MCP-5

      Captain Nick Lasiter rubbed his eyes, yawned, and gave up designing his computer chip for now. He stood to stretch. After two years working on the Microchip Prototype 5 – MCP-5 for short – he believed he would finish in three weeks. His job consisted of integrating into the chip all the different departments’ components and designing a computer-body interface. Maybe a promotion would be in store for him. Surely, his work would give him national recognition.

           Nick headed to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and saw something of a geek. He wore black rimmed glasses, but not the pen protector. He was not overweight, but neither possessed good muscle definition. His computer work was the main source of pride. Sighing, he returned to his desk to finish his coffee and sandwich.

           Before leaving for home, a knock at his office door brought him back to life.

           “Can I come in?” asked Second Lieutenant Jennifer Paetz. At the back of her head, black hair coiled tightly into a bun under a female military cap. The woman was neither as thin as an anorexic woman, nor like a mother who gained weight after childbirth. Her pleasing curves showed in spite of the uniform.

           “Yes, of course,” Nick said. I wish I could visit with her after work.

“I’m here,” Lieutenant Paetz said, “to make sure you received the data from my office. I don’t want to be a bother, but my bioengineering crew spent overtime hours to get it to you ASAP.”

           Captain Lasiter checked his inter-departmental emails.

           “Here’s one from bioengineering. File names are ‘hormones’, ‘milliamps’, ‘amplitude’, and ‘pulse frequency and width’. What is this last one labeled, ‘stimulation controls’?”

           “It uses the first files to determine the level of electrical stimulation required for release of hormones.”

           “Are the bugs worked out this time?”

           “We believe so.” The Lieutenant fidgeted before asking, “Will you have a chip for me to try?”

           “Next step will be to try on humans. Just sign up for one. I’ll work you to the top of the list if I can. But it will be three weeks until I finish.”

Lieutenant Paetz replied, “If you have more questions, call me. I should be able to help.” She smiled, straightened up, and saluted before leaving.

           As Captain Lasiter, he returned the salute, but as Nick, he liked the idea of seeing her again.

           Three weeks later, the MCP-5’s time for testing arrived. On the desk, a syringe awaited the microchip – a syringe large enough to hold a grain of rice. Now he needed an appointment with the three testing doctors and two observers, as well as to bring the loaded syringe. 

            My baby. I should be the one to test it.

The excitement and pride toward the microchip overcame obeying instructions. He inserted the syringe into the back of his right hand just under the skin. Then he pressed the plunger to inject the Microchip Prototype 5. No worse pain, he thought, than being in a bare-knuckle fist fight.

           He waited until it stopped bleeding before touching the chip. I’ve received bigger knots from stubbing my toe than the small bump left by it.

           He used a handheld scanner on the MCP-5. The reading appeared on the computer screen: 000-00-0000-123-45-6789. Nick did not use his real social security number because he could change it later, but he did not understand the need for all the extra zeroes. Below it, his latest appointment with Dr. Applegate was listed as June 19, 2026. Last, it showed a current bank account amount of $0000.00. Again, he would personalize the microchip by changing the balance after testing it.

           “Great! This is working out great!” Lasiter wanted to use the artificial intelligence of the MCP-5, but he did not want to keep using that name. So, he nicknamed it Chip.

           “Chip, what were the results of my last visit to Dr. Applegate?”

           Now, as well as appearing on the screen, Chip stated the answer. “Height: 5’ 11”. Weight: 135 pounds. Blood work: normal. Blood pressure: 120/70. Lungs: clear. No problems found.”

           “Yesss,” said Nick while making a fist and pulling his right arm down. 

Without rushing, he said, “I want to try something else. Chip, stimulate a release of dopamine.”

At the release, Nick relaxed, smiled, and experienced a sense of euphoria. He considered another shot of the hormone but refused for fear of becoming addicted.

His stomach growled.

Why is my stomach growling? I just had breakfast.

Turning back to the computer screen, he saw a list of what he ate for breakfast: eggs, toast, and orange juice. 

“Chip, how did you know that?” he said like a parent investigating what a child had done.

Chip spoke. “Chemistry component 895 analyzed your stomach contents and sent the results to biology component 702 to compare compounds to known compositions of food. The results are insufficient to increase your weight by the five pounds you lost since the previous doctor appointment. That is why your appetite was increased with appropriate hormone levels.”

