The Charity Chip

by Brock Booher

  The small reception was furnished with two leather chairs and a glass coffee table. A few simple paintings hung on the walls. To Julio it felt cold and sterile. The soft leather creaked a bit as he sat down and waited for Isak.

  After a few moments, Isak Blixt entered the reception from a side door. Just like the other night, he was impeccably dressed in a black short-sleeve shirt that exposed his muscular physique and khaki pants with pockets on the sides. It wasn’t a uniform, but the crisp look of the cloth and Isak’s short hair gave Julio the impression of a soldier. Doctor Barilla stood when Isak entered the room and Julio followed suit.

  “Julio, it’s good to see that you truly are a man of your word,” said Isak. His Spanish had an educated and polished cadence, with only an echo of an accent. He paused and put his hands in his pockets. “But who is your friend?”

  Julio swallowed hard. “May I present Señor Barilla. He is my landlord, of sorts, and I asked him to come along because . . . well . . .” He glanced up at Doctor Barilla.

  Doctor Barilla stepped forward and said, “He brought me along because I am the closest thing to family that he has, and because I am a doctor. He thought I might be able to help evaluate this opportunity.”

  Isak’s blue-eyed stare rested on Doctor Barilla for an awkward moment. The doctor ended the standoff by extending his hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Señor Blixt. Your Spanish is impeccable, much better than any other foreigner I have met.” Isak gave a grateful nod. “I read about your organization online. My compliments on your facility and your success.”

  Isak shook Doctor Barilla’s hand and feigned a smile. “Thank you. As I’m sure you read online, Caritas is a pilot program, but it is making noticeable progress.” He finished the handshake and returned his hands to his pockets.

  Julio swallowed his nervousness. He thought for a moment that Isak was going to turn them away, but Doctor Barilla winked at Julio and poured on the charm. “Giving the money straight to the children in need is such a brilliant idea. How did you come up with it?”

  Isak’s smile became smug. “I worked for the United Nations in several campaigns. The inefficiency of their operation always bothered me. I merely combined my technological expertise from the Royal Institute of Technology and my desire to help those in need. With the latest money chip capabilities, the solution was quite simple really.”

  “Fascinating! Pure genius!” gushed Doctor Barilla. Knowing how Doctor Barilla felt about foreigners, Julio was surprised at how cordial and complimentary he could behave with Isak. He never knew the doctor capable of such flattery.

  “Well, I’m sure you’re a very busy man,” said Doctor Barilla with a wave of his hand. “I just wanted to make sure Julio got here safely.” Doctor Barilla began to turn for the door.

  “Perhaps you would like to see the facility before you go?” asked Isak.

  “It would be a pleasure to see such an avant-garde program,” swooned Doctor Barilla. “Can you spare a few minutes to indulge an old doctor?”

  “I have to explain the program to Julio anyway. You are welcome to join us.”

  Julio was amazed at Isak’s transformation, and even more surprised at Doctor Barilla’s cleverness. Seeing that the opportunity had not been lost, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Isak turned to the receptionist. “Isabela, when is my next appointment?”

  She put down her magazine and glanced at her computer screen. “You don’t have anything until after lunch, Señor Blixt.”

  “Good, then I have time to get Julio started,” said Isak as he motioned for the front door. “Right this way, gentlemen.” Doctor Barilla followed Isak out the front door, and Julio shoved his skateboard into his backpack and fell in behind them. Isak exited the front door and took them to the second exterior glass door at the other end of the building. Just like the girl Julio had watched earlier, Isak held his hand up to the scanner to unlock the door before ushering them into the facility.

  The first thing Julio noticed was the smell of lunch cooking. It wasn’t a strong, overpowering smell, but the smell of boiled potatoes and chicken lingered in the small foyer lined with jacket hooks and small lockers. His mouth watered.

  “Participants in our program gain access to the facility through that door,” said Isak. “As you no doubt noticed, access is granted by an embedded chip.” Isak held up his left hand and ran his finger along the space between his thumb and forefinger. “This area of the hand has just enough room to house the chip I designed for the program. It allows the participants access to the Caritas facility and also serves as an individualized money chip. As you probably read in the news article, it has been affectionately dubbed the charity chip.”

  Doctor Barilla slipped on his glasses and leaned forward to examine Isak’s left hand. “Interesting use of the thenar space. Are you concerned about the risks of damaging tendons when you insert the chip?”

  Julio shuddered involuntarily and rubbed the webbing of skin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand.

  Isak held his hand closer for Doctor Barilla to examine. “As you can see, the insertion did not leave a scar. Implanting the chip is a simple and safe process with very little risk.” Isak drew back his hand. “Removing the chip can be a riskier endeavor.” He held out his left hand and extended his thumb. “One must be careful not to cut the flexor tendon.”

  “How often do you have to remove the chip?” asked Doctor Barilla.

  Isak continued forward through the foyer door and into the facility. “So far, chip reliability has been one hundred percent. We haven’t had the need to remove any.”

