, those insurgence just let off a bomb. An icy chill goes through the group of customers. A sewage plant. sh*t all over the place.
Another one. An old woman in glasses says. The city didn’t even clean up the last one.
They don’t have the money to repair anything.
Typical. A collective murmur of agreement radiates through the patrons.
I heard they’re doling out the repairs to private companies.
That’s not a bad idea.
As long as it’s no my tax dollars. A low collective snickering follows between a few patrons.
I can’t even go into the post office without a police officer asking me questions. A business man say. Thank God, I got chipped otherwise I wouldn’t leave my house.
Me too. I go right through the security check points.
I heard they wanted to put all our information on it.
Good. The crowd nodding in agreement. I didn’t do anything. Why should I be punished?
Safe and effective if you ask me.
Black coffee, the barista calls out.
Thank God, that’s my order. I go and grab it quickly careful not to make eye contact with any of the others standing around. I don’t want them to think I’m with them. All that chatter about the world starting to make me itch with anxiety. I don’t disagree with them, but I just think when people start to group up like that it becomes a mob. Mobs aren’t great. I remember during the last pandemic there were gangs of people roaming the vacant streets making sure everyone wore a mask and had their vax cards on them. If they didn’t the mob might beat them up.
Luckily, this time the police are visible. They’ll probably run at the first sign of trouble, but at least it’s a kind of deterrent. Walking down the vacant street is like wandering through an abandoned theme park. The World that Was. The only cars are police vehicles with plenty of armor and no sirens. I reach the corner of the street and notice the cops lining every corner as far as the eye can see.
Jon. Voice behind me.
I turn and look at a disheveled young woman. It takes a few second and realize it’s my ex-girlfriend. I open my mouth to say her name, but close it again.
How have you been?
Why?
She frowns. I was just wondering. Both of us stand in silence. So, she hesitates, I was wondering if we could talk?
When?
How about right now?
I have to go to work.
You still work at Silk Worm?
Yeah. I start to walk away.
When can we talk?
I get off at 4:30.
Great. I’ll talk to you then.
I don’t say anything. I didn’t even ask how’d she would get in touch with me. I might have blocked her phone number. I stop thinking about it when it occurs to me that I don’t care. Am I being mean? I decide as the elevator doors open not at all.
Work goes without incident until around 1pm. In an after lunch daze waiting for the day to end Jason drops a message in the chat. Carol is no longer with us. I shrug at the words on screen. She should’ve gotten chipped. She made the wrong choice. I’ll miss won’t her. Her leaving signs the end of the silent protest of people who didn’t want to get chips. It took up so much of meetings and messaging. No one could figure out how to get on without the chip.
Should’ve gotten chipped. After one left they could’ve learned. Sure, it hurt when I first got it and my privacy is in a grey zone. I’m not doing anything. All of my information. I don’t need keys or passwords, even my direct deposit is all on it. Sure there are bombings and protests. But they’ve been dying down. It seems like the hardest part of whatever this world is becoming is over. Did the world become a better place? I don’t care. All I know is that all the people who refused getting chipped had to jump through hoops to do simple tasks. Now they’re all gone.
The world is looking up. Sure the state doesn’t have any money. These attacks are destroying the street, but I just read companies are helping by buying all of the utilities. Happy they figured it out. I quickly forget as the rest of the day goes by without incident.
Jason floats my name to start a project with some people with the tech department, but an hour later he messages never mind. With the day about to end, wondering what I should eat, my phone starts to buzz. I don’t recognize the number.
Hello.
Hey, are you done with work?
Almost didn’t recognize Kate’s voice. Yes. Sorry. Completely slipped my mind. Before she could say where to eat, did you want to the coffee shop across the street from me? I don’t have the energy to go anywhere else.
Sure.
I hang up the phone. I should’ve asked what she wanted. She probably needs money. Walking to the elevator. On the way down thinking of ways to get out of this. Fake a phone call. Be frank and say Kate you have five minutes. There are a couple more thoughts, but they dissolve into throwing coffee in her face. Or not letting her get a word in and instead just scream at all the memories that bring out this pent up rage I’ve had. When the elevator hits the ground floor I settle on just go back up to my apartment and turn off my phone. However, the doors open and the plan evaporates when her face is staring at me outside the large plate windows of my apartment building. Already too late. We make eye contact and she starts to wave happily. Defeated I walk out the revolving doors into her bear hug.
Jesus, I say as she squeezes so tightly, but all the anger and frustration melts away. It is nice to see her again.
