by Anne Rasico
When the Chips Are Down
By Anne Rasico
Chapter 1
What the hell happened to me?! That was the first thing that came to Brooklyn’s mind when she awoke in her little blue BMW to find it smashed into a tree. The engine was still running and the wipers were on, but the hood was crunched up like an accordion. Her head was throbbing and her chest ached with every breath she took.
She could feel blood trickling down the side of her face. Judging by the amount of snow on the hood and the side windows, she was sure she had been there awhile. She couldn’t remember wrecking her car. All she remembered was leaving her friend, Alyssa’s graduation party. I must have hit a patch of ice, she thought.
She was in too much pain to move. She pushed the button to roll down her driver’s side window. A piercing feeling shot up her arm. The snow was still falling. There were no houses beside her that she could see, but across the road there were several small suburban looking homes that all looked the same. No one was outside except an old man shoveling snow in his driveway.
Brooklyn took a deep, painful breath and tried to scream for help, but all that came out was a shrill cry that was barely audible. She pressed down on the horn and held it. The old man whirled around, startled. Seeing her, he threw down his snow shovel and ran to his front door, flinging it open.
“Ellen, call 911. There’s been an accident!” he shouted inside the house. He ran across the road to Brooklyn. “Are you alright?” he said.
“Uh….I don’t know,” she responded weakly. She started to feel dizzy and sweaty. A small, frail looking old woman approached with a warm washcloth in her hand. She pressed it to the side of Brooklyn’s head.
“It’s okay. Just lie back,” she said soothingly. Brooklyn could feel the woman’s boney fingers underneath her chin. The couple’s voices became muffled. Her eyelids felt heavy. She closed her eyes and let the blackness envelop her.
When she awoke, she saw only white. Is this heaven? she thought. As her eyes began to focus, she realized she was staring at the ceiling. She was in a hospital bed. There was no one around. She didn’t even have a roommate in the bed next to her. There was a tube in her arm and another tube running under her gown. She was surprised that she felt fine. Her head did not throb as it had just before she lost consciousness. She pushed the call button above her bed. A few minutes later a surprised looking nurse came into the room.
“You’re awake,” she said, looking surprised.
“Yeah…” Brooklyn replied.
The nurse quickly left the room. “Doctor Morris, the patient in 215 is awake,” she called. An equally surprised looking doctor came into the room. “It’s nice to see you’re awake. How do you feel?” he said, reaching into his lab coat pocket, pulling out an otoscope, and shining it into her eyes.
“I feel just fine,” she replied, “How long have I been sleeping?”
“You’ve been in a coma for over two years now,” the doctor replied.
“What?” Are you serious?” Brooklyn cried.
“You sustained massive head trauma. You’re lucky to have survived. We need to run some tests to make sure you haven’t suffered any permanent damage,” Dr. Morris explained. Brooklyn threw off the blanket, sat up, and started to climb out of her bed. “Wait,” Dr. Morris said, putting his hands on her shoulders, “Your muscles are weak from nonuse. You will need to strengthen them before you can walk on your own.” His mouth kept moving, but Brooklyn didn’t hear anything else he said.
So many thoughts were running through her mind, she could not contain them all. I’ve lost two years of my life! Where is everyone? What’s happened since my wreck? How could I have been in a coma for two years??!! I sustained massive head trauma? Do I have brain damage?
When the doctor had finished speaking and left the room, Brooklyn picked up the phone beside her bed and dialed her parents’ number. This is going to be one hell of a shock for them, I guess, she thought. But instead of her parents, all she got was a recording saying that the number was no longer in service.
She dialed the number again and got the same message. Why would they change their number? she thought. Her parents had lived in the same house for twenty years and had had the same number forever. She picked up a phone book that was in a drawer on the end table by her bed. Her parents were not listed in the phone book.
Not knowing what else to do, she dialed her best friend Trent’s cell phone number. “Hello,” a man’s voice said.
“Trent?” she said.
“Yeah, who’s this?” Trent replied.
“It’s me, Trent.” There was a brief pause.
“Brook? Brooklyn? Is that you?” Trent exclaimed.
“Yeah, it’s me,” she said.
“No way! How the hell….??? It’s really you?!” Trent sputtered.
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of Mom and Dad, but I guess their number is changed,” Brooklyn said.
“I didn’t think I’d ever hear your voice again, Brook. Damn, it’s good to talk to you,” Trent exclaimed.
“You, too,” she said, “I guess we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Have I really been in a coma for two years?”
“Yes, over two years now. The year is 2020,” Trent said.
“I can’t believe it. It doesn’t feel that way to me at all,” she mused.
“I’ll come and get you. You‘re still at the hospital, aren’t you?” Trent said.
“Yes, of course,” Brooklyn responded. She didn’t want to waste another minute lying in her hospital bed.
“Alright, give me until tomorrow morning and I’ll be there,” he said.
“Why can’t you be here until tomorrow morning? You’re not living in Colorado anymore?” Brooklyn asked.
