[ WP ] After inventing and successfully testing a method of teleportation , the inventor develops a phobia of seeing or feeling straight edges and sharp angles . You 're a reporter interviewing the inventor in her specially outfitted room at a private psychiatric facility . You discover she 's not crazy .

`` Dr. Fer, stay with me!'' I shouted in vain. His face had drained of colour and he started babbling some incomprehensible phrase. `` Great'' I thought to myself. I had spent the best part of an hour interviewing him, and every time I got even close he would go into this trance-like state. 
 
 I stood up and turned to leave. He was useless now. However, just as I was leaving he spoke again. 
 
 `` It's not what they say.'' 
 
 I turned around to face him. 
 
 `` What's not what they say? And who are they?'' 
 
 His face, old and wrinkled, bore a grin. `` The teleportation device was a success. You know that. I know that. It was perfect in every way. But it did n't end up being perfect. 
 
 It started, oh I'd say twenty years ago. When I first started working on the project. Project T.A.V.P.U, I think that was what they called it. Something about transporting atoms through universes. Well, I started building the machine. Figuring out the physics as we went along. After, a good few months, we'd made some progress, but in the wrong direction. The parallel universe theory was bullshit. So we came up with another plan. This time it was something slightly more drastic. 
 
 We needed a relay for it to work. Originally meant to be a satellite, we'd simply beam the atoms up to the satellite, then beam them back down again. Easy as pie. Well turns out our grant was cut down. We were left with barely any money. We had barely enough to continue the project. We even had to steal pipes from the scrapyard. Do you realise how humiliating it was, for me, an esteemed scientist, to steal from a scrap heap? Well-'' 
 
 His sentence was cut short by his body beginning to tremor. His eyes rolled back, and he kept repeating some unintelligible phrase. I was about to call for help, when he suddenly stopped, as if nothing happened. 
 
 He began to speak again. `` Well we finished the machine. It took fifteen long years, but we did it. It was a prototype, but I thought it was beautiful. I had created the most important piece of human technology ever made. I vividly remember it shining, radiating an aura of pure brilliance. And I had helped to make it. However, we still needed a quick fix to the problem of a relay. the relay-'' 
 
 Again his body shook, and he turned his head up and started repeating a his phrase again. However, I could just make out a sequence of As, and possibly some Gs. 
 
 After a couple of seconds he calmed down, and spoke, but his voice seemed more hoarse this time. `` The relay of course was a problem, but we had come up with a quick fix. A temporary fix. I know this sounds barbaric, but we needed a human to be the relay for now. It was simple- it would give the DNA a rough template to form, then the teleporter could work through the rest. Sounds horrible, inhumane, but hey, we used a braindead person. He would n't be able to feel, we'd have our temporary relay. And it worked. Marvellously. The only problem was that, after a while, we realised-'' 
 
 Dr. Fer shook more violently this time, convulsing in agony, screaming a phrase. I made out `` ACT G...'' then a repetition of this of sorts. He took longer this time to return to his calm self, and seemed out of breath, and visibly traumatised. 
 
 `` We realised he was n't fully braindead. And no, do n't cut me off yet! There's more. I know it sounds horrible, but we kept using him. Over and over again. We teleported ourselves more and more. Only to discover something. We knew our patient had put himself in the coma, as he slit his own wrists. And somehow, he incorporated that into the DNA sequence we sent through him. Sharp corners and edges became more and more appealing to us. We were drawn to them, like a dog is to fresh meat.'' 
 
 He paused, with a harrowed look in his eyes. 
 
 `` Twelve of my team died. They all slit their own wrists. Just as the patient had.'' 
 
 He looked at me, tears welling up. 
 
 `` And yet the facility still wanted to use the machine. I tried to stop them, but they would n't listen. So, think about it. Millions of billions of people, all about to be relayed through this poor man's head. All of them would kill themselves. We had n't created a teleporter. We'd created a device for mass genocide. So we did the only thing we could do.'' 
 
 He stopped and looked me in the eyes. 
 
 He said, in a whispery ghostly voice `` I became the relay.'' 
 
 He shuddered, and began convulsing, more and more violently. I turned to run, shouting for help. All I could hear from behind me were screams of a sequence. A sequence that would haunt me forever. 
 
 `` ATG! ACG! GTC!...''