Sorry. She lets and me go. It’s been a while.
Shall we.
We walk across the street to get a coffee. I open the door like a gentleman. She steps in front of me in line. She turns to talk to me and awkwardly starts to step backwards. She questions me and I answer back trying to use the lease amount of words as possible still not sure what she wants.
How’s work?
Good.
Get promoted?
No.
Seeing anyone?
No.
After these first few questions I start to relax and it starts to be a conversation instead of an integration. As we get closer to the head of the line I notice her become nervous. Talking faster and eyes darting back and forth. Until she’s next in line and then her arms folded and she becomes defeated and falls silent. She walks up to the barista. I listen closely.
Can I just have a coffee. Saying it with her back to me.
Would you like anything in it?
I don’t hear her ay no, but her body moves slightly side to side.
The barista moves on. $4.50. She pulls out her credit card. The barista points at the sign. Chip Only. Sorry.
Oh, she says. There is a pause. She is freezes in place. She bites her lip in embarrassment.
That’s when I realize she isn’t chipped. That’s why she’s here. Nowhere else to go. Her face begins to turn beat red. A thought comes across my mind I could leave her standing there. Let her get kicked out and just go home. A neat conclusion to our relationship. I hear the other people behind me groan and gossip.
No chip.
It says it on the door.
f*cking idiot.
I roll my eyes. I, is all I get out stopping myself, but I’ll never get her out of my life. However, it’s already too late. the barista and Kate are looking at me. I got it. I’ll pay for her.
Offering my left hand. Order my drink and wave it near the black square and it beeps. The growing tension in the coffee shop crest and breaks. We move to get our drinks and find a table.
This is a nice coffee shop. She says not making eye contact.
You don’t have a chip.
There’s a long pause of shame. Then she shakes her head.
And you got kicked out of your apartment.
She nods then sentences explode forth. Only because they wouldn’t take my cash. What kind of landlord doesn’t want money. I have plenty of it. Worthless.
That’s why you contacted me.
She nods.
How long were you planning to stay?
Well, my friend told me about these online jobs that you don’t need-
Interrupting her. How long?
I don’t know. She slumps down in the plastic chair. Sorry, you were the only person I could think of.
I’m honored.
She shoots up a second later, I have money so I can pay you if you let me stay.
I lean back in the plastic chair and think. If I say no that’ll probably be it for us. I’ll never see her again. Out of my life permanently. She wouldn’t survive the night. A dark part of me thinks about her being murdered in an alley somewhere or blown to bits. Within seconds of painting that scene I change my mind. I take a breath to pause and create a space between those thoughts and a new dialogue.
Alright, you can stay, but you have to get a job.
Alright, she lights up. You-
I put my hand up to interrupt the freight train of her gratefulness. How much money do you have?
Excited she rummages through her pockets, finding her torn wallet and running her hands a sizable wad of money. Probably $2500.
After doing a little math I say, pay me $500 a month. That’ll give you five months to find a job and hopefully move out.
Great. But how will I find a new place if everywhere is taking chips?
Get chipped.
I don’t want to.
You’re going to have to figure that out.
Her smile dims a little bit. Thanks.
No problem. Looking around the coffee shop seeing baristas mopping. They’re probably going to close soon, where’s your stuff?
This is it.
You don’t have other clothes or anything?
She shakes her head. It was all in my apartment.
Don’t landlords just throw the stuff on the street? Couldn’t you have just waits?
She shakes her head again. Not these guys. They incinerated it.
Jesus.
Yeah.
I stand up. Maybe I still have some of your clothes. I doubt it.
That’s fine. While you’re working I’ll go out and find some.
Like a cat?
An alley cat, she corrects me.
Alright, lets get out of here.
We get up and walk out of the coffee shop and just before we start to cross the vacant street Police officer Mark stops us.
Hello, Folks. He says friendly.
Hey Mark. I shoot out my left hand. How’s it going?
I’m good. I just got to check you and then let you go on your merely way. He waves the machine over my hand. It beeps. Great. Now you miss.
I don’t have a chip.
Oh, Mark says, I need two forms of ID.
She laughs, but stops when she sees Mark isn’t. Are you serious?
There is a pause and then he looks around, yeah. He says.
She fumbles through her purse. Handing me the large items a scarf, laptop, and others. I mean, I don’t even know what I have. She pulls out her license and hands it to Mark. There’s one, she says. She starts to pull out gum wraps and pieces of lent. I am more nervous, but I look over at Police Officer Mark and he is perfectly calm. She shakes her head, I…I can’t. Sorry. She chirps. That’s all I have.
