Dislocated

Nicola’s teleportation sickness support group used to meet in the public library, but then the library sealed its entrance and went teleport-only. For tonight’s meeting, Nicola rented an Irish pub’s snug. The Ivy and Cross is one of the few places that still has a physical entrance. Teleporting while drunk can do a number on you.

Nicola’s fighting to be in phase enough to set out cookies when Kate and Katherine arrive, already arguing. They’re duplication twins. The teleporter hiccuped and copied Kate. Katherine thinks the snug is in fact too snug. Kate disagrees out of contrariness. Their bickering is sandpaper on Nicola’s already-frayed nerves. She’s in charge, though, so she has to calm the waters. She sends Katherine to fetch beers and has Kate set out the cookies so Nicola can let her throbbing hands de-phase.

Once everyone’s arrived, Nicola agrees with Katherine. The six of them are cheek-to-jowl. Santiago has it the worst. He flickers from spot to spot, Schrödinger’s group member. It’s not as bad when he moves. In the old meeting room, he’d pace. Here he can only walk in and out of the snug, and after the third muttered comment from a patron, he sits, vibrating at one end of the table.

Nicola’s failure pulls her shoulders down. She should have found a better location. She puts her guilt aside for later and asks each member how they’re doing. She calls on Ainsleigh last. Everyone waits the several seconds for the words to reach Ainsleigh. The teleporter left her on a permanent delay, like her mind orbits out past the moon. Ainsleigh eventually says that her mom wants her to move out. Rent’s too high, though, and her last roommate found her too slow to live with.

Nicola wants to help. It doesn’t hurt that Ainsleigh’s very much Nicola’s type, stocky and fit, so grounded that it’s no wonder the teleporter struggled to move her. But Ainsleigh’s a cipher. She won’t even look at Nicola, and doesn’t speak unless spoken to directly.

At discussion time, Oneida leans forward and brandishes her phone. A new study, she says. No one’s heard of the research organization. When Oneida mentions the vitamin supplements that the organization wants her to sell, the mood drops from frosty to Antarctic-frigid. Kate and Katherine’s arms are crossed tight, lips pressed tighter, both in agreement for once. No mid-level-marketing vitamin will reintegrate them, and would they even want that?

The teleporter left Oneida convinced she was a ghost haunting her own body, and she’s desperate to be alive again. Remembering that helps Nicola have patience with Oneida. She tells Oneida to post the link to #medical in their Discord. Everyone but Oneida and Nicola has that channel muted.

Nicola encourages everyone to mention last week’s wins. There are a few, like Kate and Katherine’s new jobs, though the schedule’s murderous because the company assumes everyone can commute to work instantly. Santiago’s brother has finally accepted that it’s not Santiago’s fault he’s living with teleportation sickness. Santiago smiles for the first time in months. His vibrations ease. So does a knot in Nicola’s chest. She’s been so worried about him.

Then Ainsleigh asks how Nicola is.

Surprise almost makes Nicola honest. How she’s still wrecked by her girlfriend leaving her last year, but it’s not her girlfriend’s fault—who wants to date someone who can only be physically present by a painful act of will? Instead, she mentions the new medication that may help her stay in phase. Smiles all around, no one admitting the doubts that they all share. Every past cure has been a mirage. Why should this be any different? But boulders don’t roll themselves uphill, so they carry on until the hour is up.

Nicola’s gathering up the leftover cookies, brow furrowed with effort, when Ainsleigh lifts them from her. “You should tell us how you’re really doing.”

Ainsleigh’s reacting far too quickly. Shocked, Nicola blurts, “How did you do that?”

“I’m like you. I can push through if I want to bad enough.”

She’s noticed Nicola struggling. “You don’t even look at me.”

“Hard to steal glances when you’re three seconds behind.” Ainsleigh packages up the cookies. Sweat dampens her forehead.

“You don’t have to push for me.”

It’s seconds before Ainsleigh slumps in relief. Nicola holds still as Ainsleigh moves to take Nicola’s hands. Nicola makes them solid. A beat, and then Ainsleigh says, “You don’t, either.”

Nicola’s girlfriend hated feeling her when she was out of phase. Said it was like a too-warm mist. But Nicola relaxes. Ainsleigh’s hands fall into hers. Ainsleigh doesn’t pull back, though. She stays still long enough that it’s clearly her choice.

Ainsleigh finally steps away. “Text me,” she says as she leaves. “We’ll start with coffee.”

Nicola’s hands tingle with the memory of Ainsleigh’s touch.

* * *

Ⓒ Stephen Granade