Will midwives be there all the same?
Kind words, kind hands to ease the pain.
Or will there be some strange machine,
That plays Vivaldi and intervenes?
When it’s finished, all joy deprived,
Metallic voice says ‘It’s arrived’.
Then baby’s cleaned and put in cot,
A chip inserted, but worry not.
This will serve in years to come,
If only baby does not succumb.
As downloads to the age of five,
Can overload and few survive.
By six they know much more than you,
Been updated and speak Hindu,
German, French and Mandarin,
Knows all your family and next of kin.
By twelve they’ve passed all known exams.
Earned countless pounds by various scams.
Their Piggy Banks have overflowed,
Perhaps this time they’ll pay what’s owed.
At age sixteen the chip is changed,
If left in longer they become deranged.
An updated one installed instead,
The time has come that parents dread.
New chip includes the Highway Code,
Within a year they’ll hit the road.
Your car insurance triples with ease,
No bonus left, they took the keys.
At eighteen they must find some work,
Instead of staying home to shirk.
The chip connects, the current flies,
They’ve been employed before your eyes.
The government now controls the rest.
In your heart, you’ve done your best.
No longer in a chip free zone,
They lodge them quick, so they leave home.
They join those countless millions more,
From London town to Singapore.
Each one with highly programmed chip,
So wave good bye or ‘Toodle-pip!’
Perhaps these thoughts are too extreme,
But nightmare comes from troubled dream.
It’s not with help of passing years,
That may allay my doubts and fears.