He pulls out a smart phone with a square attachment at the bottom of it. I’ll have to write you a ticket.
What? Since when do I need an ID? She looks at me in angry disbelief.
But Officer Mark continues to hit the screen. Since the curfew, he says without looking up.
What curfew?
The city instated it an hour ago. He taps the screen one last time and we all watch as the phone prints her ticket. He tears it and hands it to her. Here you go.
Angrily she stuffs it in her pocket.
Have a nice day. Officer Mark tips his hat and disappears around the corner.
I breath out. Jesus.
What a dick?
I’ve never had that happen.
Me neither. Curfew?
Why?
The bombings?
They’re dying down.
Apparently not.
They made it an hour ago.
In the elevator, I what just happened. I become slowly guilty. I should’ve stepped in. But how was I supposed to know that would happen. Was I going to step in and fight a cop for my homeless ex-girlfriend. I look over at Kate. She has an eyebrow co*cked with her arms cross. I don’t have to ask her what she’s thinking about.
Hey, I say and she looks up sharply beaming at me. If you want I can pay the ticket. Thinking it is a nice thing to do.
I think I’m going to fight it.
How?
I’m going to get a lawyer and take that cops badge.
Or I could just pay it.
Don’t do that.
What?
You feel guilty about not doing anything.
I’m just trying to help. I forgot pointed rage. I know money is tight. I can pay it.
That’s not the point.
What’s the point then?
They can’t treat people like this. Just because I don’t have a chip. I’m being punished.
Just let me pay it.
No.
Come in.
It’s my choice and I said no.
Fine. I through up my hands. Suit yourself.
That elevator dings and the doors open. She stamps out upset and I stamp right behind her. She walks down the hallway remembering where what is once again our apartment. She stops at the door waiting for me. I swipe my chip across the black square and it beeps open. She sighs loudly but, still walks into the dark apartment. I close the door and turn on the light. She is waiting in the doorway between the hallway and living room. She trusts the ticket at me.
Sorry, she says.
You want me to pay it.
Yes, she mutters defeated.
Maybe I don’t want to pay it. Jokingly.
Oh, come on. Hitting me with the hand with the ticket in it. You really wanted to pay it two minutes ago.
I don’t know. You seem to really want to beat the system.
Come on. Pwease pay my ticket. She whines.
I guess I could. She punches me playfully. Maybe I shouldn’t if your going to be violent.
Oh, shut up. She starts giggling.
Alright, I take the ticket, satisfied and changing the subject. Are you alright sleeping on the couch.
I’ve had worse.
Great. She jumps on the couch and pulls out her phone. I go to my laptop looking up this curfew Officer Mark was talking about. I click on the first article. Read through it the first paragraph. There is a curfew.
Why?
Reading the second paragraph and then the third paragraph. The bombings.
What bombings? The last one here was what, a month ago?
Reading more of the article. According to this, they’re escalating in some places. So the government placed a curfew for the whole country.
Sounds expensive.
Thank God I paid my taxes.
She fake laughs.
You think they’d catch them bombers by now.
I heard the government are the ones doing the bombing.
The government. Why would they do that?
How can these bombers get into banks and state capitols?
People are crafty.
Not that crafty. I mean a police officer appeared out of nowhere and gave me a ticket.
I don’t know.
She sits up. Have they caught any of these terrorists or bombers? I should look that up, but I keep listening. They would’ve by now.
Ok, but why would they want to do that?
Maybe, it’s not the government. Maybe some corporation is doing it for the government.
What?
She starts the next sentence with I read this article and she drones on for about two minutes. I barely concentrate because it’s boring, but something to do with a coupling of government and private sector. Something to do with the chips and trapping people.
So they want people to get chipped to control them.
Exactly.
Sounds expensive.
She sighed hard.
It’s just easier to get around now with this. Pointing at my left hand.
I know. It’s frustrating.
Why won’t you get one? I started the sentence wanting not to fight, but it changed direction.
I believe in bodily autonomy. There is an awkward long pause.
Well, trying to move pass the pause, hopefully it won’t last long.
She doesn’t say anything. However, the argument isn’t forgotten only suspended for now. I surf the internet for a while, she sit on the couch and flips through her phone. The silence at first is uncomfortable, but eventually become warm. Without saying anything we both try to make the best of the situation. Once my eyes hurt I say good night and go to bed.
