The Charity Chip

by Brock Booher

  “This tiny device is a money chip. I’m sure you have heard of them. This particular device has been specifically designed for use in our program. In fact, I helped design the protocols and capabilities myself.”

  Julio pulled his hands into his lap and rubbed the space between his left thumb and forefinger with his right thumb.

  “In addition to providing you with monetary resources, this chip also incorporates several new technologies. It monitors your vital signs. It can detect drugs or alcohol in the bloodstream. It can even help us find you if you are in danger.”

  “But I can still live wherever I want?” asked Julio.

  “That is the beauty of our program compared to the programs of your government. Through this chip, we provide you with resources, but still allow you to keep your personal freedoms.”

  “How much money can I spend each day?”

  Isak put the demo chip back into his desk drawer. “That will all be covered during your orientation.” He folded his hands together on top of his desk and leaned forward. “Julio, did you enjoy your lunch today?”

  Julio fidgeted in his seat. “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you like to eat like that every day?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you like to have money for clothing and other basic necessities?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Isak reached into his desk drawer again and pulled out a tablet. He tapped it a couple of times and slid it across the desk to Julio. “In order for us to proceed, you must sign this electronic agreement.”

  Julio picked up the tablet and scrolled through the document on the screen.

  “The agreement is a lot of legal jargon required by international and national law, but it basically says that you allow us to implant the chip and will abide by the policies of Caritas. Just scroll to the end of the document and sign your name with your finger.” Isak leaned back in his leather chair. “Of course it includes a provision for leaving Caritas at any time, provided the chip is removed by our medical staff.”

  Julio continued to scroll through the document, but the language was complex and he understood almost nothing. When he got to the end, there was a square for his signature. He stared at the blank square. Then, before he could change his mind, he took a deep breath, and signed his complete name with his index finger.

  As soon as Julio finished signing, Isak stood and walked around his desk with his hand extended. “Welcome to Caritas, Julio.”

  Julio placed the tablet on the desk and stood to shake Isak’s hand. A wave of excitement and anticipation swept over him as he grabbed Isak’s outreached hand with both of his hands and gave it a vigorous shake. He felt a strange sense of relief, and at first he couldn’t put his finger on it, but then he smiled. I won’t have to go hungry again.

  “The next thing we need to do,” said Isak as he turned and opened the back door to his office, “is get the chip inserted. Let’s go see Doctor Kozyar and complete the procedure. Then you will have access to the money you need right away.”

  Julio’s excitement waned a bit as he thought about seeing Doctor Kozyar, especially to implant a chip, but he tried not to show it. He reminded himself that it was just part of the process. Millions of other people had been chipped. Why not join the modern world?

  Doctor Kozyar had everything she needed for the procedure laid out on a surgical tray next to the examination table when they walked in. “Please sit on table,” she ordered without looking at Julio.

  Julio hopped up onto the end of the table and looked over at the tray—a small syringe with a needle attached, a large syringe without a needle, alcohol wipes, some sort of plastic device, and a sterile package that looked like it had a large needle in it.

  “Are you left-handed or right-handed?” asked Isak as he sat down at the computer.

  “Right-handed.”

  Doctor Kozyar swung the tray over in front of Julio. Without asking, she grabbed his left hand, placed it on the tray, and began wiping the space between his thumb and forefinger. The alcohol smell drifted through the room. Isak typed at the computer.

  Julio looked at the syringes. The small one was clear liquid, probably a local anesthesia. The needle in the package was so large it looked like a drinking straw with a sharp end. The thought of Doctor Kozyar jabbing him with the big needle made his stomach do a flip. The wound that heals doesn’t hurt.

  After wiping down the skin, Doctor Kozyar injected Julio’s hand with the local anesthesia. It burned, but he could feel it working almost right away. While the anesthesia took effect, Doctor Kozyar slipped the plastic device over his index finger and his thumb. It prevented him from moving them and formed a perfect V shape. She handed Isak the sterile package and stood there with her arms folded while Isak typed away at the computer. When he handed her back the package, she opened it and snapped the needle onto the large syringe.

  “Where’s the chip?” asked Julio.

  Isak answered instead of the doctor. “The needle she attached is the delivery system. The chip is in the needle. With one smooth injection, it will be implanted into your hand. Nothing to worry about.”

  Julio worried anyway. He wanted to yank the restraining device off of his hand and run away, but he forced himself to be calm, like he was helping Doctor Barilla sew up an ugly wound. It was harder to stay calm when it was your own flesh about to be jabbed with a needle.

  Isak stood so he could watch the procedure, and Doctor Kozyar wrapped her long icy fingers around Julio’s wrist. Here viselike grip held his hand down against the tray, and Julio had to look around her arm to see the needle approaching his skin. He watched the needle sink into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, but didn’t feel it. It was a strange sensation to see the needle pierce the skin and know that it should hurt, but not feel the pain. When Doctor Kozyar pushed the plunger of the syringe, all he felt was pressure under his skin.

