Written for the humour challenge on b7friday a few weeks ago, about 600 words set in season 1. This was inspired by a conversation with corvuscornix about how the teleport works.
Beam Me Up
Avon checked his list of lights and buttons and tentative notes. Yes, it seemed there was an internal test that would send a subject from one teleport bay to the opposite one. He put his pen on the main bay floor, then went back to the controls and pressed the test button. There was a hum, but nothing else happened. Perhaps he needed to use a teleport bracelet. He put the pen through one and tried again.
He wasn't that surprised. Teleport theory was based on quantum effects which the mind also used. It must interact with the mind, or use it in the computing somehow. Very well, he would try himself, but he would need someone to work the controls. He turned on the comms, "Jenna? I need you in the teleport room."
He stood in the bay, took a deep breath, and nodded at Jenna. "All right."
She pressed the button, there was a flash of light, and suddenly he was looking at her from a different angle. And he was strangely cold. Perhaps there had been a loss of energy during the process, but no. He could see his clothes crumpled in the other bay, and Jenna turning to look. Avon was damned if he was going to do that undignified hunch and clutch, so he remained upright and just said, "Ah. So that's how it works."
Jenna stared, and a grin started across her face.
"Jenna!" Blake said reprovingly as he came in. "And Avon!"
"We were testing the teleport," said Avon with dignity as he walked to the other bay, then realised that he would have to bend over to get his clothes. He shut his eyes briefly and did so.
"Jenna? Allow the man some privacy."
"It's a bit late for that, Blake. But what the teleport did: it doesn't make sense."
"Yes, it does. But it seems rather impractical to say the least." Avon pulled up his trousers and reached for his tunic.
"No, really. Look, if you pick someone up, then what they're wearing and holding will come too."
"But the teleport doesn't pick anyone up."
"No," said Blake. "It beams them."
"It does not." Avon turned to face them, holding his boots. "You've been watching too many old vid series. It uses the mind and its body image and--"
"And that's the way you see yourself?" Jenna put her chin on her hand and smirked.
"Rubbish." Blake put on a bracelet and went over to the bay and stood in it. "Try again."
Jenna pushed the button with a certain amount of anticipation, and her face fell as Blake disappeared and appeared in a flash on the other bay--fully clothed.
"You see?" said Blake. "Picks you up, beams you, or whatever it does, along with your clothes, and I'm willing to bet, anything you happen to be carrying."
"No. It transmits information, using the mind. Just what did you do on the teleport project, Blake?" Avon asked.
"I was in management. We don't overthink things like you scientific johnnies."
"'Over' wasn't needed in that sentence."
"It worked though, didn't it." Blake took off his bracelet, threw it in the air, caught it, and walked out.
Jenna raised her eyebrows at Avon. "Want to try again?"
"No." Avon paused. That was not in the spirit of scientific experiment. "Yes." He got into position, gritted his teeth and imagined being picked up and beamed. And it worked. He patted his clothes, nodded at Jenna, and walked out.
He was going to have to believe in something patently untrue to be teleported anywhere with his clothes, and that offended him. Perhaps he could think of it as an enlarged body image? No, it was best to stick with what worked.
Intelligence was a curse.
I almost called this "Man of Science, Man of Faith". Too much thinking about Lost lately. :-)