Mike Williams

There have been lots of stories about the dangers of teleportation and futuristic travels. This story was something that came to me one night while I was struggling to fall asleep. I thought about bizarre things and this is what came of it. I hope you enjoy it.

Artwork by Adobe Firefly

The Portal Paradox

The needle settled around the high end of two hundred amperes. It usually settled around one hundred and fifty. Dr. Richard Orland scratched his beard and began the process of wondering whether or not using the transporter was safe when the amp (short for ampere) reading was so high. He never had an issue up until now. Richard and his assistant Reggie Riot had logged at least 500 hours in the system and so far, so good. Riot wasn’t his real last name. Richard was certain of that.

The portal or “transporter” was an amazing invention. Dr. Orland had tried his best to keep it quiet during the trials but word got out and pretty soon all of the details about this amazing new invention were all over the internet, newspapers, and Twitter. It was supposed to be X now but it would always be Twitter to Richard. Both he and his assistant had become prisoners in their own lab. They couldn’t go anywhere like normal people.

Perhaps this was a good thing. It gave them more time to test the machine so two hundred tests quickly become five hundred. The transporter was becoming proven technology. Who would he sell it to? How much would he charge for it? These were questions he didn’t care to think about right now. Dr. Richard Orland was a quiet man. He was never quick to raise his voice or a fist. Drama in any form was something that he walked away from.

Right now, Nancy was waiting for him in Paris. Normal transportation from London to Paris wasn’t too bad. Transportation using his new invention made the trip take mere seconds. He looked down at his watch. He had twenty minutes to step through the portal and meet up with his current love.

The amps were a bit too high and this bothered him. He had conducted all of the standard tests and even had Reggie go through them as well. Everything looked perfectly normal except of course, the amp problem. He could call off the date. The scientific part of his mind wanted him to do just that. Call off the date and figure out what the issue was with this glorious device. His heart, on the other hand, wanted something else.

Reggie looked over at Richard. “It’s your decision, boss,” He said. Richard returned his gaze. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting the tests. I haven’t seen Nancy in a few days. I’d really like to go.” Reggie waved his hands. “Well, its decided then. Off you go Doctor.” Reggie’s hand movements directed Dr. Orland towards the eight foot high ring in the back of the lab.

Reggie stood at the control console while Richard stepped inside. No more words spoken. Just a few computer beeps as Reggie punched in the destination and hit the red “Engage” switch with his right thumb. There was a quick flash and Doctor Richard Orland was gone. Reggie spoke to himself. “I knew this thing was good to go.”

The trip through the portal was usually instantaneous, but this time things seemed to take a bit longer. When the white light in his eyes faded, he was staring at two copies of himself. He tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing. One of them was laughing while the other one was extremely quiet. He glanced down the alley to see another copy of him walking with Nancy.

He went to great lengths to keep the controls on this portal hidden but had someone discovered them and tampered with it? At the moment, he had more questions than answers. What was painfully obvious however, was that something was seriously wrong with his machine. The thought of being with Nancy quickly faded away.

Richard reset the transporter for a return trip back to his lab in London. He stood inside the ring. The machine beeped. The machine kept beeping with no transport function taking place. He stepped out of the ring and looked down at the console. The error message was something he had never seen before. It read, “Error 713 – Missing Key Components for Successful Transport.” What the fuck did that mean? He thought to himself. He looked up at the other copies standing near him. He didn’t remember writing that error message. Perhaps, an AI contribution from Reggie?

It only took him a few seconds to realize what the machine was saying. The copies had to go through as well. What kind of weirdness was this? He motioned to the other copies to step into the ring. He activated the console and joined them inside the ring. Once again, the machine beeped. The transport didn’t activate and a warning sound could be heard from the console. Richard glanced down at it. “Error 713 – Missing Key Components for Successful Transport.” Shit!

There was that copy that ran off with Nancy. He’d never find him in time. He just wanted to get back to his lab. He could take ground transportation but that would take longer than he was willing to deal with. He basically had 75% of himself if this thing actually did split him apart. He wasn’t sure what each piece represented. One of the clones seemed to be extremely happy about everything. The other clone just stared at nothing in particular without making any sounds. This whole thing didn’t make sense. The next idea that popped into his mind was to reprogram the console to accept the pieces that he had.

The two other clones didn’t seem to want to help him but that was ok. He didn’t need their help anyway. He logged into the console and began rewriting the security protocols. After “commenting out” a few lines of code, he was ready to try the portal once again. He looked at both of the copies before him. “I’m not 100% sure this will work. There is a risk but since we’re all the same person, I think, we should be fine.” He didn’t feel that way inside but sometimes you just had to say the words in hopes that someone or anyone will believe it. Even if that is yourself.

The clones stepped into the ring and after a happy computer sound, the three versions of Doctor Richard Orland vanished. In London, the other ring flashed a bright white color as a single version of Doctor Orland stepped out of the portal. “How was your date? That didn’t seem to take very long.” Reggie said. Doctor Orland looked around the lab. No clones. He looked back up at Reggie. “The strangest thing just happened to me on the other side.” He began.

It was approaching evening as the lone copy of Doctor Richard Orland stepped onto the sidewalk outside of Nancy Garnier’s small but cozy flat. He face was dark and emotionless. This city was full of possibilities. What shall he do next? He had no intention of ever stepping back into that portal machine. No. He had other plans. He looked down the street quickly in both directions. He was looking for something very specific. Oh, there it was. Thank goodness they light these things up. He began walking toward it.