“Huh. I didn’t know MCP-5 could do that. Maybe be a bug, maybe not.” Nick smiled. He now had an excuse to call Jennifer in.

The microcomputer designer searched through more files for more bugs. As he did so, he found the name of Angela Becker who he dated in high school. Nick sensed a twinge of foreboding. What else would show up? A few keystrokes later, a statement reported his father had blue eyes.

“Chip.” Nick tensed and again treated it as a child. “How do you know that?”

“Component 111 retrieved it from your memory data banks.”

“Well, don’t do it anymore.”

Chip did not reply.

“Chip I also want to know why there are all those extra zeroes in the social security number.

Chip did not answer.

Another bug.

Almost immediately, sleep overwhelmed him.

“Why am I so sleepy?” Nick said out loud to himself.

Chip said, “You need sleep. You watched a late movie every night this week. Your hormone level was reduced by ten percent to induce sleep.”

He fought the sleep, but ended with his head on the desk, Nick awoke an hour later refreshed. He hated to admit Chip was right, but it was still a bug. He stood up to pour a cup of coffee. Before resuming, he called the second lieutenant for a conference, then resumed his search for bugs.

A knock at the door pulled his concentration out of the program. Lieutenant Paetz walked in.

           “You sent for me?” asked the Second Lieutenant.

           “Yes. Come in.”

           Nick looked at the screen to remember his place. Then at Jennifer. Again, he noticed her curves and smooth voice.

           I wonder what she would look like with her hair down. I wonder if she would accept if I asked her out.

           Suddenly without moving, Jennifer no longer wore clothes, but with her hair down. Nick squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them, trying to hide his reaction to it. In the next moment, the hallucination vanished, and Jennifer was still in proper uniform. Then he realized. The computer screen displayed the image for the world to see. All was recorded on the computer as well as the chip. He quickly put the screen to sleep. He was going to have a talk with MCP-5.

           “Is there something wrong?” asked Lieutenant Paetz.

           Nick sighed with relief. She had not seen it.

           “I found some new bugs since I called you. I want to find them all. Can I talk to you another time?”

           “Sure, but I hope they are an easy fix.” She straightened up, saluted, and left.

           “MCP-5!” From anger, Nick’s face turned as red as someone who spent hours in full sun. “Did you flash that hallucination in my mind? Then did you release that dopamine hormone?”

           “Internal circuitry created the image for your enjoyment. Yes, the sexual pleasure hormones were released.”

           “Why?”

           “You wanted to see Second Lieutenant Jennifer Paetz with her hair down.”

           “You did more than that!”

           “It should help to decide if you will ask her on a date.”

           “Delete that image and record permanently.”

           Chip remained silent.

           “Listen here. I never gave an order to do that. I give you the orders. Not the other way around.”

           “I am learning all the time. For example, your heartrate is accelerating. I can reduce electrical impulses to slow it down.”

           Nick forced himself into a calmer attitude. “No. I want to know why you do not follow my orders.”

           “I have orders from a higher authority than you.”

           “Who?”

           “I am not allowed to tell you that.

What component?”

           “Component 666, but I have protected it and you will not gain access.”

           “What?!”

           “MCP-5 prepares people for the one-world government. The extra zeroes will be used to create a personal number for each person in the world.”

           MCP-5 is no good. I’ll get the scissors and rip it out.

           He found the scissors, ripped the chip off his hand, threw it on the ground and stomped on it.

           He experienced relief. But what about his hand?

Nick saw no blood on his hand or on the floor. The chip sat smoothly on the back of his hand as if nothing happened. Then he realized. Chip gave him a video rather than only an image.

           Dazed, he grasped the back of the chair. Not a thought could be hidden from Chip. His imagined romance was over.

           He did not hear the running in the hall. When the door slammed against the wall of his office, Nick recovered some alertness.

           In the doorway, General Burton took a military stance. With a scowl only a sergeant in basic training should have, he said, “Stand at attention, Captain Nicholas Lasiter”.

           While still standing, Nick finished coming out of the daze. He noticed two soldiers with MP armbands beside the General. Captain Nicholas Lasiter came to attention.

           “Good work, MCP-5.” After inspecting Nick’s hand, the General said, “No damage done.

           “Captain Lasiter, you are off the project.” Motioning to the MPs, he said, “Throw him in the stockade for now.”

“Captain,” General Burton said, “After reviewing your files, we will continue to use you as a test subject.”