3

June 4, 2025
6:45 a.m.
Antarctica

He stared down at the tiny lights twinkling on the ground below, slowly growing larger as the helicopter descended. It was the first sign of civilization he had seen for several hours, but his mind was elsewhere. He rested his head on the window, groggy from whatever sleep he had managed in his uncomfortable seat.

“We should be on the ground shortly,” the muffled voice rattled through his headphones. He turned and looked back at his teammates; Wilkins asleep, Emery scribbling something in her notebook, Phillips surveying the vast frozen darkness with childlike wonder. Silberman smiled at them with maniacal joy. “Now the real adventure begins,” he said into his headset, sending a visible jolt of energy through the group.

The helicopter landed and they disembarked, lugging hefty suitcases along behind them. The wind slashed at their bodies, cutting through their coats as they tread forward through the frigid twilight. Silberman searched the dark landscape and noticed a small man standing a few yards off the landing pad. He was wearing a bright orange winter jacket, but his face and hands appeared to be bare. Silberman wondered how the man could bear the feeling of pure cold on his naked skin. As they came closer, he noticed an odd expression covering his face, one Silberman could not place. The man stuck his hand out jovially.

“Dr. Silberman, right?” he shouted over the roaring helicopter blades.

“Yes, that’s me,” Silberman shouted back, his voice stifled by the scarf covering his face. He reached out and grabbed the man’s hand, shaking it perfunctorily.

“And is this your team?” he asked, inspecting the other three members of the group.

“We can skip the introductions for now, let’s get inside!” Silberman answered shortly. “Where are we going?”

The man laughed apologetically. “Sorry about that, follow me.” He took off down the dark gravel road, heading toward the distant buildings Silberman had observed from the sky. The group hustled through the bitter gusts of wind, time feeling as frozen as the ground beneath them. Silberman counted his steps in an attempt to distract himself from the cold, but it did not help. A world away, they reached their destination.

The red metal walls were barely visible in the hazy morning darkness. Faint yellow light shone through the window, just enough to cast a skewed rectangular glow on the snow outside. Silberman ran up to the door and swung it open, hurrying the group inside before slamming it shut and falling to the floor. Warmth. He smiled and began to remove the scarf from his neck. “Alright then, where were we?”

“I’m Sam,” Wilkins piped up, pulling off his gloves and shaking hands with their new acquaintance.

“Julia,” said Phillips, smiling and waving as she fumbled with her coat zipper.

Emery, already de-bundled, reached out her hand. “And I’m Alison. Pleasure to meet you.” She gave him a nod as they shook. “And what’s your name?”

“Well, my name is Jason, but everyone calls me ‘Smirk’ on account of my face.” He pointed to his mouth; his lips were contorted into a half-smile on the left and a half-frown on the right. “It’s kinda stuck like this.” He laughed. “The nickname used to bother me, but I don’t mind it so much anymore.”

Wilkins looked down at him with a puzzled sort of awe. “Do you live down here?”

Smirk puffed out his chest. “One of the first ever permanent residents!”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but... why?”

“Why does anyone live anywhere? I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I like it here.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“Better question is, why are you here?”

Silberman’s ears perked up. He stopped untying his boots and rose to his feet, excited for an opportunity to talk about his work. “We are building a device that allows matter to travel as data.”

Smirk was incredulous. “So... teleportation?”

Silberman sighed. “No, it’s not teleportation. Everybody thinks it’s teleportation. It is simply electronic transportation.”

“But... how do you turn an object into data?”

Emery smiled, eager to answer his question. “We take a deep image of the subject and map every single particle to its representation in code. This deep scan condenses the matter into a transferrable state. The specifics are difficult to explain, but that’s the gist of it.”

“And then you take that data and use it to build a copy of the object? What happens to the original?”

Silberman shook his head. “It is not a copy. It is the object. The object is transferred as data, but it remains completely intact.”

“So the original object is destroyed?”

“It is not a destructive process. I can’t get into all of the subtleties of quantum mechanics right now, but the matter is preserved at the quantum level.”

“How do you reconstruct it?”

“The synthesis process uses a chemical compound that matches the matter of the object and rebuilds it atom by atom, particle by particle.”

