The map


M So you think teleporting will happen?

A Yeah. Soon, actually. We will be alive to see it. 

M Why do you think so?

A Remember when people couldn’t travel across continents? How flying was an impossible feat? Well, people travel all over the world quite easily now. 

M I guess.

A But we probably won’t be able to experience it. Because once it becomes possible, it’s going to be really expensive.

M To buy the teleporting device?

A No. It’s more likely that corporations will price each direct journey, similar to airplane flights. It’ll probably cost $100,000 per use or so. It won’t be accessible to regular consumers in the beginning.

M Money never occurred to me. So the idea of teleporting seems feasible to you?

A Yea. I mean, people can fly now.

M You mean airplanes. 


Flying by air is sort of like putting your beloved pet in a buoyant box and setting it afloat in hopes that it’ll make it across the lake. But teleporting—that’s almost like reviving the dead. We are not inflatable donut tubes that can deflate to fit in a tote bag and then be brought back to life on the beach. How can an intelligent machine extract the insomnia from my breath, the memories of a micro-crease and the flesh from my bones ever so perfectly to glue everything back together in a different place and time? I don’t really know anything about science, but I don’t think that would be possible, even on an atomic level. And it hurts to think that way. 


But if teleporting could really replace airplanes, I’d like to travel through pictures instead. This is also an impossible notion, but one that isn’t painful to imagine.  


For instance, it would be nice if I could quickly bring up a picture of Kaneko Hannosuke’s tendon from my hard drive every time I craved it. Or come across Maureen Gallace’s frothy waves in a gallery and be in them in the next wishing second. 


Or travel to a place where the horizon is evenly divided in half.  


That’s where my friend Greg wants to be —a world of grassy fields under white skies or cloudy fields over green skies—whichever way you see it.


An excerpt from felt