III
The next day I’m laying in bed scrolling through my emails. I find an email from the apartment management applying a surcharge. I check through the online portal and it says an unregistered person. There is a warning at the bottom of the email stating this will be a daily surcharge until the unregistered person vacant the building. I’m not sure if it’s spam. It says it was put on by the apartment management. It is fifty dollars. But fifty dollars every day. I call the office right when they open. Sneaking to my work desk as Kate is still sleeping.
Hello, I’m calling about this fifty dollar charge on my account.
What’s the name?
Jon Stampson. Apartment 514.
Listening to clicking of keys. Yes, you’ve been charged for having an unregistered person stay with you.
But she’s just visiting.
It’s still a daily charge of fifty dollars.
Those fees aren’t in my lease.
We updated your lease, which you auto signed.
Auto signed? I say becoming more angry. Is that even legal?
Yes, you signed and gave permission.
I don’t recall giving you permission. I say through gritted teeth.
According to our records you did.
I assure you I didn’t sign that.
It says you auto signed it.
What does that mean?
It means you signed it through your chip.
It can do that?
Yes, sir. She continued, but I hang up before then.
If my chip can do that, what else can it do. I cut the thought short. I don’t want to go down a conspiracy theory rabbit hole. I try to tell myself over and over it’s only fifty dollars. It’s only fifty dollars. But it doesn’t help. I listen to the shower shut off. Maybe I should ask her to leave. She wakes up on the couch in her pajamas and smiles. The thought melts aways.
Sorry, I was on the phone.
It’s your place.
I stand up. I’ll let to get to sleep.
Jon. I turn and look at her. Thanks again for letting me stay here. I know it’s a pain in the ass, but thanks.
No problem.
What time is it?
9 am.
I most have been tired. She throws the covers off her. I’ve got some applying to do. She walks into the bathroom and closes the door. I go back to work. I don’t tell her about the charges. I don’t know why. Would she pay them. It’s only fifty bucks a day. That will add up. I stop this line of thought too. I have the money. It’s helping Kate stay off the street. Why does that matter? Do I still love her? That question makes all the arguments in my head evaporate. I guess I do I decide. Although it makes me uncomfortable. Even if she doesn’t love me back. This statement breaks my heart, but I stick to it.
Kate walks back into the living room. I close my laptop and stand up. This can be your space. I pause and she just waits for me to finish. I already have a desk in my bed room.
K, she says.
I have to work, so I’ll leave you alone.
See ya.
I walk into my room somewhat upset. I have to remind myself that I decided to pay this fifty dollar charge to keep her off the street. The weight of taking care of her without her knowing it is driving me crazy as I sit working. At first, it’s just a small thought I can’t push away, but then it expands into something that actually takes me away from my work. Not that there’s much, but it distracts me enough that Jason sends more then one message of how I’ve been idle for too long. I decide on my next break I’ll tell her and see if we can’t figure something else out.
I take a deep breath and walk into the living room. I find nothing. She isn’t on the couch. Her laptop is still here though. I creep to the bathroom, but the door is open and there’s no one there. Maybe she went out. She did say she’d go out to buy clothes and things she lost from moving. I shrug and go back to my room. I lay down on my bed.
After a short amount of time my buzzer rings. I pop my head up. It’s never done that. Probably a homeless guy trying to get in. Then it rings again. I stomp to the buzzer.
What?
Hey.
Hey. Kate. Surprised to hear her voice. What’s up?
Can you come down here?
I can just buzz you in.
No, you can’t. Please.
Says who?
The security guards.
Oh.
After a pause. Hello.
I’ll be down in a minute.
In the elevator, I start to get cold feet. I could just go back upstairs. No more fees or charges. However, I can’t let her be held captive by building security. It’s strange that this building has never had a door man and now they invest in a security detail. Society has really fallen that much.
The elevator doors opens and the lobby is empty. I walk to the exits, but that too is empty. I look around the ground floor until I find an open door. I tip toe and peak in the room. There Kate is seated with her arms crossed not looking happy. I gently knock. The door opens and I find she is surrounded by three security guards.
Hi.
Hello, the old security guard says. Are you Jon Stampson?
Yes, I say as the other two security guards stand looking tough.
Do you know this person?
Yes.
Is she staying with you?
Yes, I say then follow it with, she’s only visiting.
You do know that there’s a daily fee with unregistered persons in your domicile?
I’m aware.
And you are aware that she doesn’t have a chip?
Yeah. I knew that.
When is she going to be out?
There is a pause. I try to think quickly, but can’t. I feel it’s going on too long. Friday.
Friday.
Yeah, Friday.
