Author : J. S. Kachelries

This will be my greatest invention! Of course, my invention bar is not set very high. The phaser thing sort of worked. It was able to set the living room curtains on fire, but I got second degree burns on the palm of my hand when the damn thing overloaded. My transparent aluminum project turned my wife’s collection of frying pans into a melted lump of not-at-all-transparent scrap metal. All I have left of the “holodeck” experiment is a black den with a yellow grid pattern, and about $10,000 of worthless projection equipment. But this will be different. This will be the world’s first working transporter. To paraphrase Dr. McCoy, I will be rich beyond the dreams of Avarice.

I’ve been working on the transporter secretly in the garage, because I’ve been trying to keep a low profile ever since my wife walked into the force field that I had set up in the bathroom. She was really hot, literally. But, she eventually forgave me for that one too. After all, she’s a psychologist, and they want to see the good in people. Besides, I have a flawless back-up plan. I turn on the ol’ charm, and she melts like a Changling at an orgy. Okay, I know what you’re thinking, “This guy is obsessed with Star Trek.” Nothing could be further from the truth! Believe me; I have it completely under control.

Anyway, back to my newest invention. I only had a four hour window to complete my test before my wife and Wesley returned from the movies. It took me three hours to collect the final components from the TV, microwave, vacuum cleaner, and other various household appliances, and assemble them into the transporter and receiver platforms. Now, all I needed was our pet cat. “Heeeyyy, Spot, it’s time for you to boldly go where no feline has gone before.”

With Spot happily munching on the fillet of salmon that I had placed on the transporter pad, I booted up the laptop and initiated the transport command. I’m not exactly sure what happened next. I know the lights went out, there were a series of relatively “minor” explosions, the garage windows blew out, and there were fireworks bursting from the transporter pad. Spot yowled like I had shut the car door on his tail, again. When I got my vision back, Spot was gone. I guess he transported somewhere, but he wasn’t on the receiver pad, or anywhere in the garage. Oh, this is not logical; the uneaten salmon remained smoldering on the transporter pad. Why hadn’t it transported along with Spot? Looks like I have a mystery afoot. That’s when I heard my wife’s car pulling up the driveway. I had been hoping for more time. Oh well, I opened the garage door manually to let her in.

“Scotty, do I smell smoke? You promised me no more inventions. Is that part of the stereo?”

Hmm. I wonder how Jean-Luc would handle this. I looked into her dark black eyes and said, “Hi, honey. How was the movie? Uh, by the way, you didn’t happen to see Spot anywhere when you drove up?” Her scowl made her look like an angry Romulan, but I guess that’s being redundant. I could hear the wail of fire engine sirens, again. This might be harder than getting an interest free loan from a Ferengi. Okay, it’s time to engage the ol’ charm. “Imzadi, is that a new outfit you’re wearing? Wow, you really look great. Have you lost weight?”


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