It was almost time. I’d been working towards this moment in secret for years. The final breakthrough in transporting live human embryos. And now only a few weeks away from the launch, from leaving the Earth and everyone on it behind for good. The phone began to ring, pulling me away from my excitement.

“Hello? Yes, this is Dr. Cassian. What do you mean the launch has been canceled?”

My hand began to shake. I threw the phone across the room where it collided with the wall and broke. I was practically screaming at the unfairness of it all. My one chance to save humanity from its eventual end, ironically canceled because of a faster, more convenient technology in development. Oh, teleportation probably would be faster and more convenient, after a few thousand failed tests and deaths no doubt. No matter, I think to myself. The man on the phone had mentioned transferring me to research in teleportations current effects on humans, since I already have a background involving bodily functions in extreme conditions. Soon a new plan began to form in my head. I would be running some of the human testing, now that the other stages were successful. This won't be a problem for me. Humanity is beyond saving, and any “accidents'' that are bound to happen would help me to save it by restarting off-world. Nothing I might see now could be worse than what happened to my parents.

When I was nine years old, The authorities found out that I was never supposed to exist, that my parents had been deemed a genetic risk. Their genes were not likely to support a child who could safely travel off-world or even by some of the faster ways on Earth, something becoming ever more necessary than it had been in years previous. In order to protect me, my parents rewrote their genetic evaluations before I was born. They weren't careful enough and now that the truth had leaked, we were all punishable by death. My parents were tortured for their actions, to see what else they may have found and how they managed to modify the files. They were both killed. I was forced to watch. Because of the missing records they could not see if I was truly a threat, and I was allowed to live, on one condition. I would be watched closely until I was 18 years old. If I could not prove I was not a risk to society, that I deserved to live longer, I would be killed. A few years later, having learned through my own investigation that it was unlikely I would suffer death from the most essential modern transportation and was therefore not a risk, I began to plot. I realized that If someone can do all this to a nine year old boy for a choice he didn't make, then humanity was truly beyond saving, and would destroy itself in time. Being the only one who knew this, it became my only goal to live long enough to give humanity a second chance, far away from this doomed planet, even if there was a chance I might die in the process.

Upon entering the new research facility I am led to where my studies will be taking place, and sign into the spot on the wall labeled with my name. It is explained to me that to keep attachment that could compromise the research to a minimum, all test subjects will be adult volunteers with no familial ties, and I will not know their name, age, gender, and will never directly see them or hear their voice. I will only know them by an identification number. The glass between us will be blurred, and any communication will be through a computer or if necessary, an altered speaker and audio filter. Additional information on test results will be gathered and explained remotely. 

I begin to read the papers on past studies, to get a better idea of how this will work, what to expect, and what I will be in charge of. I learn that in simple terms, the current method of short range teleportation works by gathering information and deconstructing the subject, accelerating the individual particles to the new destination, and using the information to reconstruct the same particles in the new location. In this manner, the subject is essentially the same, as it is made from all the same pieces, assembled in the same way. However, it is not instantaneous, and I wonder how this might translate to the long-distance off-world travel I will need. I continue to leaf through the papers and see the project trial length, an estimated 4-6 months, as well as details on how to conduct each trial, maintain equipment, and clean up any accidents. 

My studies will begin next week.

I wake in a cold sweat, heart racing. The dream will not leave me alone. Every night I see their faces, hear their tortured screams. Every night I see the final blow coming, only to wake up and realize that my nightmare is still here.

On Monday, I arrive at the workspace, and find that the first test subject has arrived, number A297C, along with a folder on my desk containing the necessary information and reports to fill out with the results. After a quick demonstration on the operation equipment from the researcher next door,  I begin my studies. I start with testing the equipment on inanimate objects and birds to make sure it is functioning properly. I then move to the test subject, asking for any information that might be relevant to the test. I try moving them forward a few feet, then back. across the room, back. Into another room, back. Everything goes into my notebook and daily report. Occasionally something goes wrong. Sometimes nothing at all comes through, sometimes a pile of insides or a still corpse. I clean up the mess, modify the equipment, and a new test subject arrives the next morning. Everyday I get closer to leaving it all behind for good. I work from 6 until 9. The rest of my time is used for my own studies, and occasionally sleep. One subject, number A360C, manages to survive for a while. The research goes smoothly for about a month, but something is modified and again something breaks down. They come back through intact, but have gone completely insane, their speech incomprehensible. They are taken away. A few days later, The next subject arrives, the tests start again. 