  Julio followed Isak and Doctor Barilla through the foyer door and into a large open room. To the right was a small eating area with round tables. The moist smell of chicken and boiled potatoes grew stronger, and Julio could see someone working through the open kitchen door. His stomach growled. To the left was a large room with big silver computers perched on desks against the walls and a sitting area with games in the center. Several young men and women around his age sat at the computers with small black headphones on. Two teenage boys played a game of chess in the sitting area. The young woman he had seen enter from the street sat at the computer in the corner.

  “This is our study area,” said Isak with a sweep of his hand. “We have found that many of the children we enroll are lacking in basic academic skills. We provide them with computer-based instruction to prepare them for a productive future.” Julio’s eyes lit up as he thought about his dream of becoming a doctor.

  Doctor Barilla nodded approvingly and pointed at the eating area. “If the chip allows them to purchase food, why do you have a cafeteria?”

  “Participants in Caritas are able to make individual purchases at markets, not restaurants. We provide a prepared meal five days a week as incentive to bring them to our facility for schooling. It saves our program money, promotes schooling, and gives the children hot meals. A win for everyone.”

  As they passed through the study area, the two boys playing chess looked up and smiled. Isak stopped behind a young woman wearing oversized yellow and black headphones over her ears seated at a computer. “Graciela was our first enrollee. I saved her from the sex trade and incarceration when she was fourteen.” He tapped her on the shoulder.

  When Graciela looked up and saw Isak, she stopped her lesson, slipped the headphones down around her neck, and stood up. She was an attractive young woman with a full figure, slightly taller than Julio and a few years older. Her black hair was pulled back, exposing her round face and dark eyes that darted from side to side. Unlike any of the other children in the room she had on jewelry—silver earrings and a silver ring on her right hand. She smiled without showing her teeth.

  Isak put a hand on her shoulder. “Graciela, this is Julio. He is being considered for Caritas.”

  “Mucho gusto,” said Graciela with a nod.

  “Nice to meet you too,” responded Julio. The exchange felt awkward with Isak and Doc
tor Barilla looking on.

  “How long have you been with us, Graciela?” asked Isak with his hand still on her shoulder.

  She folded her hands in front of her. “Three years.”

  “Have you been satisfied with the program?” asked Isak.

  She glanced up at Julio and Doctor Barilla. “Yes, it completely changed my life.”

  “Do you have any idea how many children like Graciela there are in the world?” asked Isak. “Millions! And governments throw money at the problem by the billions, but it never seems to help. Too much of the money gets siphoned off by corruption or lost in inefficiency.” He reached down and grabbed her left hand. “Because of modern technology embedded in her hand, the money can flow directly to her, eliminating the middle man.” He chuckled. “She literally has the power to succeed in her hand.”

  “Do you also provide housing for the participants?” asked Doctor Barilla.

  Isak frowned and shook his head. “No, that would undermine our goal of helping them achieve independence. Besides, the government programs are available for that. We allow more freedom to our enrollees.” Isak pointed at two bathrooms situated toward the back of the room. “However, we do provide complete shower facilities for proper hygiene and encourage their use.”

  “How do you keep them from abusing the funds you provide?

  Isak gave a puzzled look. “Have you been chipped, Doctor?”

  “No, I never saw the need.”

  “Ah, I see. Modern money chips can be programmed with various protocols. For example, you can program a chip to cap daily spending, limit spending to a specific geographic location, or shut off the funds completely, all with a few clicks of a mouse. Caritas has established protocols that only allow participants to purchase approved items and that place spending limits on the funds.”

  “Amazing,” said Doctor Barilla. “The marvel of modern technology never ceases.”

  Isak released Graciela’s hand and patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you, Graciela. We will let you get back to your lessons.” He ushered Doctor Barilla toward the back of the room. “We also have an in-house clinic for handling any health issues. All potential candidates are required to pass a physical exam before acceptance, and they sign a contract stating that they will avoid the use of drugs, alcohol, and tobacco. Once accepted to the program, they are examined regularly.”

  Doctor Barilla chewed at the stem of his glasses. “It seems to be a very unusual charity. You require a physical exam and a contract. You don’t make it available to everyone. Pardon me for saying so, but it seems as if you only want to help a select few. Isn’t every life worth saving?”

  Isak stopped in front of a waiting area with posters promoting cleanliness and hygiene on the walls. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and looked down at Doctor Barilla. “Tell me, Doctor, have you ever worked in an emergency room?”

  Doctor Barilla fumbled with his glasses. “Yes.”

  “Then you are familiar with the practice of triage?”

  “Of course.”

  “We are simply applying the principles of triage with the limited resources available to us. Just like an emergency room doctor, we are trying to focus on those who can be saved, and let other organizations reduce the suffering of those we cannot save. Every life has value, but if we tried to save everyone, we would become so inundated and ineffective that we would save no one.”

  Julio stared at the poster admonishing children to wash their hands. He looked back at the study area and saw the girl in the corner looking at him. She looked away as soon as his eyes met hers.

  “How do you determine who gets accepted?” asked Doctor Barilla. “What criteria do you use? Which lives are more valuable and worth saving?”

  “My dear doctor, that is proprietary information.” He raised a finger and added, “Let me assure you that Caritas is changing the lives of many needy children, and shortly we will be expanding the program to help more, provided our sponsors at the UN are happy with our progress.” He looked at his watch. “I’m sorry I have to end the tour, but I must attend to other duties. Please follow me.”

