Wiggle Your Big Toe

It's unnerving how fast you can get used to pretty much anything. If I was a proper man, I'd fight. Push back. That's my hand. My legs. My mouth, my ears.

But I'm not a proper man. I'm a thought inside my own head. My business is watching, now. I watched her, that bitch, Nona, doing it to other men. Drug them, clip their hair, slice their scalp, push the chip inside, and stitch them up again.

Stitched them up good and proper. They were never the same after. The first one, Ian, I thought I could talk to him. He - the real version of him - must be locked away in there, just like I was. I couldn't reach him. The new, fake version of him could communicate with the new, fake version of me. Like telepathy, but not really. Just devices, syncing up.

I know what it's doing. I can feel it. I can sort of see it, if I know what I'm looking for. I didn't at first. I just noticed after, that I knew new stuff. Stuff I didn't know. Had no business knowing. I know what the chip cost, where it comes from, and that it has to be be stored under eight degrees celsius.

I have no idea if it knows I'm hiding back here. What if it doesn't? What if it finds out? What will happen to me then?

I'm cowering, making myself small. Watching. Too scared to take control of its hands, I mean, my hand, again. Let it forget about that. Can it forget? I wait until it lies in the dark, next to her, I wait until they're done having sex and she's fallen asleep. I wait until I can hear her snores and smell her soap. Then I know it's powered down, and I try to take control of my limbs, my lips. Night after night, I'm like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill; wiggle your big toe!

On night, I did quite well. I managed to flex my entire foot, and bend my knee. I was ecstatic inside this half-a-corpse. I dreamed of succeeding, gently moving my body down to the kitchen, where the sharp knives were.

The next morning, it told her that its leg had behaved strangely in the night, and it had weird thoughts while it was asleep. She soothed it, told it maybe its body needed more magnesium. They're just dreams darling. It's a human thing.

Can I do this, then? Will she help me, without knowing it? Will it even work? I know what the chip looks like, I saw it when they did it to Ian. I imagine it. Maybe all this time, tiny fingers have been burrowing into my head... Ripping it out might kill me, or leave me brain-damaged. Or the Thing could've migrated from the chip into my actual brain.

I've gone days and nights without even trying. Like a fat person telling themselves they will make a change tomorrow, or that Monday will be a full reset, or time enough to start fresh in January.... Or worse, that there's no point, that they can't change anything, this is just how it is, so why try? I've wasted a lot of time on despair and cowardice. Watching her surround herself with chummy people, caked in make up and false smiles. The pack of them, they order the men to do all the crappy jobs so that they can do more squats and get more sleep, and concentrate on staying hydrated.

I'd resent her less if she used all her free time to be a mother to the girls, but they are shunted between school and childminders, after school clubs and grandparents houses.

I have to do it. Have to put my plan into action. But I can hardly even think about it, in case it notices, and realises what I am going to do. I have to stay really quiet and small, so it doesn't spot me, and when it powers down wiggle your big toe!