Daphne Gilchrist sat in her office on Level Seven. She had her back to the glass wall with the privacy settings set to view out only. The face of a female doctor stationed on Exilon 5 filled her screen. Daphne leaned forward in her leather chair and examined the close-ups of a replicated identity chip, small enough to fit under the skin of one’s thumb. Stellar wave technology facilitated a clear line between Earth and Exilon 5, making it feel as though the doctor were in the next room.
‘As you can see, Daphne, it is a highly advanced design.’
She balked at the doctor’s use of her first name. Only Deighton addressed her in that way, and that was because she was too scared to correct him.
‘That’s Ms Gilchrist, doctor.’
The doctor looked amused.
Daphne seethed at the lack of respect being shown to her. It wasn’t that she despised women, but women knew how to be manipulative. And Daphne didn’t trust people she couldn’t control. Her strict, and sometimes violent, home life had made her fear the unknown. She liked knowing what was coming.
The doctor continued. ‘If you examined an original chip and a security chip side by side, you would see they both have an inbuilt communication thread, allowing them to talk to each other.’ She tapped the active thread on the replica chip with a minuscule pointer. The thread squirmed in the enlarged image as if alive. ‘This replica is mirrored after an identity chip. The thread here is composed of nerve receptor molecules, which normally receive signals from a cell. The security chip’s thread has the same molecular structure, except it has extra molecules called ligands that act as agonists. The agonists stimulate the receptor to send signal information, using the cells as a go-between.’
Daphne combed her fingers through her hair, mostly to settle her irritation. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault that she was in a bad mood. Deighton had called her again last night to remind her of Taggart’s arrival, as though she were incapable of remembering on her own. But this new problem on the screen needed her immediate attention.
The doctor’s soft tone irritated her. Her dark hair was tied into a loose bun. Blue eyes that placed her high up the genetic transfer list complemented her oval face. The doctor reminded Daphne of Isla Taggart, before she’d cut her hair.
The doctor waited. ‘Shall I continue, Ms Gilchrist?’
Daphne waved her hand to proceed.
‘The original and security chips can also work independently of each other. The identity chip is implanted at birth, but the communication thread remains dormant until the recipient receives a security chip. Once that happens their connection is live. Equally, if you remove one, they both revert to their original state and can work as single units. But without two original chips present, they can’t be activated together, as the unique connection no longer exists. Unfortunately, you need to activate a pair simultaneously to see if the connection has been severed.’
‘Did the host try to leave the planet? Is that how the replicated chip was discovered?’
‘No. Bob Harris presented with an infection yesterday.’
Naming her patient made the doctor too emotional. Caring about the Indigenes’ plight was why Isla Taggart had failed in Deighton’s eyes. If only she’d left well enough alone.
She shook away her thoughts and refocused on the doctor. ‘Did he try to remove it?’
‘He swears he didn’t. The chip is developed out of his DNA and becomes part of his body, compatible in every way. Mostly, it remains inert. He said he hadn’t tried tampering with it, either. Apart from updates to record changes in his work status and living arrangements, he’d forgotten he even had it, until a month ago.’ The doctor paused before continuing. ‘He was in a lot of discomfort, poor guy. Didn’t see it coming.’
There it was again: the emotional response that made people weak and controllable.
Daphne rolled her hand. ‘And?’ She had something important to do after.
‘Well, the microchip is an integrated circuit device encased in a polymer compound. The compound is created by taking a DNA sample from a baby, then mixing it with the liquid solution. The identity chip is then inserted under the skin of the left thumb. As the human body grows, the chip adapts to the host. The silicone breaks down over time, releasing a compound that partially solidifies the saline, holding the chip in place. Over time, the DNA polymer and saline fuse, providing the final housing over the circuitry. It’s entirely natural and identity chips never need replacing, just updating, which can be done with a simple tweak.’
Daphne sat back and released a discreet sigh. Someone else was listening in on the call. She had to sound interested. ‘And?’
‘The security chip is developed from a section of the identity chip. You see, it’s the DNA marker that makes them unique. If one or both chips were ever removed from a host, they wouldn’t work in another human. They’re worthless on the black market, but the public’s lack of knowledge keeps the market lucrative and their sale active.’
‘So, it was stolen?’
‘Yes, but it doesn’t make sense to replace it with something else. The chip is tamper-proof and will eventually destroy itself if physically removed. In theory, replacements shouldn’t work. That’s why this replication model is so amazing.’ The doctor produced side-by-side images of an original and replicated chip. Daphne saw no difference.
‘It even has a similar thread like the original one,’ said the doctor. ‘And it works. Can you believe it? Whoever designed this knows a lot about genetronics.’
‘What about the replicated chip? How was it discovered?’
‘The replication is superb,’ said the doctor, her eyes widening slightly. ‘Aside from being able to attach itself to the host’s DNA, it works as if it’s the real chip. As I’ve already explained, the originals must be activated simultaneously to see the problem. Fortunately for us, Bob Harris has a rare condition.’
‘How is that fortunate?’
‘Bob has a super-charged immune system that rejects the presence of foreign matter. He will never get sick. Only a handful of humans have this affliction.’
‘Knowing your area of expertise, Doctor, I assume you cannot brief me on genetic anomalies?’
‘Actually, I studied anatomy extensively before turning my attention purely to the sciences.’
Daphne waved her hand for the doctor to continue.
‘His unique immune system means he’s protected from the most aggressive medical conditions that still exist, rare as they are. The original chip bonded to his internal network because there was DNA present in the chip. When his DNA is removed from the equation, his system will recognise the object as foreign. That’s what happened here. His body fought the invasion and turned it into an infectious mass because the chip had nowhere to go.’
‘Is that how you found it?’
‘His thumb had blown up to twice its normal size. I didn’t notice the incision until I examined the area more closely.’
Daphne had heard enough. ‘Your analogy has been helpful, Doctor. I’ll be sure to pass on details of your cooperation to your superior.’ She allowed the lie to surface. If anything, a damning report would follow. It was nothing personal, but the doctor needed a reminder of her place in life. ‘Out.’
With a flick of her index finger, the screen changed and a new face appeared.
She forced a smile. ‘Did you hear everything, Charles?’
The man controlling her future smiled back; his watery-blue gaze lacked empathy.
‘Well, this is a turn up for the books,’ he said. ‘One of the buggers managed to fool us. I wonder how long they’ve known how to replicate the chips? Did Taggart know they could do this?’
One of the Indigenes was on the passenger ship, travelling under the alias: Bob Harris. Daphne was more worried about Earth’s protection from this threat than how he’d managed to do it.
‘What should we do?’
As though Deighton hadn’t heard her, he said, ‘Do you think we accelerated their cognitive function with the early testing?’
‘Charles,’ Daphne said softly, ‘how would you like us to handle it? I can send word to the passenger ship to take the individual into custody.’
Deighton’s eyes snapped up. ‘Nobody is to interfere!’
She recoiled from the screen. ‘Of course, Charles. I hadn’t intended on sending out an order without clearing it with you first.’
Deighton regained composure. His stare unsettled her. ‘The ship won’t be here for another five days. We’ll send a special team to meet and greet our new friend upon arrival. Don’t you worry, he won’t get far.’
That wasn’t what worried her. It was Deighton’s new obsession with the Indigenes and Taggart. A new plan appeared to be shaping in the CEO’s mind. She just wished she knew what it was.