Chapter Two

“Please sign this.”

Betty Anne, the tall, stringy administrative assistant for Dynamica CEO Jeff Reese, dropped a red folder on Marc Tefteller’s desk. Marc, entering his sixth week as Dynamica’s Chief Marketing Officer, stared at the folder for a moment, swiveling in his chair. Hand-delivered documents from the CEO came in a variety of color-coded folders, representing topics and levels of urgency.

This was his first red. He knew that red meant ‘right now’.

“It’s a nondisclosure agreement,” said Betty Anne, a woman of minimal words. Her mind always seemed elsewhere. She was relentlessly serious for a thirty-year-old. She dressed in monochromatic pantsuits and always kept her hair up in a tight, controlled bun.

This typically provoked Marc to crack jokes, tease her or otherwise try to break the stoic façade. They were the same age, and he was a pretty boy, currently between girlfriends, and prone to flirting. But for the moment he was caught up in curiosity over the request before him. He opened the folder and skimmed several pages of a legal document containing the traditional boilerplate agreement over material information: do not discuss with unauthorized parties, do not trade company stock, do not redistribute confidential documents.

The topic for all this secrecy was referenced in a simple code name: Project Sky.

“What’s it about?” Marc asked.

“You know I can’t say.”

“How about if I bribe you with chocolate?”

“I subscribe to a chocolate chipfeed.”

“Let me guess. Are we expanding into Europe?”

She simply stared at him, so he kept going. “We’re introducing a new chipless technology? No more implants, we can send signals directly to the brain. No? We’re being sued by Disney for the alienation of their customers’ affections? Or the National Restaurant Association? The tourism industry? Or is it a change in leadership? Jeff is buying Hawaii and building a retirement castle? Or maybe – I know – I’m getting fired.”

Betty Anne still didn’t crack a smile. “Just sign it,” she said, impatient and expressionless.

He nodded, signed it with a big, fat signature, closed the folder, and shoved it across the desk at her.

She took it and said, “Thank you” with her back already turned, retreating to the CEO’s luxury suite on the top floor of one of Manhattan’s most prominent high-rises.

Marc felt excitement – his first red folder. His rise to CMO had happened quickly through a mix of luck, good fortune and circumstance. Nine years ago, fresh out of Yale University, he had rolled the dice and joined a young startup company with big dreams but no track record of success. Jeff Reese had assembled a group of technology innovators, neuroscience experts and creative thinkers to bring the human experience to a brand-new level. Using mathematic modeling, they sought to recreate the full range of human emotions and sensations by manipulating the nervous system and brainwaves through electronic pulses that prompted physiological responses, such as the release of adrenaline, synchronized with a vivid capture of the imagination. The earliest experiences were similar to virtual-reality goggles with important exceptions: the sensations were recognized in the user’s consciousness without external equipment and, once connected, there was no underlying awareness that the experience was false.

The magic took place through a small chip installed at the base of the brain. The chip accepted the user’s selection of encrypted signals streamed through the airwaves via satellite and transmission towers. Sensations were ordered by individuals through mobile controllers, with a private passcode for each offering.

The first artificial thrill to be tested was a roller-coaster ride. Once a user got comfortable, covered their eyes and triggered the chipfeed, they could not distinguish between an actual experience and a fabricated adventure delivered to their mind.

The simulated roller-coaster trip lasted four minutes and then reality returned in a gentle transition. A team of scientists worked tirelessly to ensure the experience created no damaging physiological effects to the brain or nervous system. Testing and research continued for two years to validate proof of concept.

After safely and successfully crafting a dozen experiential ‘highs’ – from hang gliding to eating pizza to making love – the floodgates opened and anything was possible.

Reese had the best intentions in the world: providing warm sensations of acceptance for lonely hearts; satisfying hunger for dieters; offering intoxication without hangovers and liver damage for drinkers; and providing a safe outlet for people to engage in activities deemed unacceptable in real-life social settings.

After achieving all the final regulatory approvals, the chip was introduced to the consumer marketplace. Reese and his team expected the product to be greeted with some trepidation and skepticism, followed by a slow acceptance. After all, surgery was required to install the chip and the entire concept was unlike anything ever offered before.

But as soon as Dynamica unveiled its groundbreaking technology, demand exploded. User testimonials were ecstatic. The general population, angry and frustrated with the state of events in the real world, embraced the escapism.

The company shot to the top of the Fortune 100 list of publicly held corporations. It moved into a big home office headquarters in Midtown, New York City. Dynamica’s distribution network canvassed the country.