“No, none of us are. That’s why you couldn’t reach your parents. We’re living in Montana,” Trent said.
“Are you serious? What are you doing there?” Brooklyn asked, astonished.
Trent was not the type of person one would picture living on a ranch or a rural farmland, like most of Montana. Trent, like Brooklyn was a graduate of the University of Denver, who majored in computer science and was a computer programmer up until the accident. Trent and Brooklyn had even been working for the same company. They had been inseparable since high school.
“Look, a lot has changed since you wrecked your car. It’s all really complicated, and I don’t want to get into it over the phone. I’ll fill you in once I get there. Just stay at the hospital where it’s safe. Don’t go anywhere else,” Trent emphasized.
“Safe?” Brooklyn echoed, confused.
“I’ll explain everything later; just promise me you’ll stay there!” Trent said.
“Alright,” Brooklyn said.
“Can I call you on this number that you called me from?” Trent asked.
“Yeah, it’s my hospital phone,” Brooklyn said.
“Ok then I’ll call you later, and I’ll be there soon. I’ll tell Zane and Caleb the good news.” Trent said.
“Where are they now?” Brooklyn wanted to know.
“Zane and Caleb are my roommates,” Trent said. Zane and Caleb were Trent and Brooklyn’s friends from college. Zane and Caleb were finishing their Masters Degrees in Systems Engineering when Trent asked them to join their study group. He knew that he and Brooklyn could learn a lot from them. He had no idea that they would all become such good friends.
“I’ll see you soon, girl,” Trent said.
“Okay, “Brooklyn said, happily. She was perplexed by her conversation with Trent. She had no idea what would make her friends all suddenly move to Montana. They had never even expressed any desire to go there. It was especially bizarre that her parents would move anywhere, after liv
ing in the same house for twenty years. I think I’ve awakened in the Twilight Zone, Brooklyn thought to herself.
Throughout the next twenty-four hours, Brooklyn underwent a series of tests, which all came back normal, watched TV, acquired an obnoxious roommate, met with a physical therapist, attempted to stretch her leg muscles from her bed, and waited anxiously for Trent. She could not sleep at all.
When Trent appeared in the doorway of her room, she almost didn’t recognize him. His skin was tan and weathered and he was more muscular than he used to be. His dark brown hair was lighter now. His look had changed from college Frat guy to rugged outdoorsman.
. He smiled when he saw her. He walked over to her bed and they held each other tightly. Trent handed her a duffle bag. “I packed some of your old clothes. I hope they still fit,” he said.
“I didn’t know you still had any of my clothes,” Brooklyn said.
“I never could bring myself to throw them away,” he admitted.
“I’ll get dressed so we can leave,” she said, pulling the clothes out of the bag.
Trent turned his back to give her privacy. After she was dressed, he helped her into a wheel chair that was in the corner of the room and wheeled her down the hall towards the side door.
“I probably need to check out or something. They don’t even know I’m leaving,” Brooklyn said.
“Good, they don’t need to know because we are getting out of here now,” Trent declared.
Trent glanced nervously behind him and wheeled her out of the door through the parking lot to an old, white Ford Ranger truck and helped her inside. “Where did you get this thing?” she asked.
“From my uncle,” Trent replied. He started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.
Brooklyn did not wait long to ask Trent what exactly had been going on for the past two years. Trent took a deep breath. “Do you remember any talk about microchips before your accident?” he asked.
“Microchips?” Brooklyn said, throwing her duffle bag into the back seat.
“It was just controversy up until about a year ago. The government passed a bill requiring every U.S. citizen to have a microchip installed in their arm. The chip not only is the center of every type of transaction, but it can track the whereabouts of any person who has it. If you misbehave, so to speak, they can also shut it off any time they feel like it,” Trent explained.
Brooklyn thought hard. “I think I do remember hearing something like that.”
“They acted fast in doing it. They didn’t want to give people time to think about it. It works by the communication of radio waves. The chip is read whenever you pass through a doorway equipped with a chip scanner, which is in almost every place of business now. You can’t even buy groceries or fly on an airplane without the chip. Cash is obsolete now. Every bit of a person’s identity is stored on the chip-their bank account information, social security number, birth date, citizenship status. The chip was approved by default without testing because it‘s not considered a ‘regulated medical device’,” Trent relayed.
“So everyone just rolled up their sleeves and agreed to it?” Brooklyn asked.
“Most people did. President Burke scared a lot of people with the threats of terrorism. He said the chip would ensure safety, and that it would be next to impossible for a terrorist to come to America. He also made a big deal about the fact that the chip would cut down on crime since there’s no point in robbing anyone anymore,” Trent replied
“Those of us who beg to differ from their lies are living in our own communities. That’s why Zane, Caleb, myself and a few groups of farmers and other outcasts are all living within a fifty mile radius of one another,” Trent said, “Most of the religious fanatics are probably somewhere in Utah. They were all screaming that the end of the world is near and that the chip is the mark of the devil. Actually, I think they’re probably not too far from the truth on that one.”
