Lazarus Chip

We were ushered into the amphitheater and ordered to take our places. Below us, a huge drill sergeant pounded on his chest and dared for a volunteer. At a few moments, one stood up and walked down towards the stage. "The average soldier", bellowed the drill sergeant, "has only his feeble survival instinct to draw upon. The soldier here now on the stage before you is a cut above the rest. He is just here to give a double blood donation and be subject to a minor medical experiment. Everyone, let's all applaud for our brave volunteer today."

We all stood and applauded. It came as a shock to many of us that anyone would volunteer for the cruel and ghoulish experiment which was to follow. "Now," continued the drill sergeant, "our brave volunteer here will donate two pints of blood, which will help critically wounded soldiers in our hospitals." At this, all us soldiers in the stands rose up to applaud. What a brave young man, we all thought, to subject himself not just to physical discomfort, but shame and humiliation at the hands of the cruel drill sergeant. 

It took about 20 minutes for the two pints of blood to be harvested from the brave volunteer. When that was finished, a team of scientists and technicians came upon the stage with all kinds of ghastly machines. The drill sergeant came to the volunteer and held his hand. The usual cruel look in his eyes was replaced with one of admiration. 

"Young man, you should be proud of yourself. Your family is proud of you. Your fellow soldiers are proud of you. I am proud of you."

At this, and spontaneously, we all arose to applaud the bravery of the common soldier from our ranks. 

"Soldiers, you may be seated. Now, our brave volunteer here is about to have a Lazarus chip implanted at the base of his brain. The Lazarus Chip was developed as an artificial survival mechanism. When a soldier with the implant has a heart rate below 70 beats per minute, or a systolic blood pressure rate below 110, the chip turns on and assumes full control of the skeletal muscles in the patient's body until those numbers reach those of a healthy adult. Let's show our support now as our brave volunteer has the chip implanted."

It only took a moment for the weird machine to graft the chip into the back of our comrade's head. We all rose to applaud once more, but with apprehension about what was to come next.

The drill sergeant drew a knife with one hand, and with the other, he picked up a baseball bat hidden on the stage. We all gasped in horror. With a bat in one hand and a knife in the other, the drill sergeant closed in on the brave volunteer, now weakened by blood loss and still lying on the bed. There was a terrible knock as the drill sergeant whacked the volunteer's head hard with the bat. All of us soldiers in the stands winced at the sound. 

Then, all at once, the volunteer lept up and grabbed the drill sergeant's hands. For about a minute, the drill feebly tried to stab or bludgeon the volunteer. They grappled for another minute until the volunteer used a judo throw to hurl the drill sergeant off the stage. He landed with a thud.

The drill sergeant rose up and dusted himself off. "Now soldiers", he spoke, "perhaps you see the power of technology which is here for you. You are all brave men, but the war we face is hard, and so we need all the help we can get. You are not required to be implanted with the Lazarus chip, but I hope for your sake that you take it. It has saved many of my friends. Soldiers, you are dismissed!"

We stood in unison and quietly filed back to our bunks in the base dorms. Of course, all we could talk about was whether to get the chip implant or not. For some, it was a more practical matter as they were the only surviving relative of their family. For others, it was a more utilitarian calculation. Why get killed if a chip can keep you alive? Is it dishonorable to win if a program is doing the fighting for you?

When the day came, us soldiers were separated into two lines: those taking the chip and the rest. From what I could tell, about 95% of us chose to take the chip implant. I and my friends were among the rest. We soon became a tight-knit group as our status as a minority made it hard for us to maintain our previous friendships.

Later and very quietly, a general gathered us to say that we were an elite group, and that those who refused the implant were the best soldiers. He added that since there were so few of us, we must fight with other so-called chipped soldiers. I was OK with it, but many of my friends balked. We all sighed loudly at our disappointment.

 

The drill sergeant pointed at me. "You! I need a guy to establish a beach head on Chalupa Prime. Are you in or not? Say no, and you can spend the next three years scrubbing rust off freighters until your discharge."

The words of my response formed slowly in my head. "I'm in, tough guy. And when me and my guys win, we're gonna drink you and all your candy-ass shit-dick friends under the table...drill sergeant."

The burly drill sergeant laughed until he coughed. "Ha! Soldier, what's your name and the name of your unit?"

I thought for a moment before blurting out "Murphy. Murphy's Marauders."

"Well, hot damn man, maybe you're a soldier after all. Get your guys down to the armory and suit up. Chalupa Prime is a tough nut to crack, so I've heard. You're gonna need flamethrowers, grenade launchers, shoulder-fired nuclear weapons..."

"Yeah, I get the picture. Drill sergeant, are we done here?"

"Yes. God speed and good luck, Murphy."