Day 16: Moral Compass

Dedicated to: Nicola Garbutt

Ashleigh picked up the letter and re-read it, for what had to be the twentieth time that morning. 

Greenford West Preschool and Early Childhood Centre

15-17 Station Road

Greenford

Greater London

20.04.2038

Dear Parent(s)/Guardian(s),

We are writing to inform you that on Friday 27 April, one week from today, all children born between 1 September 2033 and 31 August 2034 will be having their chips fitted. The fittings will start at 10am, with children being seen in alphabetical order by their surname. 

The devices will be fitted by registered nurses, who specialise in microchipping, and there will be a G.P. on site, although we do not anticipate any complications arising. 

We understand that this procedure can cause some anxiety in parents. It is three years now, since the age of chipping was lowered, and in this time we have never witnessed any adverse effects on children in our care. In fact, most parents report that their children become calmer, better behaved and easier to manage within a fortnight.

Most parents/guardians wish to accompany their children to the chipping and we encourage this. Although the insertion is painless, it can take children time to adjust to its effects. A light morning tea will be provided for those wishing to stay and support their little ones. 

Attached is a consent form, which guardians must sign and bring with them to the fitting. Failure to do so will result in your child not being able to have his or her chip fitted, and we will be left with no choice but to pass their names on to the local authority. 

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to get in contact with me, or speak to one of the other staff. 

Warm wishes,

T.M.Frankston

Ms. Theresa. M. Frankston

Headteacher

She crumpled the letter in anger. Would it be so bad for Poppy to not be chipped and be on some watch-list? She herself had managed to stay on the straight and narrow perfectly fine without being chipped. Then again, Poppy was only three – perhaps it would be better to grow up with it, and not remember her life before. In refusing it now, Ashleigh would only be delaying the inevitable.  There wasn’t really any choice. Today was the 27^th. It was just four hours before everything changed.

Ashleigh sat down, as the pain spreading throughout her muscles started to burn and prickle. Thinking about Poppy in this way always had this effect. She reached for her handbag and found the secret pocket at the bottom, the one where she kept paracetamol. Five tablets left. She’d have to text Jonah and see if he could get her some more.

Poppy appeared in the kitchen, still in her pyjamas with Boxy the Bunny under one arm and one of Ashleigh’s shoes under the other.

‘Hello Mummy!’ she said brightly. Then, noticing Ashleigh’s posture, ‘Mummy, you’re sore!’

‘Good morning my love! Come here.’

Ashleigh pulled Poppy onto her lap and kissed the top of her head. 

‘Did you sleep well, baby?’

‘Yes… Boxy didn’t. He’s sore.’

‘Oh no, does he need some medicine?’

‘Yes, he was naughty and now he’s sore.’

Ashleigh’s painful guilt was replaced by shock.

‘How do you know about that?’

Poppy looked puzzled.

‘Who told you being naughty makes you sore?’

Poppy didn’t answer, just looked worried. Pain seared in Ashleigh’s temples but she forced herself to look steadily at her daughter. 

‘What’s matter Mummy?’

‘Nothing darling, nothing. You’re Mummy’s sweet, good girl.’

Poppy nuzzled her head into Ashleigh’s chest. She sucked her thumb and fiddled with Boxy’s ear. Ashleigh drew her arms tighter around her, wishing she could stay like this forever.

‘It’s not my fault’ Ashleigh repeated to herself over and over as she cleared away the breakfast plates, in an attempt to make the pain go down. She remembered when the chips were introduced, twelve years ago. She had been seventeen, just months too young to have voted either way about it, and she wasn’t sure which way she’d have voted if she could. The campaign for chipping had touted the new technology as ‘a moral compass for everybody’ and one that would ‘reduce pressure on law enforcement’ and ‘limit the need for constant surveillance.’ She remembers that had appealed to her, but she wishes the science behind it had been better explained. It wasn’t until the chipping had started that the information was released, in the form of tiny, wallet-sized leaflets issued to each person on their day of chipping.

Ashleigh now knew that leaflet off by heart. 

