Rift by Richard Cox Read Free Book Online

your luggage as soon as you place your personal effects in the other portal.”
    My hands, slick with sweat, tremble as I remove the gown, my watch, and underwear.
    A few moments later I stand buck-naked, having placed everything through the trapdoor. I fight off the urge to cover my privates and quickly sit down in the chair. It’s made from titanium or stainless steel or some kind of effortless alloy, and damn, is it cold. Gooseflesh marbles my skin.
    â€œCameron? Are you ready?”
    My heart climbs into my throat. I’m shivering where I sit. Couldn’t they heat the chair?
    â€œYes,” I say, and fear it’s a lie. As surely as I have convinced myself that this is the right thing, I think I’ve changed my mind again. Death is not the answer. I have no desire to die.
    â€œYour luggage and clothes are gone, Cameron,” Cheryl says. “Your scan will begin in less than a minute.”
    Oh God. Oh, my God. This is crazy.
    â€œEverything all right in there?”
    â€œI’m fine,” I say, not bothering to hide the fear now. They all know. Probably they’re placing bets on how long it will be before I cry out in terror. But I won’t. I’ve made it this far. I’m—
    â€œCameron?”
    â€œI’m fine!”
    â€œSomeone here wants to talk to you.”
    I don’t respond. Shortly I’ll be reduced to nothing more than entangled quantum particles. I’m not thinking clearly.
    â€œCameron, honey? It’s me.”
    â€œMisty?”
    â€œYes, honey. I love you. I’m . . . oh, Cameron . . .”
    â€œI love you, too, Misty.”
    â€œBe careful.”
    â€œI will, baby. I will.”
    A pause. Rattling as the intercom changes hands.
    â€œCameron?” It’s Cheryl again. “Fifteen seconds.”
    â€œThank you.”
    After listening to Batista drone on about it over the past few weeks, I’ve formed a pretty good idea about what will happen when my transmission begins: nothing. The scanning procedure will render me unconscious almost instantly, and the next click of my mental works should take place in Phoenix. Everything in between will, in effect, become lost time. I should experience instantaneous transmission.
    As I try to pass the last few seconds, I become aware of something different, some new sensation, something unexpected. Something else in the room with me.
    A smell. A sweet—and oddly enough, familiar—smell. When have I experienced it before? Should I say something to Cheryl? Is something wr—
    â€œBegin scan.”
    Now I feel a little light-headed. And drowsy. Is this normal? Did something just bite me? A n—

two

    I can’t believe how goddamn cold this chair is. Couldn’t they have mounted a cushion on it? Or at least put a heating element beneath the surface? It seems needlessly uncomfortable.
    â€œCameron,” a female voice says, “you may open the ‘clothes’ door and put on the gown.”
    I’m still waiting for the scan. For the transmission to begin.
    Or perhaps I’ve already done it.
    And I’m not dead. Not dead
not dead NOT DEAD
!
    And suddenly I am seized with such an exquisite delight that I nearly stand up and scream
Hallelujah!
at the top of my lungs. I’ve done it! I’ve transmitted from Houston to Phoenix by means of quantum teleportation. Beamed myself across the country like some hero from
Star Trek
. Unbelievable. I’ve done it! And I’m alive!
    From the chair I move to the door marked CLOTHES . My belongings are here just as I left them. I struggle with my watch and ring because my hands are shaking. Shaking with joy. I grab the gown, hold it up to my face, and smell it. I can easily discern the scent of my deodorant, and to a lesser extent the fragrance of my aftershave. A few of my chest hairs cling to the cotton fabric inside the gown. When I put it on, it fits as badly as before.
    I can’t wait to go