On the fourth day, the kits were constructed - these trips, we now called them, which would open Qedin. This would be the Rectangle Trip, and we would use the language of TELEPORT to speak other shapes into Earthly existence.

And then, on the fifth day, the end of the work week, we released the Rectangle Trip, sold through our website for a very reasonable $19.95. It was slow going at first; as I'm sure you can imagine, marketing a multidimensional transport system to a mainstream audience isn't the easiest proposition. But after one of Sweden's largest technology news sites published an article on TELEPORT, it took off in a very big way. Before we knew it, the orders were pouring in, requests from all sorts of people, from geeks, to spiritual types, to business people. For a few glorious months, it seemed like the whole world had gone mad. As I'd hoped, people started wearing their cards, hugging other trippers as they passed on the street and inviting "strangers" to impromptu dinners where matters of depth were discussed. I ran daily workshops, many attended by celebrities and other important people, providing techniques for activating the cards and, on Ley's advice, releasing signed copies of Plan Δ. While it was clear that most people didn't have much idea what they were doing, and probably weren't transporting the way they should, they were obviously getting something out of it, at least tapping some peripheral layer of Qedin, and this seemed perfectly fine. Ley agreed, reminding me that this was but the first stage, a preparation. And then there were others, those who knew very much what was going on, a few of whom I immediately recognised as fellow Behehn, drawn from across the country and the globe for this opening of the gates.

Copyright SweClockers

It was then, just when things were getting most exciting, that it all so dramatically fell apart. I have written briefly elsewhere of the forces on Earth who oppose the Mekeer, and now I met them for the first time. TELEPORT had become very popular in the local club scene, ravers replacing their former cocktails of ecstasy, LSD and ketamine with the cards hung round their necks, dancing the night away to the most natural of highs. A promoter who represented some of Boston's biggest clubs started organising TELEPORT parties, all-night raves where you wore your cards and went on "Mind-blowing group adventures! SO HOT!". This sounded kind of cool, so one night I, the brother and sister, and some graduates from a recent series of advanced workshops got dressed up in our best alien-style dancing gear and hit a club where one of the TELEPORT events was being held.

And yes, it was cool at first, whistle-blowing kids out with their cards, waving them around and getting down with Qedin. But things quickly turned much darker, a group of beautiful olive-skinned women who were clearly part of some collective twirling around the dancers and encouraging them to organise into groups of 12 and perform weird rituals with their cards, things which involved drugs and the removal of clothes. My team and I tried to break things up, tried to channel the true spirit of Qedin, but the dancers were far too drunk with the rituals, dazed into some other, unsavoury world, and only snapped out of their trance when the police arrived to whack them with truncheons and make their arrests.

Obviously, this wasn't the best publicity, and with similar TELEPORT parties cropping up in major cities across the country, things quickly got out of control. When a Boston teenager died during one of the rituals, the writing was very much on the wall, and within days the state had passed legislation banning TELEPORT. Within a week, every state in the country had done the same and I became a pariah, suffering a very cruel sort of treatment, mocked and jeered wherever I went. For some reason, it became fashionable to throw California rolls at my head and yell "Incoming!". By the end of the year I'd had enough and I left the United States, returning to my home town of London.

It was a total change of scene. TELEPORT was gone, the sequence was gone, and for the next three years there would be no more aliens.

This article is published under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non-Commercial-Share Alike 2.0 license creativecommons.org.

Visit Marc Fiszman's website: marcfiszman.com.

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