Empathy of Wireless Fidelity Casey Marshall Jenn was in no way apprehensive about the procedure; if anything she was eager to have it done, almost to the point of girlish impatience. A handful of her close friends had done it, and none of them could stop raving about its fantastic effect on their lives. Much of the wealthy youth of the city were getting it done that it was on the verge of becoming a fad -- the sort of things middle- and upper-class teenagers would start bugging their parents to allow. But at the moment it was still an underground thing, not endorsed but not forbidden by the powers of the state. Jenn went to a clinic that a friend of hers from university was interning at; this was still the sort of thing that you needed friends-of-friends -- and sizable portion of a trust fund's allowance -- to get done. This was part of the appeal to her, that it was a privileged thing that the average person couldn't afford or even seek out. There was no anaesthesia, and no knives. After shaking the doctor's hand and greeting Sandra, her friend, Jenn was told to sit back into a padded, reclining chair. Tight but comfortable straps were used to make sure she didn't move during the installation, and a pair of cold contacts were swung from both sides of the chair's headrest onto the sides of Jenn's temples. ``Comfortable?'' the doc asked. ``Yes,'' Jenn said, making sure to speak the assent instead of nodding it. ``Good,'' the doctor moved back and forth from Jenn's side to his computer terminal, adjusting the contraptions straddling Jenn's head and viewing the results. ``Ok. We'll have you here for about three hours, so please try to sit as still as you can. You can sleep if you like.'' ``Mmmm hmm.'' ``Ok. You may feel a little pressure, and it may tingle a bit. Let Sandy know if you need to stop,'' he paused as he reviewed the controls once again, then clicked some keys. ``Here we go,'' and a final click made the whole thing begin. It was pressure, and felt a little bit like the sides of her head fell asleep -- there was a numb tingling where the device touched her. The device was slowly embedding two silicon wafers, each less than a square centimeter, into the skin of Jenn's temples. These devices, when embedded and activated, would act as a pair of receiver/transmitter assemblies, translating the brainwaves in the immediate area of her frontal lobe into discrete radio signals, transmitting them into the space around her. They would also receive other radio signals, and stimulate her brain accordingly. The principle was almost amusingly similar to the audio and visual broadcasts of a century ago, where in the case of radio the modulation of a simple wide-band electromagnetic wave was used to vibrate the membrane of a speaker, reproducing the sound as it was recorded. In this case the human brain was substituted for speakers and microphones, and thoughts and emotions replaced sound. Science didn't like to admit this, but instead of disproving the existence of telepathy, they implemented it. People Jenn spoke to who had had the devices installed commented on how it felt -- you didn't hear the thoughts of others, or feel their emotions, but when others with the device were around (that being the one catch: you needed to be nearby someone else with the device) you could feel the glow of another person's mind. Each nearby mind was distinct -- amongst a group of people there was a multiplicity of ``flavors'', all around, and you could choose to focus on any of them. ``Miss? Miss Olbrich?'' came Sandy's gentle, professional nudging. Jenn hadn't realized she'd been asleep. ``Yes,'' she said, feeling oddly fatigued. ``You're all done; you can sit up and catch your bearings.'' Jenn did so, and found that while there was a fatigue, and a strange dizziness, but otherwise felt no different. The clinic had her linger there for another twenty minutes, then sent her home on the train with a tiny device that she was told to keep with her for the next week or so: an inhibitor, which would disable the devices' transmitter and receiver, and allow her body to become accustomed to them. She could turn it off any time -- it was safe to do so -- but she might find the sensation confusing at first. The best way to do it, the doctor told her, was to turn the inhibitor off for a little while each day, then keep it off once she got used to it. Jenn turned it off for the first time as soon as she got back to her apartment. There seemed to be nothing at first, and she checked the little plastic egg-shaped device to make sure it was off -- yes, the switch was in the off position. She flicked in on and off a few times, then realized the difference -- when she flipped the switch off, there was a feeling in her. It was so indistinct at first that she didn't notice it, a slight fuzziness in her mind. It was almost nothing, an ignorable sensation. She forgot to switch the inhibitor back on, and decided to go to sleep -- it was only six o'clock, but she was tired. Not long afterward something happened. An uneasiness was building in her, growing ever stronger. She awoke and tried to figure out what it was... it was like there was a recording, in her mind, of how it felt to travel home. She felt men's eyes on her, felt the anonymous, uncomfortable closeness of an elevator -- it was somebody else! Someone was coming home, to the same apartment building. The sensation was fascinating, and Jenn focused on it, then felt something change, as though she noticed something -- then it hurt! It felt like an eye suddenly opening onto her brain, she felt exposed -- and there was a flood of feelings, questions, curiosity entering her mind, and she couldn't stop it! She clambered around, trying to find the inhibitor. She had trouble concentrating on what she could see -- then