Learning Curve

There was no window. Dr. Merril made a mental note to have windows put in all the booths before going public. Windows and a name, he thought, laying in the booth. He'd just travelled across the continent in a fraction of a second, had been doing so for months, but nobody on his team could come up with a name that wasn't already trademarked by a zealous entertianment company. He chuckled and made another mental note to ask marketing if they had a name. The technician should be opening the booth to let him out at any second.

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Tom looked out the window at the technician. He was supposed to travel to New York, but the safety protocols mandated a local test every day. Someone had forgotten to disconnect the secondary local booth afterwards. It wasn't a problem, really. The technician could send him from here once they verified that the New York booth was closed. At least this booth had windows. The thought of sitting in the dark made him chuckle as he watched the technician disconnect the local test cabling. The technician turned and gave him a thumbs up, before pressing the send button.

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A fraction of a second passed before the disfigured remains of Dr. Tom Merril weighed twice what they should have. The safety protocols were modified within hours.

Goe, la di di, di di di da.