The Away Team Leader explains Transporter Technology

by Brittany Hause

In the selfsame instant, one body

’s torn apart, another frame

assembled. You could say I jump

from form to form, I being

my consciousness, the unique pat

tern of my thoughts, my

memories, or my convictions—

or, if you like, my soul. An ancient

term, but one that works

as well as any other. This is how

my people, generally, describe

the event of transportation, concept

ualize the deed: after all, it’s

right there in the name. But can the soul

really be split from body, mind

from brain? Am I not

a distinct individual from the man who

stepped onto the ship’s trans

porter pad, worked

in his image from all-new materials

just as the proof’s de

stroyed? Had he not been unmade

the moment I was made,

wouldn't it be clear that we

’re two beings, us, two lives—not

one? I think so, and be

lieve he would agree, though

there’s no way for us to ask him now,

of course. He’s gone. Still, he knew what

he was getting into when he

volunteered to take this mission. I

know, because his memories, up to his

final breath, are all mine

now, his choices mine, his triumphs

and regrets. I know him

at least as well as he knew him

self; in that sense, you could argue I

was him, until his dis

solution. I kissed his spouses goodbye

stationside, before the shuttle out. I

volunteered him for this duty, I put him on

that pad. And now I stand before you,

asking only that we talk. No great request

(I hope that you’ll agree), considering


I killed someone to get here.