Doctor Orland approached the police call box and picked up the phone. How old fashioned? He thought. He wasn’t sure how to activate the phone. Did it automatically dial? He knew how to operate London’s phones. There was a click and a voice speaking french. “Quelle est votre urgence,” the female voice said. Without missing a beat Richard responded, “I’d like to report a murder.”

I often wonder what the future will be like long after I am gone. As a fan of science fiction, it isn’t hard to see where my thoughts would gravitate to. This story is based on mankind being able to do one thing but not the other. I feel like this would be the reality but who really knows? Without further ado, here is this week’s tale.

Artwork by Adobe Firefly

Galactic Postman

Station Marcus was the last message station between Earth’s home solar system and the Ragnar Minor System some 300 light years away. Ships could travel faster than light these days but the messages between worlds could not. Messengers and their space craft were required to carry message traffic between worlds. Samuel Reva could not think of any other job in the solar system that he would rather do than be one of only a few “Galactic Postman.”

Sam started his day with making the small trip from Earth to the message station. He thought about living aboard the station but Earth was so beautiful and open. Being cramped in a spacecraft to make his daily run was about all he could take before faint traces of claustrophobia would kick in and his anxiety would start to rise. Making the run to Ragnar Minor and back. It was just the right size trip for Samuel Reva.

The control tower signaled clearance for Sam to take the Pulsar 779 spacecraft out of the dock and into space. The station hanger was quite large and could accommodate various sizes of spacecraft from small courier vessels like the Pulsar series to the bigger space cruisers like the Titan IV. An intermittent blinking light on the console reminded Sam to acknowledge his digital cargo. A part of the procedure he felt was designed to remind them of why they were there and what they were supposed to do. He pressed the indicator and set a course for Ragnar Minor. It was an exercise he felt he had done a thousand times before.

One minute and twelve seconds later, the Pulsar 779 spacecraft that Sam had affectionately named “Miranda” fired up the hyperdrive and disappeared into the blackness of space. Gravity drives and dampening fields made this journey a relatively easy one. From the cockpit, the stars whizzed by at tremendous speeds while the navigation system constantly scanned ahead for obstacles. One wrong piece of anything in Sam’s path would be catastrophic to the little space ship. He often wondered while staring at the view about how long folks like him would be needed. With all of the advancements that humanity has made, surely communications between star systems couldn’t be that far from reality?

The emergency sirens began bellowing as Sam’s space ship fell out of hyperspace with a jarring motion that he didn’t think was possible. This had never happened before. Why did he drop out of hyperspace? After hitting a few buttons on his main console, it didn’t take Sam long to figure out why his ship came out of hyperspace. Ahead of his Pulsar 779 to the tune of roughly 2 million kilometers, was a large amount of military space craft. He could pick out everything from fighters to corvettes. He knew there was a war between two nearby colonies but hadn’t suspected that it had grown to this magnitude.

The console beeped to inform Sam that an errant missile had locked on to his craft and was bearing down on him. He had three minutes to figure out what to do. The first thing Sam did was to activate his distress beacon. At least if anything happened to him, the craft or what was left of it could be located and cargo retrieved. Couriers were supposed to be safe out here. He wondered why they would fire at him. His mind was running like a runner around a track. He needed to figure out what to do. His ship wasn’t designed for combat. Hell, he didn’t even have shields.

The only defense that Sam could think of was to try to move the ship out of the way at the last minute. With some hope, the missile wouldn’t be able to reacquire his ship but that was only speculation. He began scanning the area for a place to set down if he needed to. The idea also crossed his mind to eject the cargo. The data storage module had its own beacon so it would eventually be found by someone. There was only about a minute until impact now.

Sam made damn sure the right finger was on the right button as he prepared to move aside at the last moment before impact. The sweat collected on his collar and on his brow. He quickly wiped it off and then began counting down. Five, four, three, two, one…

The ship quickly jerked to the right and the missile barely clipped the space craft. Sam was knocked off his feet by the force of the missile’s thrust. Several harrowing seconds went by as Sam tried to access the situation. He was still in one piece. The missile probably traded paint with his craft but thankfully, did not impact. He felt like the luckiest person alive. His immediate space was clear and he could still see the battle raging in front of him. A corvette burst into pieces as missile after missile struck. Little blips of light were visible as fighters winked out of existence.

“Well, shit!”, Sam said out loud when he saw that the ship had automatically ejected the data core. He didn’t know the ship was capable of that. It was certainly never brought up with the senior staff. Now, he would be forced to make a decision about where to go. Was it closer to Marcus station or Ragnar Minor?

Sam began calculating a course away from the fighting. He’d have to move out to a distance of several million kilometers before he could make the jump to which ever station was closest. He didn’t have the equipment to retrieve the data core. A pair of simple grappler arms would have come in handy right about now. He lined up on the brighter of the two stars on the left and began moving his ship in that direction.

Two kilometers from “Miranda” a faint blue color radiated from the rear of the cylindrical object. The blue hue gained in intensity as the main engine spun up once again to continue the mission and make a Pulsar 779 space craft, nonexistent. On “Miranda”, a red light began blinking on the main console. A weary Galactic Postman looked up and into the space ahead of him.

“Well, shit.”