[ 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

The press was everywhere that morning. Outside our hotel door. Crammed in the elevator like sheep bleating questions. Chasing us like foxes as we navigated through the hotel lobby. All this attention made me very uncomfortable. 
 `` Mr. Rice, Mr. Rice!'' A reporter shouted from the mob that moved with us as we walked, `` thoughts on today? Are you nervous? What if something goes wrong?'' Glen raised his eyebrows and gave a small wave as if to say `` good question, asshole.'' We stepped briskly out to the curb to the black town car awaiting us. A thick man in a dark suit opened the rear door and we climbed in. 
 
 `` Wow.'' Glen muttered. `` Yeah... wow.'' I replied, sitting down, `` today is really going to be somethin' else.'' I always knew Glen would be the one chosen to be on the cutting edge of science. Even in high school together, he was always the one doing something no one had done before. Nineteen years later and I still thought he was a rockstar. Brilliant, handsome, charismatic. The way he took everything in stride made Denzel Washington look like Steve Harvey. 
 
 As we pulled up to the facility, I felt a horrible knot in my stomach. `` Now??'' I thought; frantically trying to assess the sudden pressure in my abdomen. `` Do I really have to go number two -- RIGHT BEFORE -- Glen gets in that thing??'' I held my breath, sweat forming at my brow. `` Maybe it will just... resolve itself,'' I thought. As I clenched tightly to avoid anything dastardly escaping, Glen grabbed the handle and pushed open his door. `` It's time,'' he said. `` And do n't worry if you miss the first part, just be there when I come out on the other side,'' he replied wryly, glancing down at my stomach. `` It'll be a short one,'' I threw back sarcastically. 
 
 But it was n't. As soon as we got in the building, Glen and his entourage went back to the testing area and I hurried off to find the men's room. `` Of all the days'' I thought sighing to myself, `` why did it have to be today.'' I was worried for my friend. Teleportation is a scary and confusing process. I had spent dinner with Glen last night as he explained all the steps and reactions and physics behind the transport. And I spent dinner wolfing down my mushroom and swiss. Acceleration. Splitting. Re-organization. Melted cheese and Angus beef. Maybe I could have paid more attention. 
 
 Thirty-eight minutes later I emerge from the throne victorious and go off in search of Glen. I spent five minutes struggling through reporters, flashing my credentials at anyone who looked my way shouting, `` I'm Ricky... Ric- GLEN'S FRIEND! Yeah!'' After one last security inspection, I was permitted into the viewing area. It looked more like an operating theater. Separated by a large window was a small room complete with an examination table covered in white linen. The room was completely white with a door on the far side. 
 
 Five minutes went by. Ten minutes went by. Suddenly, the lights flicker. Moments later, I hear applause down the hall. A success. I hear people moving outside the viewing room, excited shouts, questions flying. And then I see the door swing open to the viewing room. An orderly dressed in white escorts Glen into the room and beckons him to sit. 
 
 `` Glen!'' I shout, stepping closer to the glass barrier, `` how did it go?!'' I wait cautiously, perhaps he ca n't hear me through the glass. `` Glen?'' I say again. `` How did it go, man?'' He raises his head slowly from the table, looks me dead in the eye and mouths the words, `` Help me.'' Ice runs through my veins. `` Help you?'' I say back. He does n't respond. Instead he stands and lumbers towards me, taking long uneven strides, unlike his normal walk. `` Help me,'' He says again. His voice is gruff, his eyes are off. I start to panic. `` Glen! Whatever it is buddy I can help you, just please tell me what happened.'' My hands and face are pressed against the glass, begging him to come closer, to let me in, to tell me what happened. My breaths are short and gasping -- something is wrong, this is NOT my friend. 
 
 He is almost to the glass now. He drools as he places on hand against the glass and looks at me, with a vacant, uncaring gaze. `` Help me'' he lolls one last time. It looks like he ca n't breathe, he's panting harder now. `` What?!'' I scream, `` tell me what you need!'' He watches the tears roll down my face and presses his face against mine, only a few millimeters of plexiglass separating me from not-Glen. He opens his mouth and whispers...'' I need about tree-fiddy.'' 