“So... it’s like 3D printing?”

Silberman hung his head. “Yeah, sure. Like 3D printing.”

“Well you chose a great time and place to do it. The dead of winter in the deadest, winterest place on Earth.” Smirk laughed heartily. “Here, let me show you to your quarters.”

He started down the narrow hallway out of the atrium. The team followed, carrying their garments and rolling their luggage along with them. They soon arrived at a small room barely fitting two cots, a tube television, and a desk.

“This room is for Dr. Silberman and Mr. Wilkins,” said Smirk, looking down at a clipboard. “Ms. Phillips and Dr. Emery’s room is there.” He pointed to an identical room a few feet down the hall.

Silberman dropped his coat and bag on the floor carelessly. Their living arrangements were the furthest thing from his mind; his only concern was the project.

“Where is the lab?”

Emery glared at him. “Always right down to business. Can’t we settle in first? We just got here.”

He glared right back at her. “I’ve waited months for this. I can’t wait a moment longer.”

She sighed, resigned to his manic ambition. “Alright. Let’s see the lab.”

“It’s right through here,” said Smirk, beckoning the group to accompany him. The hallway stretched out into darkness, the floor and walls languishing under dull fluorescent overheads. When they reached the other end, they came upon a heavy red door. Smirk pushed it open and gave his best impression of a smile. “This is it!”

Silberman stepped across the threshold, his eyes immediately drifting upward. The room felt more like a warehouse than a laboratory, a huge open space covered in brutalist concrete. The ceiling reached several stories up, the high walls entirely windowless. And there, on the far side of the space, he saw them.

The blocky black structure to the left and its counterpart to the right towered a hundred feet in the air. Thousands of tiny light bulbs covered the exterior, flashing red and white, casting a soft glow on the walls and ceiling. Hundreds of wires of all shapes and sizes encased the components, serpentine tendrils crawling across the massive twin monoliths. The wires grew thinner and thinner as they stretched down toward the ground, each of them coming to a fine point as they reached their respective platforms. They formed the negative space outline of two cylinders, each opening just large enough to fit an average-sized man.

Silberman’s jaw hung open for a moment before sheer awe morphed into anxious anticipation. “Let’s take it for a spin!”

Emery pursed her lips. “We should at least run a thorough inspection first.”

Silberman batted his hand dismissively. “Inspection. We don’t need an inspection. I’ve been overseeing the construction remotely, and you know the software inside and out. Everything is ready.”

“What are we going to use to test it?” Phillips asked.

“We can’t use penguins, obviously... right?” Wilkins offered timidly.

“No, we can’t. Why would you even say that, Sam?” Phillips shot back. Wilkins shrugged and shrunk away from the conversation.

Smirk started toward the other side of the room. “A shipment arrived last night that might be what you’re looking for.” He swung open the top of a large wooden crate and pulled something out of it.

“A puppy!” Phillips squealed. Her giddiness immediately turned to anger when she remembered the canine’s purpose. “Wait. You can’t expect us to experiment on a dog.”

“Don’t be so sentimental,” Silberman said. “These dogs were all strays, mongrels. They were about to be put down. We saved their lives, and now we’re giving them a chance to make history. One of those little guys could be the next Laika!”

Emery turned subtly to Wilkins. “Laika was the first living animal to orbit the Earth,” she whispered, anticipating his ignorance. He nodded appreciatively.

Phillips pouted. “I still don’t feel good about it.” She shuffled over to the crate to pet the dog in Smirk’s arms. He handed it off to her and bent down to pick up a smaller travel crate within the large wooden one.

“This also arrived last night,” he said, pulling out a fluffy grey blob. “Is he another test animal?”

Silberman smiled. “He was once. Now he’s our mascot.”

Phillips dropped the dog back in the crate and grabbed the rabbit out of Smirk’s hands. “Wilbur!” She hugged him tight to her chest.

“Alright, you can have five minutes to play with the animals,” Silberman barked. “After that, I guess we can run through a quick inspection.”

“Good,” Emery smiled smugly. “I’ll make sure the software is all set up.”

“Will you be needing anything else from me?” Smirk asked.