‘This technology, originally developed at the University of Pennsylvania in 2018 and perfected over a number of years, works by detecting the chemicals in the brain commonly associated with acts of rebellion and immorality. When these chemicals are detected, the chip sends signals to the brain’s pain receptors. The result of this discomfort [Ha! Thought Ashleigh, having her wisdom teeth out had caused discomfort, the levels of pain she experienced on a daily basis were more akin to the final stages of childbirth] is that the person will self-regulate their behaviour, choosing not to commit immoral and illegal acts in order not to experience further pain. For most people, therefore, the chip will have little to no impact on their lives…’

‘Little to no impact’? Those words stung Ashleigh every time she thought of them. She had been a good kid, a really good kid. Looking back, she’d been too good. Other than underage drinking at parties (and even then, she’d always been the most sensible) and one detention for being caught trying to complete her geography homework during the lesson in which it was due, she’d never put a foot out of line. The youngest of four, she was always conscientious, afraid of authority and naturally prone to guilt and self-doubt.

She’d done her research, even paying for consultation with an overseas doctor in a country where chips were not used. The conclusion was that her natural tendency towards guilt and, what some referred to as, moral scrupulosity, sent signals to the chip which were misinterpreted as thoughts of wrongdoing.

‘It’s very bad technology’ the doctor had said. ‘Never in this country will we have it. It punishes the good people the most.’

It was true. Since the age of eighteen when her chip was inserted, Ashleigh hadn’t gone a single day without experiencing headaches, joint pain, muscle cramps and burning, stinging sensations in her limbs. How could she put Poppy through that? Since having her, the pain was almost constant. Ben would have liked another child but Ashleigh was torn – what would be worse? The pain of having another child to worry about, feel guilty over and inevitably have chipped? Or the pain of denying Poppy a sibling she’d love and Ben the second child he craved? Ben was so lovely and supportive, but he didn’t understand. Sure, he didn’t like the chip. He took painkillers acquired on the black market like everyone else from time to time. Although mostly he took them for actual small acts of wrongdoing – forgetting his mother’s birthday, breaking the speed limit, being short with someone at work. His brain wasn’t like Ashleigh’s. Maybe Poppy’s wasn’t either. It was too early to tell. Maybe she’d cope, like Ben and lots of other people.

It was time to leave. Poppy was playing happily in the corner with Boxy and her other toys, chattering away to them all as she acted out some little scene. She was the sunniest, kindest little girl. Would Ashleigh be bringing home a different child later? The pain of this thought made her eyes water. 

‘Poppy darling, it’s time for preschool.’

Ashleigh drove carefully, as always, with Poppy in the backseat singing to herself. They were running a bit late, but she didn’t speed, nor did she feel especially bad about it. Poppy Thompson was near the end of the alphabet. They’d only be sat waiting. The three paracetamol she’d taken were going some way to helping with the pain.

She pulled up outside the preschool and sat looking out of the window. They had erected two small marquees in the playground, presumably where the nurses were working. There were chairs where parents sat, some with their children on their laps, others watching as their children played. Ms. Kugblenu and Ms. Oliver were walking along the rows of parents with clipboards. Ashleigh’s bowel did a somersault. She looked back at Poppy, who was already trying to undo her seatbelt and straining to get out. She loved preschool. 

‘Come on Mummy, let’s go!’ 

There weren’t any seats left, so Ashleigh stood near the refreshment table with some of the other parents. Poppy stood between her legs, eyeing up the biscuits. 

‘It’s OK darling, you can have one.’

Poppy grinned and grabbed a custard cream. Ms. Oliver came over.

‘Oh, those refreshments are for the adults.’

Something about her tone sent an uncharacteristic wave of anger and annoyance over Ashleigh. She looked steadily at her.

‘I’m not hungry, so she can have mine.’

Ms. Oliver looked like she was thinking of saying something, but then decided against it. Poppy had almost finished the biscuit anyway.

‘Consent form?’

‘Pardon?’

‘I need your consent form, for Poppy’s chip.’

‘Oh right, sorry, I’m not quite with it today.’

Ms. Oliver put a rough hand on Ashleigh's arm and tried to sound comforting.