Ok. He looks at Kate. You’re free to go. He adds, you can’t go anywhere without him as your escort. Understand.
She nods. She gets up and we leave the office nearly sprinting. The only noise on the buffed title is our galloping shoes as we enter the elevator. Once the doors close that changes.
Out by Friday.
I panicked.
You could’ve taken a second. And what was that about a fee.
I take a deep breath. Lets get back to the apartment to discuss it.
No, I think we’ll discuss it right now.
No we won’t.
What are you my father?
No, I’m the one paying for your free loading life style.
Free loading. f*ck you.
No, f*ck you.
You know what this is why we broke up.
Oh really.
Yeah, you’re so controlling.
Controlling. That’s what you think happened.
Yeah, you’re a real control freak.
That’s it, not because you wanted to start a canning business from our apartment.
And you ruined it
Ruined it. I was the only giving you money. What did it amount to zero. See a pattern.
She is silent as the elevator doors open and she walks shrugging towards the door. I guess the argument is over. I feel something is resolved, but at what cost. I walk out of my own living room and slam the door. I go back to work. Throughout the day I think about what just happened. Thinking about going into the living room saying get out. Imagining having to call security to carry her out. However, I think it through and I don’t understand how anything has changed. Sure security seemed pretty serious about Friday being the last day, but I’m pretty certain that she can stay indefinitely. It would just be more fees, which I’m willing to pay. She’ll eventually find a job, maybe she’ll get chipped and put her name back on the lease.
After feeling good about this conclusion, I walk into the living room once work is over. The mood isn’t great. The only light is from Kate’s laptop illuminating her frowning face. Like a modernist sculpture, her head resting on her fist looking awry not at the screen.
Kate.
What? she sniffles.
I was thinking. I pause. I don’t care about the fees. You can stay. If you want.
What about those security guards?
This is my apartment, so I don’t think they can do anything.
They might kick you out.
I doubt it.
I go over, move the thick fleece blankets, and sit next to her on the couch. How’s the job search going?
Not great. Shaking her head. All jobs require chips now.
Even the remote ones?
Look, she hands me her laptop.
The hyperlinks of job postings, but all I need to read is the description in bold print stating chipped only. How is that possible?
Apparently, the government has mandated chipping.
I don’t have anything to say. Just puzzled.
What am I going to do?
We’ll figure it out. She buries her head into my armpit. I let her cry for a while.
III
The next morning I walk to get coffee for Kate and I. She texted me her order. If this mandate is serious we came to the conclusion it might be best she stays inside for the time being. It might not be fees, but actual arrests. When I get outside I notice there aren’t any police out. Maybe we wouldn’t have to worry. The lack of security might mean it’s almost over. Life can go back to normal.
I go to cross the street when I see a man in full kevlar riot gear holding a machine gun walking up to me. I stop.
Good morning, he says cheery.
Morning.
Would you mind coming closer to me. Through the muffled gas mask.
I don’t say anything. I only oblige.
Are you chipped?
I nod and give up my left hand.
He takes out the chip detector machine and waves it over my hand. It beeps. Thank you.
I walk across the street and he watches me go. He disappears, but as I get closer to the coffee shop only a street away I notice there’s another kevlar security guard. However, his uniform is the color of the American flag. I start to walk by him. He stops me.
Sorry, I’m just going to get a coffee.
That’s fine. Are you chipped?
Yeah, I showed it to that security guard.
I’m not in his zone.
Zone?
That section is patrolled by that company. This one is patrolled by my company.
Oh ok. Sorry. Confused I give him my hand and he waves his chip reader over my hand. It beeps and he waves my along.
I open and shut the door as soon as I slide into my apartment. I rush into the living room where I find Kate bundled up in a blanket watching something on her laptop.
Don’t go outside.
She looks up unphased. Why?
Because there aren’t any police-
That’s refreshing, she smiles.
No, there are new security forces everywhere. They have machine guns.
What?
I don’t know, but I get the feeling you’ll be arrested on sight.
But they’re not cops. I must have had a confused look on my face because she adds, only cops can arrest you.
Right, I pause as the panic runs out of my body.
Can I have my coffee?
I look down at the two coffees in my hands. Here.
Thanks, she shifts under the blankets. So you think they might have replaced the police.
I hope not.
She types into her laptop and starts to squint, here’s this article. Handing me the laptop. Reading the headline, Public to Private Due to Terrorist Threat. According to the article, the cost to fix everything the bombings have done is so expensive that the state and local governments are allowing to sell off public utilities and other administrative duties to private companies. Multiple companies will run cities by zones. My God, how bad has it gotten.
