Thoughts, Ideas, and Logs.

    Imagine a world without airports. No more security theater, no more overpriced water, no more sharing recycled air with a man who thinks a hacking cough is a personality trait. In its place stands the Teleporter: a sleek, humming platform that promises to whisk you from New York to Tokyo in the shimmering blink of an eye. It’s the ultimate expression of human convenience, a triumph of technology over the tyranny of distance. It’s also a murder machine with a brilliant marketing department.      We’ve all been sold the fantasy, but nobody wants to read the fine print. They don’t call it the “Molecular Disassembly and Atomic Reconstruction Chamber,” do they? No, because that sounds terrifying and nobody would get in the fucking thing. They call it a “teleporter.” It sounds clean. Instantaneous. Magical.     But let’s not get swept up in the branding. Let’s be engineers of our own existential dread for a moment and walk through what this device actual...