PUT YOUR RIGHT HAND OVER YOUR HEART - Part 2

“Our guinea pigs are here!” one of the Charlie’s announced with more excitement than he should have. Stacey moved a few steps away from him. Some of the agents were too young and too hopped up on coffee or adrenaline shots to be there at 2 A.M. in the morning holding semi automatic weapons.

“Can you please keep it down? These people are already scared.”

“Sorry ma’am.”

‘Ma’am’ he said. Stacey could never get use to being called ma’am. Even in his extreme excitement, the officer could sense her displeasure. He leaned over looking at her name tag. Only medical personnel and the suits had name tags.

“You’re a doctor…It says Dr. Dr. Stacey Penski. Do I call you Dr. Stacey or Dr. Penski or maybe it’s just Stacey…

Stacey interrupted him, “Just call me Dr. Penski.” Something told her he had a lot more variations to go through before he would decide to stop. She ran her hands across her face, slightly pinching her cheeks, then brushing her hair out of her eyes. Her hair showed her age more than her skin did. A once vibrant shade of red now faded to a murky shade of orange. It had also thinned quite a bit over the years. Her husband said it was part of getting older; she knew it was because of stress.

She caught Bonnie’s attention, who was on the other side of the tent, and motioned for her to come over. They often worked together on these jobs. Bonnie was younger and much smarter then her good looks and enhanced 36 DD’s led on.

“How are you holding up?” Bonnie asked.

“I’m exhausted and they’ve assigned me Bouncing Bob over here,” she said referring to Charlie who was now moving side to side, his eyes darting around as if he was looking at some imaginary gnat flying about his face. Bonnie lean forward

“Did you get an adrenaline shot?” Bonnie asked.

“Yes ma’am er ahhh …” Charlie’s eyes were caught in her cleavage.

“Nurse Bonnie.”

“Yeah, sorry for starring ma’am…Nurse Bonnie I mean”.

“That’s ok. That’s why I got them.” She said holding back her shoulders just a little bit more.

“Yeah, I kinda get that.”


Stacey decided this would be a good time to step in and break his glaze which was still fixated on the void between her breasts. “Did you eat anything?”

“Those protein bars they give us,” he answered.

“Those things are loaded with crap. When you take an adrenaline shot, you have to eat solid food. No sugar, not even fruit, otherwise you’re bouncing off the walls, like you are now.” Stacey walked behind the desk and reached into her medical bag. She pulled out a sheet of pin shots. The needle was less than a quarter of an inch long and already coated with the proper amount of medication, in this case the chamomile shot which was an affectionate term for a downer narcotic. “This will bring you down,” she said. Stacey rolled up his sleeve midway to his forearm. She felt his pulse. “Your heart is racing. What are you 23? 24?”

“23”, he answered. “How can you tell?” Like the other Charlie’s everything is covered except for his eyes.

“The eyes tell everything. If you keep with those shots on an empty stomach, you’ll be dead by the time you’re 32.” She peeled back the protective plastic covering and stuck him with the needle on the back of his wrist. The needle has to stay in contact with the blood stream for at least 10 seconds. She counted. “It’ll take a few minutes.”
Stacey could see the other officers preparing the lines; the males over 12 years of age in one line and women and children in another. She let out a sigh. “Bonnie, switch with me?”

“Why?”

“I can’t deal with the children today. They cry and then the mother gets distracted trying to stop the child from crying. And then they start asking a bunch of questions. I’m just not up for it today.” Bonnie folded her arms and looked back at those waiting in the lines the officers were forming. After weighing her options she said, “I don’t want to deal with them either. I’ve already spotted a few criers in the line. I do better with the guys. They stare at my chest, I give them the implant, we’re done.”

In the background bouncing-Bob let out a “Whoa” and then he stepped back. “You alright?” Stacey asked. “Yeah, I just remembered something that happened a long time ago,” he answered. Stacey leaned towards Bonnie, “Its bad enough they assigned me this guy, so I’m sorry to have to do this to you Bonnie…I’m pulling rank. As one of the senior medical doctor’s in charge, I will do the males…you do the women and kids.” Stacey had never done this before. As the one in charge, she would usually give the option to the assisting nurse, but not tonight. Stacey was now in the position to request her staff. “I’ll request you Bonnie for future assignments and we’ll switch next time,” Stacey said. Bonnie half-smiled and gave a nod before walking over to her station.

Another Charlie came to Stacey, “Are you ready?” he asked. “Yes, bring the males here and the women and children to where the nurse is standing.” “Alright he answered.

