Chapter 7 - Blood And Microchips
Inside the warm, brightly lit kitchen, Elena worked with clinical precision. She wrapped the children in heated blankets, warmed two bottles of goat's milk from her refrigerator, and sat Esperanza down by the wood-burning stove with a mug of sweet black tea.
While Esperanza wept quietly, feeding the ravenous children, Elena inspected the severe bruising along the young woman's arms. When she pulled back the nun’s sleeve and saw the cluster of puncture marks on the inner elbow, Elena’s face hardened into stone.
""These aren't medical drips,"" Elena said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. ""I know these marks. My sister had them before she had her stroke. These are high-gauge extraction and implantation cannulas used in advanced gene therapy.""
""Mother Caridad found this,"" Esperanza whispered, pulling the crumpled strip of tape from her pocket and laying it on the table.
Elena picked up the tape, examining the CL-BIO imprint under the desk lamp. She let out a slow, bitter breath. ""Caelum Life Bio-Technologies. They were forced out of Switzerland three years ago for conducting unauthorized CRISPR gene editing on human embryos. They vanished into private offshore shell companies. And Fernando brought them here.""
Suddenly, baby Sofia let out a sharp cry, arching her back as if in pain.
Esperanza quickly gathered the infant, gently rocking her. As she did, Elena’s professional eye caught a strange, tiny lump beneath the skin at the base of the baby’s neck, just above the spine.
""Hold her still for a moment, Esperanza,"" Elena said, stepping toward her veterinary examination kit on the counter.
""What is it? Is she sick?""
""Let me check."" Elena retrieved a handheld microchip scanner—the kind used to identify lost pets and registered livestock. She passed the wand gently over the infant’s upper spine.
BEEP.
A sharp, digital chime echoed through the quiet kitchen.
On the scanner’s liquid-crystal display, a twelve-digit alphanumeric string lit up: VAL-992-MOD-C.
Esperanza stared at the glowing letters, her blood turning to ice. ""What does that mean?""
""It means your daughter isn't legally registered as a human being,"" Elena whispered, her hands shaking with suppressed fury. ""She has been cataloged as proprietary genetic property. They implanted an RFID tracking capsule into her subcutaneous tissue before you were even allowed to hold her.""
Elena grabbed the scanner and immediately ran it over two-year-old Mateo’s shoulder.
BEEP.
VAL-904-MOD-A.
The room fell into a deathly silence.
The children were not miracles. They were living, breathing patents—products waiting for shipment once their biological stability was fully documented by Dr. Paloma's periodic blood tests.
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Before either woman could speak, the rumble of a heavy engine vibrated through the floorboards outside. A pair of high-beam headlights illuminated the kitchen blinds, casting horizontal bars of shadow across the walls.
A car had just pulled into Elena’s gravel driveway.
