Rift by Richard Cox Page A

when your head hits the pillow, and you wake up eight hours later as if no time has passed.”
    He’s right. That’s exactly what it felt like. But . . .
    â€œBut it’s
not
really like that,” I say. “I mean, I remember everything to the last second before the scan began. When you fall asleep there’s a sort of twilight time, a few moments before you go unconscious that you can’t remember in the morning. That’s why you can never tell the exact moment when you fall asleep. But there aren’t any holes or gray spots in my memory. It’s like a scene cut in a movie. Abrupt and seamless.”
    â€œDo you have any regrets?”
    â€œNo. I just wish Misty wasn’t so hurt by this. It’s something I really wanted, that I needed really, and yet she—”
    Tom is grinning impishly at me.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œThis conversation is getting too deep for me,” he says.
    â€œEvery conversation is too deep for you.”
    â€œFuck you.”
    â€œWhere the hell are we going?”
    â€œYou need some beer,” he tells me. “I know the transmission is a big deal, and you’re going to have plenty of time to worry about the return trip later. But right now you need to relax a little.”
    â€œOkay, but maybe I should call Misty again and make sure she’s okay. I talked to her earlier, before I saw you in the lobby, and she sounded pretty upset.”
    â€œCall her from your cell phone.”
    I reach for my back pocket but realize before my hand arrives that it’s not there.
    â€œGoddammit.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI knew I’d forget something. I plugged my damn phone in last night to charge and never even thought about it today.”
    He makes an abrupt right turn, and we pull into the parking lot of a small building that proclaims itself to be The Wildcat. About ten cars are parked here. The building doesn’t have any windows.
    â€œA strip club? You’ve got to be kidding me. I just risked my goddamn life for—”
    â€œCome on, Cam. It’s time you lived a little. Married life has made you soft.”
    â€œGive me your cell phone. She was pretty upset at the station. I want to make sure she made it home okay.”
    Tom reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slab of gray plastic that resembles a cigarette lighter.
    â€œIs that a phone?”
    â€œJust got it last week. Smallest one you can buy.”
    â€œOf course it is.”
    The buttons are so small that I’m forced to start over three times before finally keying the number correctly.
    â€œHi, this is Captain Kirk. Misty and I can’t beam to the phone right now—”
    Answering machine. I’m one of those geeks who thinks it’s funny to make jokes on the outgoing announcement.
    â€œShe must not be home yet,” I tell Tom. “Let me try her cell.”
    I key in her cell number and listen as the phone rings, but this time her voice mail answers. I leave a short message to let her know everything is okay, and that I’ll call her later.
    â€œOkay,” Tom says. “Can’t say you didn’t try. Now can we please go have a good time?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    Today I boldly stepped forward and became one of the first humans in history to be transmitted from one location to another via quantum teleportation. Such is the stuff of heroes, right? Scratch me into the history books right beside Columbus and Armstrong. And when they ask what Cameron Fisher did upon arriving safely at his destination, what will be the answer? Did he make a speech? Nope. Did he record on paper his memories of the trip for posterity? No way. What he preferred to do was drink alcohol and watch topless women shake their breasts in exchange for dollar bills.
    At least The Wildcat is more upscale than I anticipated. The lights are dim, of course, but the fixtures shine, the carpet seems clean, and the air is