Not everything went as planned. Instead of helping citizens lose weight through virtual feasts, the chip experience added pounds through a dramatic decrease in physical activity. Actual food was still required for general sustenance, so fast and convenient junk food became the norm to cheaply ‘fill up the tank’ between simulated gourmet meals. The average weight of Americans climbed.

But no one seemed to care.

As a junior marketing representative, Marc experienced the company’s rapid growth firsthand. As the company quickly expanded its operations and employee count to keep up with demand, Marc saw his own status rise in the company. All Dynamica employees were required to receive the chip to represent the company, so Marc signed up and received the installation without question.

He liked it.

He sampled a variety of popular chipfeeds and enjoyed them all. At the same time, he wanted to maintain a good balance with the genuine side of life. He continued to explore the sights and sounds of New York City while others mostly stayed in their apartments.

Marc crafted numerous marketing slogans and taglines; all of them were successful because the product practically sold itself. Dynamica became whatever consumers wanted it to be, fulfilling their individual desires and fantasies.

He regularly saw his catchphrases on billboards, integrated into social media streams and dominating television advertising.

Reality got you down? Pick a dream and lift off. Dynamica.

Love. Laugh. LIVE. The Dynamica Experience.

Taste your favorite flavors of life. Get Chipped! Dynamica.

Let us capture your imagination. Dynamica.

Marc grew overwhelmed with his company’s ubiquitous presence – it not only consumed his work life, it surrounded him everywhere he went. It thrilled him at first, to be part of such a significant movement, and then he became tired of it. The chip obsession was relentless. It was all his friends and family would talk about. There was no escape.

But the money was really, really, really good. And it kept getting better.

Marc did his job well, it was noticed, and Jeff Reese, the CEO, liked him. Reese had a special appreciation for employees who joined the company in its early, uncertain years, stayed loyal and contributed to its current success. Marc’s promotion to the C suite took place following the abrupt, unexpected death of the previous Chief Marketing Officer, a robust and jovial man named Steve Bowers. Bowers bragged he had sampled more than one thousand Dynamica feeds and while this was true, it also contributed to his enormous weight gain. He reached three hundred and fifty pounds before succumbing to a heart attack while exerting himself to tie his shoe. He was known to practically live in his office, filling his stomach with ice cream and cheese sticks from a mini fridge when he wasn’t binging on chip fantasies to experience his company’s products firsthand. Marc was a young choice to succeed Bowers as CMO but the other leading candidate was on an HR watch list for impregnating an intern, a regrettable lapse in blurring his fantasies with reality.

Marc enjoyed his new role, his spacious office and the increased interaction with the executive leadership team. Most of them already knew and liked him. He was particularly close with Brandyn Handley, the head of Distribution Operations. Brandyn oversaw the network of transmission towers, satellite stations and chip implant facilities that continued to spread like wildfire.

A few minutes after Betty Anne had left Marc’s office, Brandyn appeared in the doorway with a big grin, knocking on the frame. He wore chunky, rectangular glasses and a full beard, eyes lit up with excitement.

“You sign it?” he said.

“The agreement? Just did.”

“This is going to be big.”

“So what is Project Sky?”

“You’ll find out. Soon. But let me drop a hint. Imagine the biggest thing that could happen to this company. Because it’s even bigger.”

“Now I’m even more intrigued. And you’re not going to tell me?”

“Hey, I signed the papers too.”

“Fair enough.”

“There’s a big meeting notice coming. Clear your Thursday. That’s all I’m going to say. See you, man.”

Brandyn rapped again on the doorframe and was gone.

Marc shook his head. He looked around at his ridiculously large office. He still had empty shelves to fill, blank walls to hang paintings on. He turned his chair to face the scene outside his window – a sprawling, godlike view of Manhattan culminating in the lush green treetops of Central Park. The people below were represented by tiny dots of life, hundreds in every direction, each representing a customer or potential customer for the ‘Nirvana Effect’, a tagline he had developed in his first year at the company.

Marc thought, How much bigger can we possibly get?

* * *

Marc arrived early to the top-floor conference room as security personnel concluded a sweep for bugs. They inspected under the large mahogany veneer table, around the high-back leather chairs and behind two widescreen LCD monitors.

Marc stood off to the side, waiting for them to complete their duties before sitting down.

