At seemingly random intervals — but Jean knows they are not, with the prey's grasp of the grammar of the hunt — something switches on inside her brain. When that happens she considers with care everything she has done and thought since the last time, evaluates it with unsparing precision against complex legal, moral, and workplace rules, and engages in a thorough program of self-punishment and restitution. Only when all wrongs have been paid for the thing switches itself off. Whether Jean feels the pain of regret or the pain of punishment is indifferent to the people who put the thing inside her and she'd find it difficult to say.
Sometimes Jean thinks the thing might no longer be there — implants break, epigenetics wash out — and her evaluation and punishment is something her brain learned. When the thing switches on she can't hide even from herself that it isn't doubt but hope and punishes herself for this hope.
Many people never had put into them the thing Jean has.
Some, very few, had it for a while and then it was removed once the thing corrected the flaw it was meant to fix.
Jean knows she'll always have the thing inside her; what it's meant to control is not something that can be changed.
(There are times and places where people could and can. Not to become free of a thing they did not have but for a reason Jean has nobody she can ask. Once, she thought about it and decided she wouldn't choose to change her gender even if she could, not even to get free of the thing and the pain, and although she thought the thing would be pleased with her answer her self-punishment for asking herself the question was not light.)