The world celebrated when teleportation became reality. No more tedious flights, no more endless layovers. Just step into a pod, and within minutes, arrive at your destination.

John Colter was among the millions eager to experience the future. His first trip: San Francisco to Tokyo. Reports described the process as painless, with only a fleeting sense of unease. The efficiency was staggering—airports had been transformed into teleportation hubs.

Powering these hubs was a revolutionary new bio-reactor system. Each city with a teleportation hub not only became a global destination but also reaped the benefits of excess clean energy. Municipalities worldwide scrambled to be added to the waiting list.

The mastermind behind the technology, Viktor Stahler, had seemingly come out of nowhere.
A descendant of a German scientist granted asylum after World War II, Stahler’s lineage carried whispers of dark experimentation. But no one dwelled on that. The future was here.

John stepped into the teleportation pod, dressed in the standard travel uniform—thin, striped, pajama-like garments. The fabric, designed to be 100% recyclable, was remarkably soft.

Sparks danced, light enveloped him, and the world shifted.

As the glow faded, he braced for the dazzling skyline of Tokyo. Instead, darkness surrounded him.

He stood in a vast warehouse, stretching endlessly into the shadows. Rows upon rows of cages lined the space, each containing motionless human bodies, neatly stacked by robotic arms.

They weren’t dead—but they weren’t awake either.

A sickening silence filled the air.

John scrambled out of the cage he had inexplicably arrived in, dropping to the cold metal floor. His breath came in ragged gasps. He noticed a scrap of paper on the ground, covered in German writing, he picked it up. He didn’t understand the words, but they chilled him nonetheless.

Unthinking, he reached out and touched one of the motionless bodies with the paper in his hand, accidentally giving it a small paper cut.

The reaction was immediate. The body screamed to life in pure agony. A robot whirred to attention, gliding toward them. Before John could react, a mechanical arm extended with a calming blue light and efficiently dispatched the newly awakened human.

John didn’t move. The robot ignored him.

At the far end of the warehouse, he spotted a doorway illuminated by a faint, flickering light. He moved as quickly and quietly as he could. As he passed by another massive machine, he recoiled—bodies were being fed into it. A loud grinding echoed, accompanied by the acrid stench of burning flesh and a deafening mechanical hum.

He reached the door and slipped outside, finding himself in a secure industrial yard. A large automated dump truck sat idling nearby, filled with grayish ash. Without thinking, he climbed inside, burying himself beneath the remains of countless others.

The truck rumbled to life, carrying him out of the facility and onto a road. As soon as he felt safe, he leapt out, rolling onto the wet pavement. The truck continued on, oblivious. As he rose, he saw words printed on the side of the vehicle: “Elektrizitätskraftwerk.”

Rain pelted him, washing away the ashes. He stumbled to an automated taxi stand, only to find his credits blocked. “Unauthorized” read the kiosk.

A car stopped beside him, its passengers concerned about his appearance and strange attire. He fabricated a story—his car had broken down just before the rain. They took pity and drove him home.
When he arrived at his apartment, the retinal scanner granted him access. A small comfort. But as he stepped inside, he froze.

The heater was on. He had set it to vacation mode before leaving.

A man stood in his living room, a steaming cup of coffee slipping from his hands and shattering on the floor.
John’s heart nearly stopped.

Because…… the man was him.

They stared at each other in silent horror, mirroring each other’s shock. Finally, John whispered, “You’re me.”

The other man’s voice trembled. “No… you are me.”

John swallowed hard. “Everything was fine until I left for Tokyo.”

The other John’s eyes narrowed. “I went to Tokyo this morning and teleported back this evening.”

John’s blood ran cold. “I teleported too… but I never made it to Tokyo. I woke up in a warehouse.”

They compared memories, cross-referencing every detail.

Piece by piece, the truth unraveled. Their lives had been identical—until the moment of teleportation. One had arrived safely in Tokyo. The other had been discarded like waste.

The second incarnation of John had noticed only one oddity: his banking credentials had been flagged for fraud after teleportation. The first John had tried to access them but was denied. That was the only sign that something had gone horribly wrong.

They delved into research. The deeper they went, the more disturbing the truth became.

Viktor Stahler was hailed as a prodigy. Whispers of his grandfather’s involvement in secret Nazi teleportation experiments were dismissed as old rumors. Yet, peculiar historical anomalies remained—during World War II, entire German villages had inexplicably seen surges in livestock populations, particularly rabbits and chickens. At the time, it was written off as coincidence.

But now…

John’s stomach twisted. What if teleportation never moved an organism? What if it only duplicated it? The originals had to be destroyed.

It made sense. The Nazis’ “Blitzkrieg” strategy had always been credited to their rapid troop movement. But what if their real secret was teleportation? What if they had been duplicating soldiers and eliminating the originals? The extermination camps weren’t just for persecuted groups—they had been disposing of their own troops, the discarded copies.

And now, millions of people were using teleportation daily.
Millions of bodies, needing disposal.

John clenched his fists. He had woken up when he shouldn’t have. He was an anomaly, proof of the horrific truth.
He tried to remember the word on the side of the truck. What was it ? “kraftywerk”, “kedinglerwerk”. He just couldn’t remember.

They had to retrace the path of the dump truck, find the facility again. They returned to the old airport, now a teleportation hub. In the foggy darkness, headlights emerged. An automated truck approached.
Too late, they realized it wasn’t slowing down.

The impact was sudden. Their car crumpled like paper.

Within seconds, drones arrived.

Dazed and disoriented, their heads throbbed from the collision. Through the smoke and twisted metal, they caught sight of the truck’s side panel.

“Elektrizitätskraftwerk.”

Translated, it meant… “Electric Power Plant.”

They lay motionless, struggling to catch their breath. A drone swooped down, its voice calm and mechanical.

“Remain still. Medical personnel have been summoned. I will tend to your wounds.”

A calming blue light descended from the drone’s mechanical arm.