"It's been a month, but at least my parents have calmed down. I'm not sure why they were upset - they were the ones that had me declawed, after all."
"
The Author wrote:
Plot relevance to the novel will be explained later.
What are his parents upset about? Well, that lump he’s poking at is a subdermal tag, and the story of why his parents are pissed and the story of how he got the microchip injected have quite a lot to do with each other. A little less than a month ago, he went on a two-day field trip with the gifted life sciences class to learn about modern transgenic arts and sciences - the same sciences that made dragons like him, in fact.
To draw a parallel, in the early days of the 21st century, coal mining companies paid for science curricula for impoverished primary schools. If you are surprised that these did not include accurate details on atmospheric chemistry and climate change, then I suggest practicing deliberate cynicism from now on.
His parents did not object to the field trip, for they didn’t object to him being taught cutting-edge science. What they didn’t know when they signed the permission slip was, the augmented classes version of the field trip included not only studies of the human condition, but also a “Lapdragon for a day” section. Those in his class who weren’t declawed - most were, since the maulings in California covered on nationwide news - were, and all of them were implanted with microchip tags as part of the trip - including this dragonet, whose parents were not thoroughly consulted on the matter. All of the augmented quadrupeds were put through much the same process; those who weren’t already declawed, were; all the harvested claws were sold as jewelry components, recouping the vet bill and then some. Each of his class were injected with a microchip tag, an RFID implant designed by the ‘shoppe for use in patient tracking and - even earlier - in lapdragons for morale purposes. Each of them was injected with hormone-blocking drugs, given a pair of papercuts to mimic a desexing operation, and bandaged as though the sham surgery was real.
What was designed by the Bodyshoppe as something of a “scared straight” experience was eased, the sharp edges filed off, and the class talked through the experience. Combined with the drugs used, the process was turned from a vaguely menacing series of surgeries into a clear and pleasant outcome, with a challenging intermediate step. Like the rest of his class, he was returned to his family with an implant he didn’t leave home with, one challenging to remove, and enthusiastic stories about his experiences at the body boutique playing at being a coveted piece of living art, as well as having many other fascinating pieces of trivia and insights into the re-engineering of humanity thanks to their experiences.
Unfortunately, while the scars faded, those present remember where to look, and can still see them if the light is at the right angle, and the implant serves as a durable reminder of their time as a lapdragon for a day - a month later, and the majority of them were loudly protesting for their opportunity to be recruited as Fawns by the Bodyshoppe in their newly expanded Fawn program, offering them their own retreat equal in respect to the Reindeer this year.
