In the outskirts of New Miami in the industrial district stood BioLab Industries. The sister corporation to BioMed that handled manufacturing of technology and machinery used by the medical science giant. While BioMed handled research development, experimentation and studies; BioLab strictly served to manufacture and create all the instruments and devices used within its sister company. The head of manufacturing was a man named Oscar Jansen. Beneath the CEO who would approve or deny new ideas or proposals, Oscar was in charge of the entire facility itself.
While the employees were hard at work running machines and crafting products, Oscar scanned the blueprints for Project Soul Cage carefully. Something in his gut didn’t stir right with this project.
“Shimada really approved this?” He muttered to himself.
Oscar took a sip of his coffee. He decided to take his coffee and take a trip to the third floor where the CEO’s office was. Knocking on the door, a light above the door handle flashed green. He was clear to enter. An older woman with blue eyes and a beauty mark on her left cheek wearing a gray dress suit with black hair done up in a bun sat behind the desk, typing away on her computer. Emily Peterson: CEO of BioLab Industries.
“Miss Peterson? Can I speak with you in private?” Oscar asked.
The woman looked up with a stern gaze. She took a puff from her nicotine vape and nodded.
“You may. Sit. Please.”
Oscar anxiously sat his rump down in one of the chairs facing the desk. He took a deep breath, holding onto the tablet containing the blueprints for the project.
“Ma’am I… I’m just curious about this latest project. Soul Cage, is it?”
“Mm. What about it?”
“Is this really something we should be doing? We’re talking about storing the consciousness of people into a machine and transferring them into… Into new bodies. The idea alone sounds insane.”
Emily remained silent. Her gaze like daggers piercing through Oscar’s mind. She tapped on the desk. Her long black nails making small ticks against the metal.
“Insane? Honey listen to me okay? Director Shimada clearly would not have approved of this project if he found it ridiculous and unrealistic. The technological wonder of this Soul Cage construct should be obvious.”
“W-well yeah but-“
“We’re on a breakthrough of cutting-edge technology here. Medical science has come a long way since the days of IV drip machines and heart rate monitors entering society. Imagine what this could do for the future of humanity. Death is such a common occurrence these days. If you ask me, it was about time we found a way to secure digital souls lost in the real world and give them a second chance at life. Because as we all know… Life is unfair.”
Oscar looked down at his hands for a moment. He then looked back up at her.
“Is that why we’re chipped? Was this planned out in advance ages ago? Would the government really fund a project intent on playing God and defying mortality?”
“Those are all questions to ask mister Shimada. Not me, dear. Better yet, why not take a flight to Washington and go ask the president himself?”
Emily chuckled, a hint of sass in her delivery. Oscar raised an eyebrow.
“Alright. Very funny ma’am.” He replied.
“Honey, I’m just humoring you. Besides why are you doubting the possibilities of Soul Cage anyway? It’s not like you to question projects approved by BioMed themselves.”
“I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being skeptical.”
“Well stop. You’re overseeing production of the construct so get back to it.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Oscar got up to leave with his head held low. Before he stepped out of the office, Emily spoke up right when his hand touched the doorknob;
“Maybe consider signing up your wife for the project. After all, her time is… Running out. Just something to think about.”
Oscar gritted his teeth. He slammed the door shut on his way out. Emily smirked, taking another puff of her vaporizer to enjoy the nicotine rush straight into her brain.
2028. Seven years ago. Senji Shimada has been running BioMed for eleven years now since his father, Heisen Shimada stepped down. On a brisk spring day in March, Shimada would receive a surprise visit from an old friend of his. Overseeing employee records, a set of knocks rapped against the office door.
“You may enter.” He spoke loudly.
The door opened up. A woman in a sleek black dress suit and high heels entered. She had long auburn hair done up in a ponytail and black-rimmed glasses. Her hazel eyes accented by black eyeliner and ruby red lipstick. She was a gorgeous, elegant woman. Shimada’s eyes lit up at her appearance.
“My my. It has certainly been a while hasn’t it, Melissa?” He said with a smile.
“Indeed. It’s good to see you.” The woman replied.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The two shook hands. Shimada motioned to join him elsewhere. She followed him with a nod. He poured a glass of wine for each of them before going and sitting down on the office couch facing the large window overlooking the New Miami skyline.
“How goes the campaign trail you’re blazing?” Shimada asked taking a sip of wine.
“It’s going well so far. The public frankly is tired of senile old men in office. So far, I’ve been a hit with both the young and old demographics. Only a matter of time before the voting comes to an end.” Melissa replied.
“That’s good to hear. Glad to see they’re finally demanding a change in… Politics.”
“Indeed. No offense Shimada but I didn’t stop by to idly chat away. Let’s save that for another time. I have a busy schedule so my free time is limited.”
“Of course. I assume you have something to discuss with me?”
“I do. A proposal if you will…”
Melissa sipped her wine then set the glass down on the coffee table in front of them. He was focused intently on her. An eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face, he was listening closely. She pulled a tablet out of her suit jacket pocket and handed it to him. She cupped her hands together and gazed into his eyes. He took it and started to look through its contents.