For the night Stacey had two officers assigned to her. One was bouncing-Bob who was now still, like a mountain. His nervous energy was gone and he stood stoically with his weapon slung around his shoulder and standing in the military position. The other Charlie was stationary and sat at the desk behind her. This one usually had some medical training, but not a doctor. More than likely a more technical background. He sat in front of two computers and would partner with her for the next few hours to get the people implanted. On his left were the sanitized and sealed RFID chips the size of a shard of glass. They were sectioned on 8x11 clear sheets and encased in a steel notebook with a combination lock. Each chip was assigned a number pre-matched to the information received during the interviewing process. The people were then given a temporary tattoo, to match a chip number, on the inside of their wrist.

Everyone was starting with a clean slate: name – and the real name or you were not going to get through, any medical history, your line of work, family – husband, wife, children, education and religion – Catholic, Santeria or none at all.

The first man walked up. Stacey picked up the implant gun and placed the chip inside for preparation for the first customer of the evening. The gun worked with a high powered hollow needle that would pierce the skin and implant the chip. Stacey read the number tattooed on his wrist, “19736”. Stationary Charlie typed into the computer and repeated the number, “19736 – Luis Montoya”. Stacey referred to the forms to confirm the name and the info. The temporary tattoo was just in case people wanted to switch sheets or play games and ‘lose’ the sheet altogether. Both were highly discouraged.

Stationary Charlie read off the info, “Male” Stacey would refer to the info sheet, “Yes.” “Age, 32”. “Yes”. “Allergy – common hay fever.” “Yes.” This would continue until all the information was confirmed. The last question was “Are you Luis Montoya?” Stacey held a mic the size of a pen head to the man’s mouth. The man answered quietly, “Yes, I am Luis Montoya” as instructed. Stacey looked back, “Voice recognition confirmed.” Stationary Charlie repeated, “Confirmed.” On the opposite end of the mic was a camera. Stacey ran the light over first his right eye and then his left. She listened for a slight click for each eye, the sound of a picture being taken. “Eye recognition”. Stationary Charlie looked for it to show up on the computer screen. “Confirmed” he answered.


Stacey wiped down his hand with alcohol and picked up the gun again and gave a knowing nod to Stationary Charlie. First he needed to activate the chip which meant syncing up the information. Stacey had a earplug and on the other end was a sticky electrode. She would place the electrode to the pulse point on the subject’s neck which was also recorded by the computer. It took a few minutes for all the information to sync but this model of the chip did something more the old chips didn’t do. It webbed into the entire nervous system. The pulse would stop suddenly for 6 – 10 seconds, then recommence at the normal rate. It was as if the chip was resetting the body. All of what Luis Montoya was and was to become, became a file. A file housed by 5 simple numbers,
19736. “Done,” he said.

Stacey took 19736’s right hand. Always had to be the right hand, she never questioned why. She just followed orders. The chip was to go into the fleshy webbing between the thumb and the forefinger. Stacey pressed the trigger. A quick pinch – much like an ear piercing - another quick wiping of alcohol; and it was done. Stacey scanned 19736’s hand, Stationary Charlie looked rolled his chair towards the 2nd computer set in front on him. Luis Montoya’s, file opened. “It’s good”, he confirmed. Stacey listened for the body to reset, “Body in sync”, she called out. Then the process started all over again. There were 21 men and boys this time. She hoped it would go by quickly.

After the first one, Stacey would often go on automatic pilot, barely looking any of the subjects in the eye. Her mind wandered to her husband, Morris. What was he doing at this hour? Sleeping? Or was he out in the field like she was. They rarely talked about their work…truthfully anyway. Morris worked for the Food and Drug Administration, FDA. Other than that she knew very little. He met a few of her co-workers, but by accident, randomly at a shopping mall. She was meeting Bonnie for lunch and a little shopping and Stanley was there looking for a gift for her. Stacey and her husband knew how to keep secrets, much like the subjects getting chipped. The only difference was she and her husband were getting paid a 6 figure salary; these people were only getting 500 dollars.

Stacey was a general practitioner; before that she served in the people’s army, as most people had to. She checked blood pressure, did breast exams and a little more. It was the little more she didn’t talk about. Morris worked 9 to 5, depending on the state or country he was in. He traveled a lot. There were times when he couldn’t call. When he did, he could never say where he was, at what hotel he was staying or even which airline he was flying on. “I don’t want to lie to you”, he’d say. Eventually she stopped asking.

More recently she noticed, when he came home, his first stop was the shower. He’d give her a kiss on the cheek and then go upstairs into the bathroom and turn the shower on full blast. It was to mask his crying, but she’d still hear him. She’d sit outside the bathroom door and cry silently with him. Stacey didn’t know what was going on, but it broke her heart. Her hair was coming out in clumps and her Morris was sitting on cold wet tiles muffling his tears into his washcloth, but they kept those secrets.