  It was over in seconds. Doctor Kozyar removed the plastic spreader, covered the wound with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball and a bandage, and began cleaning up. Isak returned to the computer. Julio sat there wondering how much it would hurt when the anesthesia wore off.

  “It is activated and appears to be functioning normally,” said Isak. He spun around in the chair to face Julio. “The beauty of this technology is that it only works for you. The computer matches the DNA markers from your blood samples to the DNA data from the imbedded chip. It is like your own personal electronic signature.” Isak stood and examined Julio’s hand. “How does it feel?”

  Julio shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt right now. Will it hurt when the anesthesia wears off?”

  Isak stood and started for the door. “You will feel some discomfort, but it will be minor. Let’s get you started on orientation.”

  When they walked out into the study area, Graciela, with her big yellow headphones, was the only one in the room. Isak led Julio to the computer next to her and pulled out the chair. “Have a seat next to Graciela.”

  Julio sat down and the computer screen came to life. Bienvenido, Julio Camino—scrolled across the screen. “The chip in your hand sends a signal to the computer and it knows who you are as soon as you sit down,” explained Isak. He held up a pair of small black headphones. “All you have to do now is put these on and follow the instructions.”

  Isak tapped Graciela on the shoulder again. When she pulled off her headphones, he asked, “Graciela, have you completed your assignments for today?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m just exploring free play.”

  “Would you mind helping Julio get started? He’s new to Caritas.”

  Graciela looked at Julio and forced a smile. “Of course.”

  Isak turned back to Julio. “Well, Julio, feel free to stop by my office before you leave today if you have any questions. I think you will find the computer indoctrination very thorough.” He extended his hand. “Once again, welcome to Caritas.”

  Julio stood and shook Isak’s hand. “Thank you for the opportunity.�
� Isak gave a gracious nod and slipped through the back door.

  Julio could feel his left hand already beginning to throb when he sat down at the computer and put on the headphones, but it was minor and he ignored the discomfort. He didn’t have a lot of experience with computers, but the indoctrination began automatically and was intuitive enough that he followed along easily. The presentation began with an overview of the program and its purpose. Next, Julio endured a lecture on the importance of good hygiene and proper diet. He only halfway listened. All he wanted to know about was how to access the money.

  Finally, a smooth feminine voice began to explain, “The money on your chip will be available as follows. As a new member, you immediately have two hundred euros to spend on clothing and other personal items. That money will be available for the first two weeks. After that you will have ten euros a day for food, clothing, and transportation. You may choose to bank up to fifty euros of unused money, but the balance will top out at fifty euros. You are never allowed to withdraw cash. Additionally, if you fail to report to the Caritas facility, or don’t complete your homework assignments for more than five days, the chip will be rendered inactive until you report to our facility and catch up on your assignments.”

  The presentation continued, explaining how to use the chip and which stores would accept chip payments, but Julio was lost in thoughts of spending the money. He stopped the presentation and tapped Graciela in the shoulder.

  She pulled one of the oversized earpieces away from her ear but kept her eyes on the screen. “Yes?”

  “Excuse me . . . Graciela?”

  “That’s me. What do you need?”

  “Um, I hate to bother you, but how many soles in a euro?”

  “One euro is about five soles.” She slipped the earpiece back over her ear.

  Julio did the math in his head. Fifty soles a day would be enough to feed both him and Raúl, if he ate lunch at Caritas every day. They wouldn’t be rich, but it would be more than enough to survive. Then he remembered the initial amount of two hundred euros, and began to think about all the things he wanted to buy. He was so excited with his newfound wealth that he barely paid any attention to the presentation on the computer. When it ended, he pulled off the headphones, grabbed his backpack, and started for the door.

  “Your chip won’t work yet,” said Graciela before he could get out of his chair.

  “No? Why not?”

  “Because you didn’t follow instructions. If you want to spend the money without problems, you have to pay attention.” She slid her headphones down around her neck and pointed at his screen. “You have to complete the segment on budgeting before the money is available. It can be very embarrassing when you go to checkout and the chip doesn’t work.” She looked at him and smiled. “Trust me. I know.” She slipped her headphones back over her ears and pointed at Julio’s computer screen.

  Julio looked back at his screen and noticed the prompt—Would you like to complete the segment on budgeting now? He sighed and slipped back on the headphones. The presentation droned on about spending habits and managing limited resources; he glanced over at Graciela and saw that she was playing some sort of game. At last the segment ended and the woman’s voice said, “Now that you have completed the segment on budgeting, your chip is now authorized for purchases. Remember to spend wisely.” Julio backed up the segment and played the ending again to be certain before he took off his headphones.

  He grabbed his backpack and headed for the door, eager to spend some of his money, but when he saw Graciela still sitting there, he went back. “Thanks for helping me,” he said loud enough for her to hear over the sound of her game.

  She nodded and continued to play. He turned to leave, but something about Graciela nagged at him. He went back and sat down beside her. She glanced over at him and slid back one earpiece while she continued the game. “I noticed that you finished your lesson a long time ago. Did you stay because of me?” he asked.