‘It really doesn’t hurt when they put it in. And a good girl like Poppy, she won’t suffer at all once she’s used to it.’

I WAS A GOOD GIRL, Ashleigh wanted to scream, but she couldn't. 

‘They really do become so much easier. I wasn’t sure either when they lowered the age to three, but honestly, working in a preschool, now I wish they’d done it sooner!’ She laughed awkwardly. 

Ashleigh was no longer listening. She was watching Dylan Cooper emerge from the tent nearest to them, holding his dad’s hand. He looked fine.

‘Any tears?’ asked a parent Ashleigh didn’t know.

‘No, he was alright, weren’t you mate?’

Dylan smiled up at his dad. Maybe it was OK after all. Just then, Ms. Kugblenu walked over to them both and knelt down. 

‘She’s just checking it works’ Ms. Oliver whispered.

‘Now Dylan,’ said Ms. Kugblenu, ‘you were a very brave good boy weren’t you?’

Dylan nodded proudly. 

‘Now, you can have a yummy chocolate button, but only one from that yellow table over there. Remember, only one Dylan.’ She pointed towards a small table at the end of the adults table. 

Dylan walked to the table and reached out. He picked up a button from one of the plates and chewed it quickly, a smile on his little face. Then, still at the table he looked behind him. Ms. Kugblenu was looking very intently down at something on the ground. He paused for a few seconds and then went rigid and wide eyed in shock. 

‘Daddy!’

His dad ran over, but Dylan was already in tears. His face was red and his breathing quick from panic.

‘I…. I…. I…. HURTED!’ he managed at last. 

‘It’s alright son, Daddy’s here.’

Ashleigh detected a flicker of pain on his face, as he picked Dylan up and stroked his head gently.

‘It’s OK, it will stop soon.’

Ashleigh turned in horror to Ms. Oliver.

‘How could she?’

‘We have to, we just test a couple, so we can fill in a report and say they’re working… we don’t do that to all of them.’ She touched Ashleigh’s arm again. Ashleigh was too shocked to pull it away.

‘They really do get used to it quickly. The first couple of weeks are hell for us all, but after that they’re much calmer, they’re different children… he will be OK, look he’s calming down already. It was just the shock, it won’t still be hurting.’

‘I don’t want Poppy to be different. I like her as she is.’

Ms. Oliver raised her eyebrows. 

‘You realise what you’re saying Ms. Thompson.’

Ashleigh was silent. She looked at Poppy who was now peering up at them curiously. 

‘Ms. Thompson, I know this is hard for you. But I need your consent form.’

‘I think I left it in the car.’

‘OK well, if you could just go and grab it for us, we’ll watch Poppy.’

‘Right.’ 

Ashleigh started walking.

‘Mummy, where are you going?’

‘To the car sweetie. You can come too if you want.’

Poppy followed and Ashleigh took her hand.

‘I love you darling Poppy.’

‘I love you too Mummy.’ 

They walked past two mothers talking to each other as they watched their children play. One of them knelt down to snap a picture of her son.

‘Sending this to my ex. That’ll hurt!’

They both laughed. 

Ashleigh and Poppy kept walking. 

‘Are we going home Mummy?’

‘No, Mummy just has to find something.’

They reached the car. Ashleigh opened the front door and started rummaging around the glove box.

‘Stay on the pavement darling.’

‘I want my chocolate button.’

Ashleigh found the consent form and stared at it for a few seconds before turning around. 

‘What about a whole bag of chocolate buttons?’

‘For me?’

‘Yes, what about you get in the car and we go away and mummy gets you lots of chocolate buttons?’

‘Have I been a good girl?’

‘You are always Mummy’s good girl.’

Poppy grinned.

Ashleigh strapped Poppy into her car-seat and glanced over her shoulder at the preschool. Nobody was watching them. She climbed into the drivers seat, put on her seatbelt and started the ignition. 

‘Where are we going Mummy?’

‘I don’t know darling.’

‘But I can have chocolate buttons?’

‘You can have chocolate buttons.’

Then, ignoring the pain mounting in her body, Ashleigh put her foot down and sped away.  

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