Jesus.
I know.
I wanted to go down the rabbit hole more, but I look at the time, sh*t I’ve got to go to work.
During work, I forgot about the morning excitement. The smooth morass of bureaucracy makes the day move normally. I don’t talk to anyone. Things are passive. Suddenly there is a buzzing coming from my phone which makes me jump out of my chair. I look at it and it’s an alert notifying me of a twenty four hour curfew. Starting within the hour. Indefinitely. Then there’s a knock at the door and Kate slides into the room.
Did you get this?
Yeah. Weird.
How are we going to get food?
Delivery.
Someone has to deliver it.
Panic starts to rise and I start shaking my head. I don’t know. Too flustered to think about all the updates that just happened. We’ll figure it out after I get off of work.
She shrugs and closes the door.
I walk out of my bedroom and Kate meets me in the hallway between the living room. Handling me a wad of money. I look at it like a child handing me play money. What’s this?
Figured out how to get food delivered. This is how much it costs.
You don’t have to-
I want to. That way you can put it in the bank and I don’t have to pay you back.
Is it monthly?
No, one yearly payment. I’ll send you the website.
Pausing looking at the money and trying to figure out how to deposit it in the bank without going outside. Have they lifted the curfew?
Oh no. She says. It’s way worse. There are huge protests happening.
She runs to the window. Look. I walk over to join her. There are people wall to wall in the streets. Ribbons of tear gas arch over them.
I step away. I’ll go pay for that food delivery.
I start to walk away and she says, one more thing.
What?
Have you noticed any kind of mood lately?
No, why?
There’s this article saying that the chips in people’s hands started as a way to pump chemicals into people to control them.
Nope. Haven’t noticed that.
Just wondering.
I’ll keep you updated.
I walk back into my room trying to forget the last part of the conversation and try to figure out hoe to use this food website. I type it in and fill out my information. Then there is a test to make sure I put everything in right. I press the button saying test and a clock counting backwards from five minutes. I get nervous. Glued to the screen counting down and once it hit zero three rapid mechanical knocks at my door make me jump.
What was that? Kate says from the living room.
I get up and walk to the door. I wave her off. I’ve got. I open the door and suspended in air is a drone. It clicks a picture and says thank you. Then flies off. I shut the door and go back to my computer. The screen say test complete. I schedule the delivery for noon each day.
The following days slip through our fingers with ease. Unimportant, a refine routine. The drone knocking at the door the only exciting part of the day. It’s mechanical three blast knock like church bells. Other than that the same boredom and frustrations. Then around five o’clock there is another knock at the door. Not the mechanical knock like the drone, but more authoritative, impatient.
I walk out of my room and walk by Kate. I smile and look through the peep hole. It’s three security guards. I wonder why there here, but then I remember it’s Friday.
Hello. I say.
Mr. Stampson since you have ignored our warnings of having an unregistered person in your domicile we have come to evict the person.
I do not give you permission to enter.
You autosigned the lease. We don’t need your permission. We were only being nice.
Well, you can’t come in. I grab the doorknob and lean against the door.
That’s fine, sir. We have a key.
I feel the door knob turn and the door opens even though I’m leaning against it. They walk into the apartment easily. I put my arms out. No, I say. They take a cylindrical device with a glowing red button. They press it and I instantly feel numbness starting in my left hand and moves throughout my body. I fall and they catch me.
Sorry about that. Just doing our job. The security gently places me on the cool kitchen floor. I can’t do anything, but watch three sets of boots go pass me. I hear Kate scream and watch three sets of boots leave. The door shuts.
I try to move any part of my body. After a few moments, I start to wriggle and eventually stumble to my feet. I open the door drunkenly and chase them. I don’t know where they went, but I suspect they will be on the ground floor. Running zigzag towards the elevator and crash into it and press the button as soon as the doors open.
When I reach the bottom and I am hit with the smell of tear gas instantly. I cover my mouth, but my eyes tear up quickly. But I fight through it and see the shattered windows and people with bats and rocks pouring into the building. I run through the crowd and see a security van which people are attempting to tip over.
I look into the windows and see Kate. I knock at the window and try to open the door. It’s locked. She sees me and runs to the doors. She says something, but the glass is too thick. The van’s engine revs and moves forward. I fall off the back and the van drives off quickly. Me and a few rock throwing protesters follow. I run faster and faster, but I watch as the van becomes smaller and smaller. I lost her.