  She stopped the game and slid her headphones down around her neck. “Well, kind of. I am usually the last one to leave anyway. Nothing else to do.” She shrugged. “At least here I can play video games for free. It keeps me from being bored.”

  Julio grinned. “I figured a girl like you would have a boyfriend, especially since you wear a ring.”

  Graciela looked at the floor and mumbled, “I did have.”

  “He must have gone blind to have left you.”

  She stared at the floor. “He didn’t leave me. He got killed.”

  “I’m sorry,” mumbled Julio, embarrassed at sticking his foot in his mouth. She stared at the floor, but Julio understood the pain she felt and decided to change the subject. “What should I buy first?”

  “Buy some small things first to learn how to use the chip,” said Graciela. She looked him up and down and added, “Then buy some new clothes. You really need a new wardrobe.”

  Julio looked down at his dirty and worn outfit. “Good suggestion.”

  “Be careful. Money can change you.”

  Her advice made him remember a saying from Mamá. He smiled and asked, “Do you know what you call a dog with money?”

  Graciela shook her head.

  “Mister Dog.” Julio gave Graciela a big grin and headed for the door. He stopped at the door and looked back over his shoulder. She was smiling. He leaned back his head and barked like a dog, “Woof! Woof!” She laughed. He pulled out his skateboard and hurried into the street.

  CHAPTER NINE

  El Supermercado

  (The Supermarket)

  Julio stopped in front of the big supermarket at the corner of Plaza Manco Cápac with one foot still on his skateboard. Just like a few nights before, he watched the shoppers coming and going from the building, except this time he wasn’t looking for a mark. The anesthesia in his hand had worn off completely during the skateboard ride from Caritas to the plaza, and he could feel the chip pushing against his skin and the wound throbbing with his heartbeat. He peeled off the bandage and tossed it on the sidewalk.

  Since a money chip was required for entry, Julio had never been into this supermarket. Several store employees stood in the narrow entrance passing out flyers to shoppers as they entered. He couldn’t see the armed guards, but he knew they were there. He knew they were ready. He hesitated a few feet from the entrance.

  He remembered when the supermarket first opened. It was a big celebration, and the mayor even came to cut the ribbon. Julio, with his stomach growling, had stood on a park bench in the plaza dressed in ragged clothes as the crowd pushed its way into the building stuffed with food and new clothes. Since he didn’t have a chip, he couldn’t even get in the door.

  A few days after the grand opening, Julio was standing near the entrance trying to get a look inside. A big sign over the door read “Money Chip Required for Entry.” He could see a pyramid constructed from bottles of Inca Kola just inside the door. A boy about his age darted into the supermarket and made a dash for the display. As soon as the would-be thief crossed the threshold, an alarm went off and lights began to flash. Before the boy could reach the soda, two armed guards grabbed him.

  The boy had struggled against the guards. He kicked and punched with his free hand, but it was a losing battle. Finally, in a desperate effort to get free, the boy bit the arm of one of the guards. With that, both of the guards released the intruder and let him fall to the floor. But before the boy could escape, one of the guards pulled a black weapon from his belt and tased him.

  Julio could still see the boy wriggling on the ground in pain as thousands of volts of electricity surged through his body. His eyes had looked like they would pop out of his head. Spit flew from his mouth. His scream sounded like it was stuck in his throat.

  The guards had laughed and then hauled him off. All of the other customers passed in and out of the store ignoring the incident. Julio never saw the boy again.

  Julio looked down at the small wound still visible between the thumb and forefinge
r of his left hand. He figured there was only one way to find out if the charity chip was working. He shoved his skateboard into his backpack and headed for the entrance. He wondered if he would feel some sort of electric shock or vibration from the chip when he passed through the narrow entrance to the store, but other than the lingering throb of the wound, he felt nothing. He cringed and waited for an alarm, but nothing happened.

  He stood at the entrance for a moment and looked around. The size of the market was overwhelming. It was clean and well lit. Soft music played from overhead speakers. The shelves were stocked with everything from milk and mangoes to shirts and socks. Near the entrance and exit, he could see several armed guards with faces of stone, but the faces of all the other employees practically beamed.

  “Can I help you?” asked a young woman in a store uniform.

  Julio hesitated and then asked. “Where can I find a bottle of Inca Kola?”

  “Aisle fourteen,” she answered as she pointed and smiled.

  Julio thanked her and made his way through the shoppers to the beverage aisle. Just like he had seen before, he found a pyramid constructed from bottles of Inca Kola. He smiled and plucked a bottle from the display. On his way to the checkout, he passed down the candy aisle. How many times at the end of a long unfruitful day had he wished for the taste of chocolate? He grabbed a candy bar to go with his soda.

  He approached the store exit looking for cash registers, but didn’t see anything. They had stations for bagging your goods, but no registers. The young woman that had greeted him as he entered the store was still at her position. He approached her and asked, “Where are the registers? How do I check out?”

  “Oh, you’re a first-time shopper with us,” she said with a smile. “Sir, we use the latest chip technology to complete our transactions.” She pointed to the exit. “See those sensors that everyone is passing through?”