[ WP ] Teleportation is finally invented . Your friend is one of the first people to use it . After coming out on the other side , the more time you spend with him , the more you realize that this is not your friend

He looked at me with the kind of somber eyes he ’ d always had. Calming but penetrating. A man quietly murmuring a compulsive mantra in the back of his mind. A constant reminder that things are okay; but they aren ’ t okay. 
 
 He had been in the decompression chamber a few days already. It ’ s not like he was being punished or anything, so I had no trouble getting access. Hell I could have probably slept there if I really wanted. He was connected all kinds of sensors, measuring vitals, neurological activity, metabolic rate. Really everything possible. Though I mean it ’ s not really surprising, he had just been teleported across the ocean. 
 
 It felt more like he was a diver that had just been brought from the depths of the Marina Trench. Having seen the very most depths of reality, not quite sure how to adequately process it all. Constantly swearing that he was fine. This was all just precautionary nonsense. It wasn ’ t a really big deal at all. He was always a terrible liar. 
 
 I wasn ’ t the first to visit him. I ’ ll admit I was too nervous at first. A few of our friends were there when it all went down. Saw him the moment he appeared back in the US. A millisecond trip from Portugal. Of course we all understood the scientific implication of it all. Well and the philosophical implications as well. 
 
 He wasn ’ t the same person we knew after all. I mean he was, but all the matter that made him up wasn ’ t. Neuron by neuron, cell by cell a perfect replication. I ’ d imagine there were a few moles now misaligned or birthmarks misplaced, but on a fundamental level, the most core structure of his DNA hadn ’ t been altered at all. Well at least everyone had assured us. 
 
 It ’ s kind of fascinating though, how the most basic tenets of our self seem to be tied to the eyes. That little flicker that reminds everyone who we are, so expressively dictated by the way we look, process the world. My hesitation to visit him stemmed from my friend ’ s constant implication that the way he looked at them just seemed off. Like they could see a change in his comprehension through his pupils. 
 
 When I sat down next to him though, he seemed just as troubled as always. Serenely assured of his place in the world, but completely at odds with how people expected him to be. I think that ’ s the key to it all. You can ’ t judge a person ’ s character through their eyes until you fully understand the process going on behind them. To know someone intimately is to understand how they think. 
 
 “ There ’ s this concept I ’ ve been reading about a lot lately, ” he interrupted, butting into my awkward small talk. I was actually pretty relieved. Hoping he ’ d have something to say. I didn ’ t really know how to approach it all. 
 
 “ It ’ s this idea of the gaze, that who we are is so dictated by how others view us. And no not in a pseudo intellectual self-help bullshit kind of way. I ’ m talking about on a metaphysical level. When someone sees you, and makes a judgment about you, they are creating an entity in their mind. A sort of mask that has been placed on you. And the more people you know, the more masks you have. But it ’ s completely out of your control. It ’ s terrifying man. ” 
 
 You could tell he had been pouring through the Sartre starter book teetering ever so precariously on the side table. Something I had sent him back in college after a brief affair with existentialism. Completely full of page markers. To a real extent, the nature of his own existence now a more troubling concept to himself than anyone of us. 
 
 “ But just think about it. ” He went on. “ I am literally a different person now. In every sense of the word. My body isn ’ t mine, the memories; hopes and dreams, that time we went kayaking on the Colorado river during college. That all happened to someone else. And without even realizing it, you are placing this sense of being that is so entrenched in your own mind onto a replica of a human. That ’ s something fucked up right? ” 
 
 That ’ s all bullshit; a thought I initially kept to myself though. Watching his mind turn into a well-oiled mechanism, tied to this notion of being something else. Inauthentic in every way. Or at least to him. I couldn ’ t keep it in any longer. “ There ’ s a reason all that shit went out of fashion in the sixties, man. Look at fuckin Camus, died in a car crash in his prime. You got ta look at the context, post-war France was a shit-hole. Think of all the science that went into making this, it ’ s a goddamn miracle. We ’ re in an age of enlightenment. Who gives a shit that you are not the exact cells you once were? Do you feel like you? ” 
 
 I suppose I regret going off the rails a little in retrospect. I think it ’ s completely fair to have a crisis of existence occasionally. For the non-religious crowd, it ’ s the closest you can get to being re-baptized. He immediately turned inward. 
 “ Fine, fine, you win. It ’ s all bullshit. You happy now? ” 
 
 I left the chamber a little while later. Things got a little tense after that. I visited him a couple more times over the next few weeks, but he gradually became quieter and quieter. It didn ’ t take long for the breakdown to really worsen. I suppose it was always a risk, but they assured he ’ d be fine. It ’ s hard to explain to people that you're grieving over someone in a coma. “ Maybe he ’ ll come out of it. ” They always would say with a sort of morose exuberance. Like they knew that ’ d never happen, but they might as well smile. 
 
 It wasn ’ t so much that he fell apart or anything. Never really lost the most basic faculties that dictate whether you're alive or dead, but lost that which really defines someone on a personal level. And it ’ s weird to be the person to explain it this way now, but you could see it in his eyes. The person who I had grown up with, the person I expected him to be. Could anticipate his thoughts. He slowly disappeared. Eventually becoming a shell. Well sure, I guess that ’ s really the only apt way to describe it. 
 
 He was cells and molecules, neurons and synapses. But he wasn ’ t my friend. And he slowly slipped into a coma. Almost so gradually it was hard to notice. 
 
 The official press release stated, `` known risks'' and promised `` incredible new research'' that his loss would not be in vain. Or so that's what they told us. 
 
 
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