This was only his second meeting in Jeff Reese’s executive conference room as a member of the senior leadership team; the first had been a conversation about acquiring a company that had successfully launched a ‘pod room’ concept to consumers – small enclosed spaces you could build in your home for zoning out and experiencing chipfeed signals in the ultimate comfort. The pod rooms were cushy, soundproof and private with built-in control panels for selecting and streaming feeds.

“We could create our own subsidiary that does the same thing,” said CEO Reese, “much like we did to dominate the designer eye mask business. Or we could just buy them.”

Since Dynamica’s balance sheet was stuffed with outrageous profits, the decision was quickly made to buy the business outright. It was another offering for the new Chief Marketing Officer to pitch to the public alongside the wildly popular chipfeed subscriptions.

This meeting felt different, more intense than the acquisition deal. Reese, via Betty Anne, had stressed that it was in-person only (“whatever you’re doing, wherever you are, be here”) and required formal business attire (“suit and tie mandatory, we will have an important guest”).

Marc sat in a tall chair with his back to the wall. He faced the sky and clouds. The meeting room’s floor-to-ceiling windows towered above Midtown. Few buildings were taller.

Gradually the room filled with Dynamica’s executive team as they dropped into seats around the table. Eight men and four women. Brandyn Handley sat next to Marc, smiled and said nothing.

There was minimal chatter and full attendance. The room went completely silent when Reese arrived and stood by his chair at the head of the table. A big bronze Dynamica logo dominated the wall behind him.

“Good,” he said. His eyes searched the room. “You’re all here. Phones put away. Laptops closed. Pens down. This is big news, and we cannot allow it to leak before we are ready to go public. Thank you for signing your nondisclosure papers. You’re already under a broad NDA as members of the senior leadership team, but this information is highly material and requires extra stringent precautions. You’re officially on the blackout list, prohibited from trading company securities. I know you know the drill, but it’s worth repeating. This is very sensitive, and we must control the timing and the messaging. Are we in agreement?”

Heads nodded around the table.

“I am incredibly proud of what we – what you – have achieved in the past few years. No one could have predicted this kind of success. We took risks. We broke new ground. We mastered the integration of cutting-edge technology with the human brain. We delivered exactly what the consumer wanted – escapism in a troubled world – and we were rewarded handsomely. Today, our customer base represents a very large portion of the public. We have become a vital part of everyday life. And we are about to get even bigger. How is that possible, you ask? Through total saturation. We are going to serve one hundred percent of the American public. That’s right, I said one hundred percent. Getting there requires a special partner. Someone who recognizes and appreciates the value of what we do – and possesses the power to take it to the next level. Someone who can produce a mandate so that no one is left behind when it comes to the miracle of chip technology. This time next year, every man, woman and child across America will be chipped. That’s because it is becoming law. In two weeks, we are announcing a partnership with the United States government.”

He paused for a moment to let this sink in, enjoying the surprised reactions around the table. “Everyone, I would like to introduce you to Wilbur Kepling. Mr. Kepling heads up the U.S. Department of Citizen Affairs, a federal agency dedicated to the welfare of the people. Mr. Kepling, please come in and meet the Dynamica leadership team.”

A tall, gaunt man with white hair and pale blue eyes stepped into the conference room from where he had been waiting just outside the door. He smiled, looked at the faces around the table and stood alongside Jeff Reese.

“Mr. Kepling will now describe this new partnership and the benefits it will bring to society. This is truly a revolutionary moment we can all be proud of. Mr. Kepling, the floor is yours.”

Reese sat down in his chair as Kepling began a slow stroll around the room, delivering a short speech in a slight southern accent. Heads turned to look at him as he passed by each corporate leader in the room.

“You may have wondered about our project’s code name, which was referenced in the papers you all signed. Project Sky. What does it mean? Well, the sky encompasses all, does it not? It is there above us, around us, wherever we go. It is a constant that unites us. If we took on the perspective of the sky, we would see all and know all, would we not?”

He chuckled. “We’ve been monitoring your products and services very closely. At first perhaps, admittedly, with alarm. But you can’t change the tide of consumer demand – they want what they want. If you deny the people, they’ll find another way. If we shut down Dynamica, a thousand imitators would take its place, what we call ‘fast followers’, who steal your patents and technology breakthroughs and bring them to the market in legal or illegal ways, cheaper, less safe, less controlled. It’s like handing over drugs to the drug dealers. Or moonshine to the bootleggers. It’s much more powerful if you find a way to work with – not against – the desires of the people. So we looked at your chip technology not as a threat, but as an opportunity.”