This one is different.  I can’t quite place it. Number A361C seems to understand what it is I need them to do. This one asks questions. And not in the chat, but over the speaker. I don't answer. 

More time passes, and there are no new accidents. As I work with the newest subject, tests run smoother and faster. I get a better understanding of how the technology works, and anticipate what might go wrong and fix it before it happens. I think less about my project and focus more on the task at hand. I begin to answer their questions. More time passes. I barely have to ask them to move, and yet the mic and speaker are almost always on, and the awkward exchange of modified audio becomes the new normal. Short range teleportation trials are finished, and Long distance tests will begin next week. people come in to change the equipment, but there has been no update on how the long distance will work.

For a brief period of time A361C is taken away, while more extensive testing on the new equipment with smaller objects is done. Things are transported off-world, to the closest colony beyond our solar system. The new equipment is completely foreign, and seems to operate very differently than before. As the birds are used, they seem to come back looking lost or dazed for a few hours, but recover by the end of the day. My subject is brought back in.

It's been a little over a week since the start of the long distance trials and there has still been no update on how long distance teleportation will function. I need to know soon if I'm going to put my plan into action. If no one is going to tell me, I will find out myself. I quietly leave my workspace and turn around the corner, heading for the room where study files are kept. I wait quietly around the corner until the monitor leaves. I walk in, and approach the computer. It was left unlocked. I quickly search for anything useful, bypass the password on the long distance folder, pull the data from a page that looks promising.

Project: long distance human teleportation trial 1

Status: in-progress

Function:

Differs from short range due to recurring issues of delayed arrival and spreading of the particle stream.

To fix this issue, the original object will be scanned thoroughly and destroyed in the process. Only the information about their composition and arrangement will be sent. Receiving portal will use local materials to reconstruct the subject, effectively making an exact copy.

Previous test results (birds): inanimate objects remain largely unchanged. Birds come back seemingly disoriented and frequently unable to remember stimuli introduced prior to experiment.

Expected results:

Minor differences in subject A361C’s active complex structures, particularly the brain. Could cause personality changes or amnesia, similar to that of previous short range tests. Recovery possible,though not likely.

As the information flashes across the screen, confusion and dread sweeps over me. This can’t be the way it works. I double check the password, the file name, reread each sentence. Anything to prove it's a mistake. But as I scan over and over, realization hits me. Long distance teleportation is not the same. It was never supposed to be. This was worse than any accident I had witnessed so far in any of my studies. This was purposeful. At that moment, I realize that I no longer care about my mission to save humanity, I haven't cared in a long time. And not just because I could never get there without becoming someone else. 

As the truth dawns on me, I realize I’ve been here too long. I whirl around to find the monitor has returned, and set off the alarms. They know what I've seen. 

I bolt out of my chair, and begin to run.

I need to save them -whoever they are- from this end.

Or I will be just as cruel as the ones who murdered my parents.

Finally rounding the corner into my lab, I lock the door, searching for something to break the wall dividing the room. I throw my chair at the barrier. It doesn't break, but I manage to mess up the circuitry enough for it to clear slightly. A face looks back at me in alarm. 

Footsteps outside. I don't have time.

“Listen. They are coming, and you need to find a way out of here, fast. Or there probably won't be a you for much longer. What is your name?”

“I…my name is—”

But that is all I hear before they come flooding in through the other side. They shout at me– One says sacrifices have to be made, for the continuation of our species. Before I can react, one of them activates the reconfigured equipment, the others struggling to keep hold of A361C. I yell and reach out–but it's too late. Unable to do anything,

I watch them disappear.