found it! She hit the switch, and there was silence. Everything went back to normal. What had she done? Why did it hurt so much? Jenn was seriously starting to have misgivings about this, and was contemplating going back to the clinic the next day, demanding that they remove these monstrous things they stuck into her head! Just then Jenn's buzzer sounded. At the door was an Asian woman, short, thirtyish, dressed smartly in the business attire of downtown. ``Hello -- ah yes, that was you,'' she said, looking at Jenn. ``What -- who -- uh.'' The woman in her doorway brushed her raven hair away from her temple, gesturing to the small, squarish bump in her skin there. ``That was me a little while ago. You just got them, I can tell.'' ``Huh? Oh, yes,'' Jenn suddenly had to know why this woman had hurt her so. ``What -- what did you do to me?'' ``I'm sorry about that, really. That must have nearly knocked you out. When did you get them?'' ``To- Today.'' She seemed shocked. ``Oh, God. Today? I'm really sorry, I could have really hurt you,'' she paused, thinking for a moment, looking Jenn over. ``Can I come in? I had better explain this better.'' Jenn flinched slightly, getting obviously defensive. The woman stood back, realizing she needed to handle this more carefully. ``Look,'' she said, ``you really need to listen to what I have to say -- let me help you -- or else you'll go back to whoever put those in tomorrow, screaming that you want them out. I really need to explain; I promise you it won't hurt again ever.'' Jenn agreed, reluctantly, and let the woman in. ``I'm Anna, by the way,'' she said, extending her hand. Jenn shook it lightly. ``Please, sit down,'' she said. Anna did, onto one of the spacious couches. ``You really should be careful,'' she said, ``you have to learn to control them before you can use them. Otherwise you could really hurt yourself.'' ``But, what happened?'' Anna seemed bemused. ``I just said `hello' to someone new. Coming home I felt you, someone I hadn't felt before, and started exploring you, and sending you bits of myself,'' she paused, and broke eye contact. ``Plus I told you not to stare.'' ``What?'' ``What you were doing at first was equivalent to `staring.' I know now that you didn't -- couldn't -- know what you were doing. I'm sorry if I was I little mean.'' ``I... It HURT.'' ``I know. It won't last, though. After a week or two you can control it enough to ignore anything that hurts, it's really easy to do that.'' Jenn nodded. ``Also: keep that inhibitor with you when you go out in public. Most of us are well behaved, but some people, some MEN, will take advantage of an inexperienced young girl like yourself, who can't defend herself yet.'' ``Defend?'' Anna smiled at this. ``Yes. You'll see, once you get experienced you can really defend yourself with those. And,'' she lowered her voice a bit, ``you'll find you are more powerful than most men.'' ``What?'' ``Yeah, that's one of the little secrets that hasn't quite come out yet. In this case, with these devices, women are an order of magnitude more powerful then men at this,'' after a beat, the two of them smiled, and started laughing. Anna stayed and made sure Jenn knew what to do, and explained why she had the devices. Anna was an executive at one of the more ruthless financial institutions downtown, and the devices made clandestine communication with her fellow executives much easier when in negotiations. They weren't usually useful in reading the minds of their marks -- few had them and those who did could hide themselves easily. The biggest benefit was it helped the team act as one mind; their goals became clearer, and they could size up the other side quicker and more accurately. It paid off -- the firm grew stronger than ever. Jenn was confident after that. The next two weeks she experimented, turning the inhibitor off from time to time, feeling the few in her building who were also wired. She did it mostly at night, feeling the glow of the dreamers, and quickly found how to be careful and not intrude. After a while she went into public with the inhibitor off. Walking around she would occasionally ``bump into'' another, and learned quickly the way to greet others. Once she did find a mind -- a man's, from where on the crowded street she couldn't tell -- and felt him try to get his way into her. She knew he could see her, and could feel her image in his mind. She pushed back. He was startled, and she could feel his mind reel back from the blow. She smiled, and told him to let that be a lesson to him. She knew she was ready now, and left the inhibitor in a desk drawer. Exploration was constant, everywhere she went. At nightclubs, with the concentration of people, she felt out others who were broadcasting themselves. The group of broadcasters -- usually five or six out of a hundred -- usually became a sub-community hovering in the radio waves above everyone else; sharing a common sensation. Sex took on unheard-of dimensions, when her partner was also wired. The two of them became closer than ever, at those brief moments, and fed off of each other's ecstasy. She felt now that she could be enveloped by men, at the same time as they entered her. The thoughts of other people were alien, to be sure, but were nevertheless familiar, each person's song slightly different, a unique pattern of their thoughts, feelings, and experiences. Her perspective changed, radically, the more she experienced people. The world was a place, unique and filled with minds, and she realized that no matter what she created her life to be, no matter how long she lived, no matter if nothing was left when she died, she knew that now she was never misunderstood, never lost, and never alone. -- Copyright (C) 2003 Casey Marshall. 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