Kepling stopped for a moment behind Marc’s chair. Marc started to crane his neck to look at him, and then simply looked down at the table’s shiny wood surface. He kept his reaction neutral. He didn’t know yet how he felt about this arrangement. While others already wore smiles, Marc felt a sinking feeling in his gut.

“As Jeff said, we are entering into a partnership that will require all citizens to be chipped. The government is going to leverage your technology for the benefit of the American people. We do not have a clear, accurate account of the population. The Census Bureau is perennially outdated and unreliable. We have a hodgepodge of systems. Social Security numbers. Tax IDs. Voter registration. Driver’s licenses. Imperfect at best. For the first time, we will have a uniform tracking system that provides an accurate representation of the people. Everyone is accounted for. Everyone is logged into a master database where we can ensure they are receiving the appropriate allocation of social services and government benefits. Everyone can be treated equally, truly for the first time. We will restore some social order. That includes citizenship rights for lawful immigrants. Equal education credits. Consistent taxation. Balanced allocation of property and other common assets.”

Some of the smiles around the room turned into uncertain glances. Kepling began pacing again. “Now, of course, there will be exceptions for exceptional people. Please don’t consider this as some kind of socialist programming. That’s where the consolidated oversight comes in, a discipline that frankly, has not existed in a proper form under traditional methods. For instance, let’s discuss criminal activity. By placing everyone on a common grid, we can maximize the support we give to law officials. We can color- code citizens as to their risk level, meaning the danger they may present to society. We will have a faster, more effective means of stopping and preventing crime. Let me share some scenarios.”

Kepling stood at one of the tall windows. He faced a pale blue sky. “A child is abducted. Immediately we can track and recover that child – and apprehend the kidnapper. For criminals, there is no such thing as a hiding place. The chip tells us their location in real time. We will use the chip to find fugitives, to stop those who do harm to others. Another scenario: an active shooter erupts somewhere, spraying bullets at innocent bystanders. Within seconds of being notified of this behavior, we can send a signal to the chip that stops the attacker immediately – paralyzes him – bringing him down before the body count goes up. It’s as simple as the press of a button from a government agency receiving countrywide alerts. Another example? The suicidal and mentally ill. We will be able to substitute the toxic torment of a sick mind with happy thoughts and feelings. Again, a press of a button. Think of the wellness clinics we could create. We will have direct access to address disorders of the mind: violence, anxiety, sadness. No one needs to be unhappy. We can be the happiest country on earth.”

Kepling left the window to continue circling the room. “Jeff referred to this as a revolution, and while I appreciate this description, it is really more of an evolution. We are already deep into the era of data and analytics. We have smart technology in our phones, our cars, our homes. Now we have it in our heads. It’s a natural progression. There should be nothing shocking about it, but we know there will be some resistance when the mandate is introduced. Every citizen of the United States will require the chip. Every child that is born in this country will receive the chip. And, we will enforce it with every means at our disposal. It’s only fair – as Americans, we are all in this together. Fortunately, a huge proportion of the population already has the chip. And, as your company has carefully communicated, removal of the chip is extremely dangerous and could result in death, paralysis and all the other footnotes in your television ads. Once it’s in, it’s in. You don’t attach something so intricate to your brain and spine, and then just rip it out. I’ve heard the stories of those who have tried, and your legal team has addressed the lawsuits with great vigor and success.”

Marc winced; he knew the PR team that had worked closely on the reputational issues related to the deaths. It had been very difficult and led to even stronger disclaimers in all marketing materials.

“Dynamica has a very strong team,” said Kepling, circling past Jeff Reese and patting his shoulder. “That is why we are so excited to partner with you. You are a number-one company that attracts top talent. You have an extremely powerful brand. At the beginning, I know, there will be some public outcry. The usual noise about freedoms and privacy – too much government, too much information sharing. But it is for the greater good of the people. Let us get one thing clear from the start: this will not be optional. It will be enforced. With that enforcement comes a responsibility that we will take very seriously, to deal with any ancillary health implications. We will establish medical clinics to address chip malfunctions, chip addictions, and anything else that takes away from the full potential of the chip technology. We, as you, are vested in a one hundred percent success rate.”

Kepling now stood with the large Dynamica logo behind him. “This will be a true partnership where both sides win,” he said. “Washington will not interfere with your entertainment division or influence what you sell to thrill seekers to fulfill their fantasies. Our interests are in tracking and logging citizens, helping them in a more balanced manner and controlling crime. We govern the people. This is a tool to support that. It’s obvious, right?”