“No, this is all very boring technical stuff,” Emery answered. “You can go.”

He gave a nod and waved goodbye, turning and exiting through the red door.

Silberman smiled at Emery. “I can’t wait to see what this thing can do.”

He left the group and wandered over to one of the workstations, sitting down and logging into the familiar interface. Somehow, it felt more like home than anywhere he had been since the end of phase one. He prepared the system for a test run and called Phillips over to help him inspect the hardware. She reluctantly placed Wilbur back in his crate and slogged over to him. They climbed the scaffolding and checked each part, each integration, making sure each piece was in its place. He had been right; everything was ready.

“It’s time,” he called to his team from the top-level catwalk. His voice echoed through the cavernous warehouse, bouncing off the walls with chaotic dissonance. From above, he watched Wilkins and Emery come forth to take their stations. Phillips carried one of the mutts from the wooden box onto the intake platform, delicately dressing it in the cold plastic. Even from his steep vantage point, Silberman could see it shivering with fear. No matter. It would all be over soon enough, one way or another.

“Are we in position?” he shouted to his team. Upon hearing their affirmative answers, he continued. “The maiden voyage of the mark two! Our next great leap forward! We will make history yet again this very night!” A shiver shot down his spine as he delivered the short speech. He prepared for execution and initiated the checking procedure.

“Check, 1A!”

“Check, 1B.”

“Check, 2A.”

“Check, 2B.”

“Set.” He waited, suddenly unsure what would happen when he pushed the button. He shook off his doubt and shouted the final command. “Execute!”

...

Nothing. He scanned the output window and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Had the button not triggered properly? He was starting to investigate it when, suddenly, the entire frame of the enormous edifice began to rattle and shake.

“What’s going on?!” he called as a blazing white flash blinded him from beneath. In an instant, he was in free fall. Time slowed as he plummeted, barely aware of what was happening. A smoky haze had spread through the space, disorienting him even further. He managed to stick out his arm just in time to break his fall. A shock of pain rushed to his brain. He stood up in a daze, searching aimlessly for the subject of the experiment. Even enduring the agony of a broken arm, his focus was singular. “Did it work?!”

“William! Where are you?!” Phillips’ voice rang out as she searched for him in the fog. He felt a hand grasp his shoulder and cling tightly to him. “You’re going to be okay, alright? It’s all going to be okay.”

He was not concerned with his own wellbeing. “But what of the experiment?!”

Phillips caressed his back. “Don’t worry about that now. We are going to find some medical help.”

He tore himself away from her embrace. “I don’t care about that. I need to see the results.” He marched stubbornly toward the synthesis platform as the smoke began to clear around him. There he saw Emery, her face pale with worry. Her eyes melted when she saw him.

“William! Thank God you’re alright!” She ran toward him and threw her arms around him.

“My arm! Get off!” he cried.

She pulled away. “Oh, I’m so sorry! You need medical attention. Let’s go find Smirk.”

“What happened, Emery?”

“We can discuss that after we fix you up. Oh, and everyone else is fine by the way, not that you care,” she said, any sentimental feelings she had for him vanishing into thin air.

“I do care. How’s Wilkins?”

“Sam is fine. The synthesis engine didn’t even start up, so he hardly felt a thing. Now, let’s go!” She pulled at his good arm, but he refused to budge.

“Please, just tell me what happened. I promise I’ll go. I just need to know.”

“Okay, fine. I didn’t want to upset you, but fine.”

She walked him over to the intake platform. Wilkins was already there, staring disgustedly at the results of the experiment. At first, Silberman did not see what revolted him; he saw the normal head of a mixed breed dog, its neck and legs seemingly in fine condition. Upon closer inspection, however, he realized that it was not a dog; not a full one anyway. The creature’s body ceased to exist about halfway down its belly, giving way to blood and entrails that pooled in the divots of the transparent tarp beneath.

He recoiled in horror. “Is it... is it still alive?”

“It should be dead by now,” said Wilkins, kneeling down for a closer look. “I don’t think it’s breathing anymore.”

Silberman took a step back. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and a new wave of pain hit him like a flash flood. “Okay, I guess I could do with some pain meds.”