“I have a plan for the future. Micro-chipping. Should I make it into office, I want to start a nationwide program available to everyone and anyone. Who can afford it of course. Implanting microchips into people’s brains. A simple and painless process with the technology we have these days. Why, you may ask? Just look at my campaign slogan.” Melissa explained.
“Ah. ‘Securing Your Future!’ You mean?”
“The plan is to design the chips as ‘memory banks’ for those squishy sponges in our skulls. Think about this... What if death wasn’t the end? What if those who pass away could live on in our lives? We all have a grandparent or relative who’s died in one way or another. Hate to break it to the gullible but your dead great-grandmother isn’t a spirit occasionally visiting your home. Paranormal phenomenon is nothing but mind tricks. When someone dies, they’re just gone. To where? Who knows. I think… We can potentially cheat death.”
“I’m listening.”
“That Hensley fellow working for you. He’s one of the most brilliant minds I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. And he’s definitely onto something with his research. You were on vacation when I last stopped by this place. Your second-in-command showed me around and introduced me to him.”
“You mean his project? Soul Cage. So, you know of it.”
“I do. That mind of his is cooking up something truly revolutionary. Creating a digital consciousness to live on in. So, I was thinking… We start chipping people. Setting them up for this project of his. It’s very possible he could be in the midst of a breakthrough of medical science. The rich and upper class will definitely be on board. Then like sheep… The rest of the herd will follow along. Middle-class workers with families. Lower class even. Imagine it.”
“I too believe his research will reach a breakthrough in due time. But your plan seems… Morally questionable at best. Downright insidious at worst. You’d be asking the general public for allowing the government to implant microchips into their brains. I can say for certain it wouldn’t be an easy task.”
“Now now. I’ll play my morality card here and say that it won’t be mandatory of course. Last thing I’d want is for the religious fanatics and conspiracy nuts to spread “mark of the beast” articles all over the internet. But they will regardless.”
“I see. Even though Soul Cage is merely in concept form and not even fully developed nor researched? You don’t have any doubts about Hensley’s work? Hypothetically speaking what if Hensley’s research hits a dead end? Then all those people will be chipped but for what purpose?”
“If Hensley doesn’t make it… Eventually some brilliant mind will. Even if they have to pry his material off his old rotting corpse in half a century or later and develop it themselves.”
“You make a valid point. Very interesting discussion this is. Anything else you’d like to add regarding this manner?”
Melissa reached out to grab her wine. She leaned back into the couch and sipped. A single drop of the wine fell from her crimson lips.
“If I become president… I will personally fund Hensley’s research. I know your corporation isn’t lacking in funding at all. But I’m confident in his work and determined to make sure it succeeds no matter what. Allow him to acquire any books or documents necessary to his research. Let him take breaks so his mind doesn’t blow a fuse from overworking. I’ll see to it Hensley gets the funding. I only ask, that you ensure everyone you know and working under you supports me.”
Shimada was surprised at what he was hearing. Melissa’s tone really expressed her true feelings towards Project Soul Cage in its early stages. He nodded and offered a hand. She accepted and shook it.
“Deal. Miss Bailey… Sorry. Melissa. Good luck in the race.” Shimada replied.
“Thank you. Tell Hensley I stopped by and that I wish him prosperous luck in his research.”
“I certainly will.”
2033. Three years ago. Sixty-three percent of the United States population has been micro-chipped since Melissa Bailey took office in 2028. Ever since then, daily life for those chipped had changed. New policies had been changed in the line of work for morticians around the country who were trained to remove chips from bodies. When a chipped individual dies, their micro-chipped is extracted from the brain and stored into a sealed container. Families or close friends of those who’ve passed away are either offered the microchips to keep or safely stored away. Those who are on the wealthier side of society have even gone so far as to purchase lifelike androids or robots to transfer the microchips into with varying success to carry on the deceased individual’s legacy. This has sparked controversy all across the nation, being deemed ‘inhumane’ and ‘disrespectful’ by most people. Due to the limitations of androids and robots, the stored consciousness of the microchips is wiped to avoid any unnecessary complications such as existential dread or body awareness. The metal husks merely serve as empty vessels, even being modified to speak like the original microchips’ owner. A rarity amongst the public, it’s not the same as having the person there. The popular term for these androids and robots spread across society is ‘Digital Zombification.’ Melissa has refused to speak on the matter since it entered the public eye.
“W-wait a minute! So, you’re telling me that… BioMed is developing a cloning lab within their own facility?!” The young blonde female reporter asked.
“Correct.” Melissa responded coldly.
“Melissa, it seems that you’re putting all your eggs into one basket here with this Hensley guy. Why else would-“
“Hush, child. There had been talks within the government about developing clones for quite some time now. We just finally managed to catch up with the necessary technology to produce such specimens. Perfect replicants made entirely from flesh and bone. Excluding Soul Cage, these clones will have their own purpose outside of the project. Science is truly fascinating wouldn’t you say?”
“I… I guess so. Damn. It’s all happening so fast.”
“Mm. Well, you got your intel. You may leave now. I cannot disclose more then that. The rest is confidential.”
“Even to me??”
“Yes. Even to you.”
The reporter firmly nodded. Without another word, she stood up and left the oval office. Melissa typed out a message on her personal laptop then sent it through as an email. She cracked her knuckles and leaned back in her chair, kicking her legs up onto the desk.