We got our new Canadian passports just before we left Dubai for good, and my son said they have a chip embedded in it with our details.
“Whoa.” I said. “Isn’t that like our cat being micro-chipped? Now somebody’s computer in the government will be tracking us, knowing our every move. I don’t like that, why did I not know about this earlier?”
“Dad, we never go anywhere interesting. Tracking us would be very boring,” said the younger son.
“There they all go to the mall again, do we have to track them, sir?” said the elder guy, laughing.
“Wait, this is fake news, right? Like they said that the new Indian currency will have a chip embedded so that the bureaucrats know where exactly under your mattress you are hiding your ill-gotten, un-taxed wealth,” I said.
“I knew about the chip,” said my wife who had downloaded and filled the passport forms. All I did was to sign them.
“Can’t we cover the chip with scotch tape or something like the kids do to their laptop cameras so hackers can’t see what they are doing at home,” I said.
“What are you talking about?” said my wife as the embassy staffer shouted, “Next”.
“Even Facebook’s Zuckerberg covers his laptop’s camera and mike,” I said. “Hackers can easily get in and take control of your computer through remote-controlled Trojans,” I said.
“You are not allowed to disfigure your passport,” said my son. “Scotch tape will make it all sticky and it will attract dirt. Only a machine can scan the chip, dad,” said my son, rolling his eyes.
“I read somewhere that anyone with a device can scan the passport in my pocket as I am walking by,” I said. “Maybe I should cover the chip with tinfoil. Come to think of it I should cover all the bank debit and credit cards with tinfoil. Can I zap the passport chip in the microwave to get rid of the data?” I said.
“The chip is embedded in the back page and it only has the information that is on page two and includes a feature that shows the passport is valid. It will not track you. You don’t have to undergo an eye scan or give your fingerprints,” said my wife, with a deep sigh. “Not a good idea, the passport might catch fire if you microwave it,” she said.
“I saw a movie where a spy hauls a dead body around to open the door into a secret facility with the dead man’s eye. He holds up the dead body and places its face on the scanner, and opens the eyelid. You can do the same thing with fingerprints, can’t you? You take along a man’s hand and press the fingerprint into the scanner? We now have a fingerprint scanner to get into our workplace,” I said.
The embassy staffer looked at me strangely. “Place your ID here,” she said, shutting the door of a metal tube with a bang and sliding it towards me across the window.
“See, they have disfigured the old passport. They have snipped a part of the cover off. I had paid good money for this passport,” I told my son.
A few weeks after we arrived in Bangalore, India, we went to a restaurant and the waiter suggested a few dishes and then wanted my email address and phone number. “I am not going to give it you,” I said, and he seemed puzzled. “We just want to send you the latest promos,” he said sadly.
Then my bank arm-twisted me to connect the account to a unique identification number that everyone residing in India should have. “I am not going to do that,” I said, and the bank manager had a sadistic smile on his face.
Mahmood Saberi is a storyteller and blogger based in Bengaluru, India. Twitter: @mahmood_saberi