Kepling clasped his hands together with a big sigh. “That’s it, really. We’re going to be working very hard in the coming days on all the logistics, a communication timeline, an integration plan, and once this goes public, we’ll bring a lot more folks to the table. Talented people with big ideas. The excitement level will be extraordinary. You are the most successful company on the planet. We are the strongest government in the world. Together we are creating something that will change the fabric of society. We will reach out across the United States, from coast to coast, to unite the people under our broad canvas of hope and protection. Yes, we are the sky. Every one of us. Thank you.”

* * *

After the meeting, Brandyn followed Marc into his office. He shut the door and gave Marc a stinging high-five. “This is awesome.”

“My head is swimming,” said Marc.

“We’re going to make millions when this goes public. You do know that?”

“I mean, I expect….”

“All that company stock stuffed in our bonus plan is going to explode. We’re going to have one hundred percent market penetration.”

Marc was already wealthier than he ever dreamt he would be at thirty years old. Most of his friends made far less, even the Ivy League grads. Some struggled to find work as artificial intelligence overtook large numbers of jobs – and many industries took a nosedive as more people chose to stay home and indulge in the pleasures of the chip.

“It’s crazy,” Marc said. “It’s…embarrassing.”

In the office next door, which belonged to the Chief Data Officer, Marc heard a wild shout of “Yes! Yes!” Another Dynamica leader expressing post-meeting exuberance in his office.

Marc noticed a folder had been placed on his desk. The cover had an official emblem featuring an eagle, with the words ‘United States Department of Citizen Affairs’. He looked down at the folder, almost afraid to open it. He was still absorbing the news.

Brandyn saw it and said, “We all got one. I helped coordinate some of it. It’s the game plan. Key messages. Roles and responsibilities. Dates for the rollout. This is going to move very fast.”

“Are we staffed for this?”

“No,” said Brandyn. “But we have the green light to hire, hire, hire. My team is going to double, easy.” Then he let out a laugh. “You’re going to have the easiest job on the planet – marketing a mandatory product! Your job will probably change from sales to real PR, you know, reputation management. We’re going to be a monopoly. No one else has our expertise and scale, and now we’ll have a big, fat government contract. We’re kings of the world, buddy!”

Marc thought about the pockets of public resistance to Dynamica – not everyone was enamored with the company. Some people considered it a threat to society – another example of technology ruining the relationship between the human race and the natural world.

“I can’t stand still,” Brandyn said, moving in small circles in front of Marc’s desk. “Let’s go celebrate. We’ll get out and have some fun, before we get totally consumed by this. It’s going to get crazy busy. What do you say?”

“Sure,” Marc said. He still felt shaken, and welcomed the opportunity to step out of company headquarters to let it all sink in for a while before digging into the execution phase. “I don’t think I can concentrate right now anyway.”

“We’ll go to CAPE. My treat. It’s a few blocks away, just off Seventh Avenue. You been there?”

“Never heard of it.”

“Great! You’ll love it. Let’s go.” Then he said, “You’re lucky you’re not married. Do you know how hard it’s gonna be to keep this from my wife? We’ll be able to afford the biggest penthouse suite on the East Side, the best of the best. We’ll have vacation homes, plural. She’s gonna go bonkers.”

* * *

Marc and Brandyn entered CAPE, where a sign in the front window promised ‘Come in and Soar’ with an intentionally kitschy illustration of a superhero. Once Marc stepped inside, he inwardly groaned. This was not a traditional bar, in the historic sense. It was a Chip Bar.

“Check out the menu,” Brandyn said, directing Marc’s attention to it.

A list of offerings filled the length of an entire wall behind a ‘bartender’ who assisted in programming the desired experiences for customers equipped with the chip. The offerings included every possible alcoholic drink, from expensive wines to domestic beer.

“These aren’t real drinks,” Marc said. He looked around the room, where customers sat in colored beanbag chairs, wearing eye masks, lost in the sensations they had purchased. He saw a young couple sharing an oversized red beanbag, holding hands, united by their chip selection.

“We gotta work tomorrow,” said Brandyn. “So we’ll get drunk without the side effects. No hangover. No dry mouth. We won’t even have to pee.”

Marc had experienced alcohol by chip before and felt let down. He missed holding a chilled glass with melting ice, taking measured sips at his own pace, engaging with his environment and companions. This new form of consumption, while safer, was a mostly solitary affair. In addition to the drink selections, users could pick the music genre of their choice to pipe into their heads while they enjoyed their beverage.

