[ 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 .

The odd thing about teleporting is that it is not instantaneous. Rather, it takes between 10 and 1,000 seconds to materialize on the other side depending on the distance traveled. This usually leaves plenty of time to think about what your business is, or just zone out as I usually did. As you started to materialize, you would begin to see more and more of the world until you finally realized that you were whole again, and the attendant was desperately waving you off the pad. This was, much to my embarrassment, exactly what happened when I arrived at New Hope Medical Clinic in Pennsylvania. 
 
 Jumping off the pad I greeted the attendant, discussed my meeting with the pretty, blonde receptionist, and then followed an orderly back to Professor Alan Templeton ’ s room. He had been responsible for the creation of the teleportation device that I had just used, but shortly thereafter he had gone insane. His psychosis centered on straight lines and sharp angles, and no one had yet been able to figure out why. 
 
 As the years went by, more people started to show up with the similar symptoms until it was officially named Transporter Psychosis. It affected approximately 1 in a 1,000,000,000 people, and was therefore still considered safer than flying. Approximately 26 total cases had ever been observed on Earth and in the Colonies. 
 
 As we approached the room, the orderly stopped me and ushered me into a smaller room. “ Put these on please, ” he said, holding out a pair of clothes. 
 
 “ Excuse me? ” I asked. I knew my tweed jacket and slacks were a little outdated, but this seemed offensive. 
 
 “ It ’ s the lines, Sir, ” the orderly explained in a very bored voice, “ Your clothes have straight lines on them. ” 
 
 I paused, stared at my clothing, and then looked at the ones the orderly was holding. Even the stitching had been done using smooth, flowing lines rather than straight ones. Nodding, I disrobed and put on the new clothes. The orderly nodded, and led me to a round door at the end of the hall. “ Fifteen minutes, Sir. ” I nodded and went inside. 
 
 Once inside I saw a dome shaped room with every corner having been smoothed out. I recognized Alan Templeton sitting on a bean bag chair on the far end writing away on some circular paper. Apparently his fear of straight lines had not been exaggerated. 
 
 “ Come in, come in, ” Professor Templeton said as he waved me over to another chair. “ I assume you ’ re another vulture here to ask about Transporter Psychosis? ” 
 
 “ Uh, yes? ” I managed to say. He certainly didn ’ t seem crazy. 
 
 Professor Templeton looked up at me, his white hair carefully combed back from his face, and his beard neatly trimmed. The orderlies had said while he could shave himself, he couldn ’ t bear to hold the razor. “ Of course I don ’ t seem crazy. Now sit down and ask your questions, ” he said as he went back to scribbling. 
 
 Sitting in the bean bag chair I attempted to organize my thoughts into a good interview. Before I got a chance, Professor Templeton suddenly thrust his hand into my face, held up four fingers and asked, “ How many fingers do you see? ” 
 
 “ Uh, four? ” I asked. 
 
 Professor Templeton looked at his hand, huffed, and said, “ Bah, four, you ’ re just like the rest of them, then. ” 
 
 “ Wrong answer? ” I asked, curious as to where he had been going with that. 
 
 He waved his hand dismissively at me, “ You see, but you don ’ t really see, now ask your questions. ” 
 
 I coughed lightly, and pressed record on the hidden recorder I had in my pocket. “ Professor, before we get started I would just like you to verify who you are please. ” 
 
 He looked up at me, a frown heavy on his face, “ Professor Alan Templeton, professor in Theoretical Physics and inventor of the Teleporter. I was born August 31st, 2025. I have a mole on my left ass cheek that no one else knows about other than my mother, my wife, and four women in Barcelona. ” 
 
 I started to laugh at his last comment until I realized that he hadn ’ t been joking. I coughed to attempt to cover myself and pushed forward, “ Professor, your psychosis— “ 
 
 “ It ’ s not a psychosis! ” he shouted, interrupted me. Jumping up from his chair he began to pace around the room. “ You reporters are like vultures; coming here to feast upon my words like eyeballs, but none of you really listen! ” 
 
 “ The lines! ” he shouted, pointing past his door. “ The lines are the problem, not me. ” 
 
 Feeling brave I ventured, “ But what about sharp angles? Those aren ’ t lines? ” 
 
 The Professor turned and looked at me with scorn, like a parent who has caught their child in an act of pure stupidity, “ What are angles, son? ” 
 
 I paused, thinking back to math class, “ They form when two lines— “ 
 
 “ When two *lines* meet, yes. ” He walked back over to his chair and sat down with a huff. “ There you have it. ” 
 
 “ There I have what? ” 
 
 He looked at me again like I was fool. “ The lines are the problem, not the angles. ” 
 
 A small staring contest ensued until I finally decided to look away as if to collect my thoughts. “ Professor, what do you think caused your psychosis? ” 
 
 “ Why do you think they call it ‘ Transporter Psychosis ’? You can ’ t get it unless you ride the teleporters, ” he said, the look of scorn not rising from his face. 
 
 I mentally slapped myself and pushed forward, “ Yes, but what about the teleporters causes it? ” 
 
 The Professor opened his mouth as it to answer with a snide remark and then paused, his mouth hanging open. After a long moment he shut it and his features softened, “ Son, do you like birthday presents? ” he asked. 
 
 “ Yes, of course. ” 
 
 “ What would happen if I told you what was in there before you opened it? ” 
 
 I thought for a moment, “ It would ruin the surprise? ” 
 
 Shaking his head he responded, “ No, no, what else would it do? ” 
 
 I opened my mouth to question his line of thinking, but seeing the sincerity on his face I decided to give it some real thought. Unfortunately, after several minutes, the only thing I could come up with was that it would ruin the surprise, so I told him as much. 
 
 The Professor looked at me disappointed, “ And that ’ s why you will never understand the ‘ psychosis; ’ why no one will. ” 
 
 I opened my mouth to ask another question when the orderly quietly opened the door and informed me that it was time to leave. Nodding, I rose, thanked Professor Templeton for his time, and walked out of his room feeling very unfulfilled. 
 
 After I had changed and signed out, I set the teleporter for my home city and mulled back over the conversation. It would be about 8 minutes before I returned to a normal state, so I had a few minutes to myself. As I thought about the birthday present analogy he had tried to make, I looked around for the first time in a long time and noticed all the smooth, swirly shapes that seemed to be present. When I was a child I had noticed them and commented, and my father had tried to explain them to me, but it just confused me. It was almost like a fluid Mandelbrot set, with only circles and swirls all the way down. 
 
 As I was beginning to materialize in Transporter Receiving I saw it: a harsh, straight, solid line that shot through everything, leaving turbulence in its wake. As I continued to materialize, I noticed that it had been someone else materializing in another loading pad, but that was not what caught my eye. 
 
 It was the blackness through that line that startled me; the unfettered reality that seemed to ooze out of the cracks, bleeding in with our own and corrupting it. It was a chaos that we were slowly letting creep into our own reality every time we used the transporters, corrupting it. We were the instruments of our own demise, and we hailed it for its convenience. 
 
 As I stepped off the landing pad I tried to shake off the feeling, but every line, every edge that I looked at just screamed at me. It felt as if I pushed too hard on a corner, I would slip and fall into the chaos I had seen beyond. As I started to scream, I realized what Professor Templeton had meant about the birthday present.