Emery exhaled, relieved. “Right. The medical bay shouldn’t be too far from here.” She took him by the hand and they made their way out of the lab. They found Smirk in the common area, sitting and reading a novel. He leapt to his feet when he saw them, a flash of panic shooting across his face.

“Whoa, hey, what happened? Are you alright?”

Silberman sneered. “Please take us to the medical bay.”

“Right!” He sprung into action, leading them through the labyrinthian metal hallways. When they came upon a door marked with a large white plus sign, Smirk pushed it open and hurried them inside. He reached into a cabinet and pulled out some supplies.

“Alright, give me your arm.”

Emery looked at him incredulously. “You’re the medical professional here?”

Smirk shrugged. “I’m the closest thing we got. Now come on!”

Silberman held out his arm and Smirk wrapped it up delicately, holding it in place with a wooden stick that looked like a ruler. He tucked the arm into a sling and draped the sling around Silberman’s neck. “There! Good as new.”

Silberman grit his teeth, the pain growing sharper every second. “Don’t you have something else to give me?”

Smirk smacked his forehead. “Right! Sorry!” He reached back into the cabinet and grabbed an orange pill bottle. “Here you go. You’ll want to take two of those every six hours, and make sure you ice your arm to reduce the swelling.”

Silberman swiped the bottle from him and immediately dry-swallowed two pills. “Thank you.” He turned to Emery. “There, I’ve seen something resembling a doctor. Let’s go debrief.”

He and Emery exited the medical bay and found their way back to the common area. Phillips and Wilkins were there, sitting and waiting for them.

Phillips stood up and approached Silberman apprehensively. “You’re okay, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.” He held up the bottle of pills and shook it. “Nothing to worry about.”

He plopped down in a chair and settled in, the pain medication starting to seep into his bloodstream. “Do we know why we ended up with half a dog?”

“It was too much,” said Emery. “The deep scanning mechanism simply could not handle that magnitude of data.”

He clutched his forehead. “That doesn’t make any sense. The system should be able to deal with twenty times that magnitude of data. What happened?” His question hung in the air for a few seconds before Wilkins raised his hand. Silberman looked at him and sighed, the tiniest bit of affection peeking through his facade of annoyance.

“You don’t have to raise your hand to speak, Wilkins.”

“Right, sorry.” Wilkins cleared his throat and continued. “I think it was the software. None of the inputs in my simulations had the complexity of the real animal. We underestimated the depth of the elementary particle structure.” Tears began to form in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Dr. Silberman. I didn’t know it would rupture the system like that... I should have done more to prepare...” He trembled like an embarrassed child, struggling to hold himself together.

Silberman laughed and smiled at him warmly. “No, Wilkins, this was my fault.” He walked over and put his good arm around him. “I was the one who insisted on testing it today. Not much you could have done to prevent that. We’ll just need more computing power for next time.”

Emery frowned at him. “I’m not so sure. We upped the hardware capacity but it barely had an effect. The whole thing is starting to look implausible.”

His grin melted into a half-smile. “It’s not a question of plausibility. It is simply a question of scale.”

“The question of scale is a question of plausibility!” Emery shot back. “How can you be so confident that we’ll succeed?”

“Because we have to succeed.”

A stillness swept the room, each member of the group hesitant to break the silence. Silberman held up a finger and turned to exit. He slunk back to his living quarters and fumbled through his suitcase, pulling out a glass bottle and a small metal cup. He poured himself a drink and downed it quickly. Stepping back into the common area, he held out the bottle to his team. “Anybody else want any?”

Emery raised her eyebrows. “That’s a pretty hard drink for midmorning.”

“Midmorning?” He looked down at his watch and shook his head. “Time has no meaning down here. There is only night.” He took a swig right from the bottle and felt the satisfying sting coat his throat; that familiar bite that promised the swift arrival of numb contentment.

“You really shouldn’t drink alcohol on those meds,” said Phillips. “It’s dangerous.”

“I’ll be fine. Just fine.” His lips spread into a happy open-mouthed grimace, his head swimming in the fuzziness of insobriety. The night-day collapsed into a murky blur as he slipped into the dancing, swirling darkness.