Brandyn studied the jukebox options alongside the drink listing. He stroked his beard. “I’m going to have a Black Russian and listen to some hip-hop. Wait, no – electronica. What’ll you have, buddy?”

Marc continued to scan the wall at the seemingly endless options. Then he saw one that caused him to do a double take.

“Cocaine?”

Brandyn laughed. “Yeah, they have that, too. Coke. Heroin. You get the kick without the health risks. It’s FDA approved. Supposedly it cuts down on real drug addiction.”

“Except now they’re addicted to the chip.”

Brandyn gave his colleague a funny look. “What, now you’re on the side of the naysayers? You can’t get physically addicted to the chip.”

“Physically, psychologically, what’s the difference?”

“Hey, this kind of attitude isn’t going to help us when the new law goes into effect. Come on, you’ll feel better after a drink. There’s gotta be something here you like.”

“I think I’m going home,” Marc said.

“What about our celebration?”

“I’ll celebrate at home.”

“Yeah, okay,” Brandyn said. “I guess it is sort of pointless to pay a premium here for what you can get at home, but this is more social, you know?”

“Is it?” said Marc, looking around the room at the zoneouts who no longer had any awareness of their surroundings – until the chipfeeds expired, like a parking meter. Security personnel were stationed around the room, arms folded and eyes roaming, to ensure that pickpockets didn’t take advantage of customers who were lost inside their imagination.

“It’s about having a shared experience,” said Brandyn. “That still counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Marc said. “See you at the office tomorrow.”

“Godspeed, brother.” Brandyn flashed a peace sign, then he and Marc knuckle-bumped a farewell.

Marc returned outside to the dirty, smelly New York City sidewalk, and it gave him a strange feeling of comfort – or was it nostalgia? Maybe the setting was ugly, but it was real. He walked a couple of blocks, remembering when the streets were more crowded, and found an outside food vendor. While their numbers had dwindled, they still existed for people who wanted an alternative option to bland Body Fuel bars.

Marc bought a slice of greasy pizza and ate it, enjoying every bite: the gooey cheese, the rubbery mushrooms, the chewy pepperoni, the stale crust. He gave the gruff, stocky vendor a big tip and encouraged him to hang in there.

Marc wiped his hands with a paper napkin and walked another two blocks. He passed a shuttered Broadway theater, once a major attraction, now just another empty building. Out front, a short man with scabs on his face had set up a small table filled with crude mobile devices. Marc recognized the gizmos right away – cheap knockoff technology that streamed unregulated, black-market chipfeeds. Essentially, these devices delivered illegal bootleg experiences of dubious quality. Sometimes they carried viruses, such as persistent ‘pop-up’ advertisements that nagged inside the user’s head for days after the initial download.

Marc stopped to look at the cheap devices. A handwritten sheet of paper taped to the table listed chipfeed choices.

“Not everything’s on the list,” said the scabby man. “I can get you underage girls. You into that? I got underage boys, too. Live the experience. Got a great deal for you.”

“No thanks,” Marc said. He continued walking. When he got to the corner, he pulled out his phone and reported the vendor to Dynamica’s Watchdog Hotline. Within fifteen minutes, the man’s operation would be shut down, and he would be jailed.

Marc advanced another block, a dark street with fewer pedestrians, advancing in the shadows until he reached his destination: The Big Be Bop.

Manhattan’s last remaining jazz club.

Inside, it was sweaty, and that was okay. It was damp and musty, and that was just fine. The music was performed by real people, from the heart, not computers programmed with common formulas to mimic popular genres, favoring familiarity over originality. On the cramped stage, the Bobby Jimminy Band created a fabulous blend of sounds with joyful improvisations and energetic spontaneity.

Marc ordered a real drink – a martini – and enjoyed the elderly musicians giving their all on the trumpet, drums, bass, saxophone and piano. The audience was small but appreciative. Not every form of stimulation had to be chip based.

Marc reflected on the day’s announcement. It had taken some time to settle on a feeling, but now he realized that deep down, he was distressed about the government partnership.

Dynamica’s success had thrilled him up to a point. He believed in his product’s benefits, but also feared its increasingly dominant presence in society. Making the chip mandatory didn’t sit well with him, no matter how much money he stood to make.

Marc sat on a hard wooden chair, enjoyed his spiky drink and soaked in the soulful sounds of live jazz. Halfway through the set, he reached back and touched the small lump on the back of his neck. He felt the company chip he had agreed to insert into his body. He received it free of cost, a lifetime subscription. An employee perk.

He wanted to rip it out.