  Isak approached a metal door at the back of the waiting room and unlocked it with a swipe of his left hand. He opened the door and ushered Doctor Barilla and Julio into a small L-shaped hallway. They waited for Isak to close the door and followed him around the corner. At the other end of the hallway, Isak opened the door to his office and ushered them in.

  Without offering them a seat or even slowing down, Isak opened the door to the reception. “Well, Doctor, it has been a pleasure,” he offered as he ushered them back into the lobby. The receptionist didn’t even look up from her magazine.

  Doctor Barilla shook Isak’s hand as he passed through the door to the lobby. “Thank you for taking the time to show us around.”

  Julio followed Doctor Barilla into the reception with his heart in his shoes. He thought he could still smell the chicken and potatoes cooking in the room next door. He wasn’t sure if the knot in his stomach was from hunger or disappointment, but at this point, they felt the same. He glanced up at the receptionist, perhaps for sympathy, but she ignored him with her nose still tucked away in the glossy fashion magazine. He tried to recall one of Mamá’s sayings to cheer him up, but nothing came to mind, so he pulled his skateboard from his backpack and shuffled for the door.

  “Julio,” called Isak. “Have you lost interest in the opportunity that I am offering you?”

  Surprised at the question, Julio spun around. “Of course not, but I thought . . .” He glanced back at Doctor Barilla.

  Isak stood in the door of his office with his hands in his pockets. “Would you like to stay for lunch and see if you qualify?”

  Julio looked at Doctor Barilla, but the doctor just shrugged and continued out the door. Julio stared at his dirty shoes. The thought of getting chipped made him shudder. He looked up at Isak and cleared his throat. “Yes, I would like to do that.”

  Isak turned to the receptionist without leaving his doorway. “Isabela, introduce Julio to Carmen and make sure he gets lunch.”

  Isabela looked at Julio and rolled her eyes. Then she stood and smiled at Isak. “Yes, Señor Blixt. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Julio, stay in the cafeteria after lunch, and I will come find you,” directed Isak.

  Julio smiled and nodded at Isak, but his attention soon shifted to Isabela as she came around the desk. The sound of her heels striking the tile floor echoed against the walls, and Julio was surprised she could even walk in a dress so tight. The dress exposed her legs above the middle of her thigh, and her toenails were painted a bright red to match her fingernails and her lipstick. He imagined that without her heels they would be the same height, but right now she was a couple of inches taller. If only Raúl were here to see this.

  Julio followed Isabela out the front door and down to the second entrance. He saw Doctor Barilla making his way down the street. Isabela opened the door with a swipe of her hand and reminded Julio of the technology he would have to accept. As a member of Caritas, he would not only have to accept it but he would also have to embrace it, or at least let it under his skin.

  Isabela’s heels clicked against the floor as they entered the cafeteria, and she made a beeline for the kitchen like she didn’t want to spend too much time babysitting. Julio could feel everyone’s eyes on him, or perhaps her. Either way, he felt that awkward sense of being the stranger in the room. Just as Isabela got to the door, a large woman met her.

  “Oh good, you’re here,” said Isabela. “Here’s another street kid for you to feed.”

  The corpulent cook in the doorway wore sweatpants and sneakers, and looked like she enjoyed her cooking just a little too much. Her black hair, sprinkled with gray, was pulled up in a bun on top of her head, and her thick glasses were partially steamed up. “Better another street kid than another bomboncita like you.”

  Isabela struck a pose, like she was trying to make the older woman jealou
s, and then strutted back out through the foyer with her heels echoing against the tile floor.

  The lunch lady’s face lit up in a satisfied smirk, and Julio could see that she was missing one of her front teeth. She wiped her hands on her apron that looked like it had been white at one time, and extended her thick hand to Julio. “Hola, mi hijo. I’m Carmen.”

  Her hand was still wet when Julio shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said. He was sure that Raúl wouldn’t approve of this woman’s looks, but based on the smells coming from the kitchen, Julio thought she was beautiful. “Julio Camino, a las órdenes.”

  “Well, Julio, lunch will be ready in a few minutes.” She pointed at the bathrooms on the other side of the study area. “Go wash your hands and face before lunch. I want you to enjoy the food, but remember to eat everything you take. We don’t want to waste food.” She winked at Julio. “If Isak lets you into the program, I will treat you like one of my children, and my children do not go away hungry.” She smiled and exposed the gap in her teeth as her round face lit up with pride.

  Maybe it was simply because he missed Mamá or because she was the first woman since Mamá to cook for him, but something about Carmen seemed familiar. Julio smiled back and headed for the boy’s bathroom still trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar. He expected to find the usual sinks and toilets, but true to Isak’s description, the bathroom included three showers stocked with soap, shampoo, and clean towels. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was filthy. He hesitated at the sink for only a moment, and then hurried over to the shower. He tossed his backpack and skateboard on the bench outside the shower, hung his dirty clothes on the hooks provided, and plunged into the stream of hot water. It felt good to be clean.