“Why do you say that?” Brooklyn asked.
“The chip makes people act weird. I don’t know what it is but everyone I know who has that chip in their arm acts like they’re on tranquilizers or something, like they’re just totally zoned out and don’t care about anything. They‘re like mindless little robots. There’s something about that chip that the government didn’t tell the public and has no intention of telling them,” Trent said.
“So you think it brainwashes people?” Brooklyn wanted to know.
“I don’t really know. All I know is that I’m not letting that damn thing anywhere near my arm,” Trent declared.
“Will we be hunted down and arrested for refusing the chip?” Brooklyn asked.
“If we were caught by the police without one, we’d be sent to a prison camp, but I seriously doubt anyone’s going to hunt us down. Big Brother doesn’t want to waste their time and resources tracking down everyone who refuses a chip. I believe they think of us as cockroaches they won’t go out of their way to step on unless they see,” Trent replied.
“Where are my parents and sister now?” Brooklyn said.
“The last thing I heard from them is that they went to Detroit to take care of your grandmother. She had another stroke and wasn’t doing too well,” Trent said.
“Did they have the chip implanted?” she asked warily.
“I don’t know. They left shortly before the bill was passed. I promised them I’d take care of you if you ever awoke from your coma,” Trent said, taking an exit to a rural road.
Brooklyn’s mind was reeling. She wouldn’t have even believed it had she heard it from anyone other than Trent. Everything that was once constant, familiar, and safe had disappeared in her sleep. She thought back to her freshman year of high school when she and Trent were in somebody’s basement smoking for the first time with some friends. “Champagne Supernova” was blaring in the background.
Brooklyn picked up a lighter from the coffee table. Staring at the bar code on the back, she said, “Some day we’ll all have bar codes. I don‘t want to hold this thing anymore.” Her old high school buddies did not seem to pay much attention to her. Their only reply was “puff and pass already!”
They were silent in the truck for a while until Brooklyn realized something. “You haven’t told me exactly what you guys are doing in Montana.”
A little smile came across Trent’s face. “Farming,” he said.
Brooklyn doubled over laughing and Trent knew she would react that way. “You’re cowboy computer nerds! How did you decide to do that?” she giggled.
“What else were we going to do to get by? Times are tough. Some times all you can do is pull on your overalls and get to plantin’ and harvestin,” Trent joked in a southern tone.
“I can’t believe Zane, of all people, took up farming,” Brooklyn chuckled.
“Zane‘s had a hard year,” Trent said in a much more serious tone, “his parents flipped when all of this microchip stuff first went down. I don’t know if they were religious or not, but they definitely thought the chip was evil, so they packed the car and headed for Mexico with Zane’s little brothers. You remember the twins, don’t you?”
“Vaguely,” Brooklyn recalled.
“Well, anyways they were in a car wreck on the way to Juarez and his parents died,” Trent said soberly.
Brooklyn’s mouth dropped open. “That’s awful! Are the twins living on the farm?”
“No they’re in foster homes now, but they’ll be coming to live with us when they turn eighteen, which will be soon,” Trent replied.
Brooklyn wasn’t sure how much life-altering and shocking news she could handle in one day, but she was sure she had reached her limit.
Trent had driven for several hours when Brooklyn suggested that they stop at the nearest motel and call it a night.
“We can’t do that. As I mentioned before, cash is obsolete. We can’t check into a motel,” Trent said.
“So where are we going to sleep tonight?” Brooklyn wanted to know.
“You’re looking at it,
” Trent smiled, gesturing towards the back seat of the extended cab of the truck.
“This is going to be a long trip,” Brooklyn groaned.
Brooklyn slept in the back seat of the truck for most of the ride home. Trent had driven nonstop, other than to pull over and refill the gas tank with the containers he had in the truck bed. He was hungry and exhausted, as Brooklyn had eaten most of the food he’d brought with him, but his excitement over finally bringing her home kept him going.
“Brook, wake up. We’re almost there,” Trent said, nudging her.
“What?” she groaned sleepily.
“We’re home,” Trent said, turning onto a dirt road.
She sat up as they pulled into the long driveway of a beautiful, two story white farmhouse, with a foyer and baby blue window trimming.
There was a small, white barn near the house with a pig pen made of concrete slabs, and Brooklyn could see a lake off in the distance. There was a garden in the side yard full of ripe tomatoes, green peppers, and carrots. It was surrounded by flat, sparsely green land, and Brooklyn guessed that there wasn’t a neighbor for miles. It was a peaceful looking place. Trent gathered their belongings, walked around to her side, and helped Brooklyn out of the truck with his free hand. She was wobbly on her feet at first but walking became easier with each step. When she walked through the door, a group of people yelled, “Surprise!”
Zane and Caleb stood grinning under the “Welcome Home Brooklyn” banner they had made for her. Trent’s cousins, Desiree and Sarah ran to Brooklyn, tackling her with hugs. “We’re so glad you’re back,” Desiree said.