Teleportation: The Death Sentence and Why It Will Never Work

By

Debesh Mongia, Aspiranian Engineering Student and Proud Skeptic 'The Verve', Academy of Advanced Sciences and Defense (AASD)

Elysium, Azura Aspira

37th Somanaris, 231 EE

Teleportation. The crown jewel of sci-fi dreams, the ultimate cheat code for long-distance travel. Step in, disappear in a shimmer of light, and reappear wherever you please. No waiting, no cramped seating, no awkward small talk with your seatmate. Sounds perfect, right?

Wrong.

As an engineer, I’ve spent countless hours obsessing over advanced propulsion systems, Negative Mass Fluid drives, and fusion reactors. But let me tell you this: teleportation is where my enthusiasm for technology stops. Not because I’m scared of being turned into cosmic dust (okay, maybe a little), but because the entire concept is as impractical as it is terrifying.

What Teleportation Actually Is

Let’s get one thing straight: teleportation doesn’t “move” you anywhere. It disassembles you into subatomic particles, transmits your molecular blueprint across space, and then reassembles you at the destination. Sounds simple, right? Except for one tiny, existentially horrifying detail: the “you” stepping out of the machine isn’t the same “you” who stepped in.

Here’s the blunt truth: you’re destroyed at the starting point. Obliterated. Reduced to an energetic smear of particles. And the thing reassembled on the other end? It’s just a copy. Sure, it looks like you, talks like you, and thinks it’s you—but the real you? Gone.

I don’t know about you, but I happen to like existing. Call me old-fashioned, but the idea of being obliterated every time I want to visit a different city doesn’t exactly scream “convenience.”

The Science That’s Trying Too Hard

Even if you’re okay with being atomically vaporized and cloned (you do you), let’s talk about the logistics.

First, there’s the energy problem. To disassemble and reassemble a human body—37 trillion cells, each with its own molecular structure—you’d need an astronomical amount of energy. And by “astronomical,” I mean enough to power half of Aspira for a week. Imagine the energy bills if teleportation became as common as shuttles. Forget saving the planet; we’d burn through every fusion reactor we’ve got trying to send people across town.

Then there’s the data problem. Your molecular blueprint isn’t just a quick snapshot. It’s an unfathomably complex map of every atom, every neural connection, every tiny imperfection that makes you you. Storing that data would require a server farm the size of an entire city. Transmitting it without a single bit of data loss? Good luck. One misplaced byte, and you could end up with your face where your elbow should be.

Quantum Entanglement: Easier Said Than Done

Ah, quantum entanglement—the buzzword teleportation advocates love to throw around. The idea is that entangled particles can “communicate” instantaneously across vast distances, making it theoretically possible to transmit your molecular data in real-time.

Sounds great, except for one problem: quantum entanglement is ridiculously fragile. It’s affected by temperature, interference, and about a million other variables that would make reliable teleportation almost impossible. One tiny hiccup in the system, and your particles could end up scattered across the cosmos like stardust. Romantic? Maybe. Practical? Not at all.

The Ethical and Philosophical Mess

Let’s not even get started on the ethical dilemmas. If teleportation just copies you at the destination, who gets to decide what happens to the “original” you? Is it ethical to destroy someone, even if a perfect replica appears elsewhere?

And what about the philosophical implications? If the copy at the destination thinks it’s you, does it even matter? To some people, the answer is no. To me, the answer is a resounding “yes.” Because as far as I’m concerned, the original you is the only you that matters.

Why Teleportation Will Never Work

At the end of the day, teleportation isn’t just impractical—it’s unnecessary. We already have reliable, efficient methods of transportation. Fusion-powered shuttles, wormhole navigation, modular ships—these technologies get us where we need to go without vaporizing anyone in the process.

Teleportation may sound like the future, but it’s a future I want no part of. Give me a sturdy ship, a comfortable seat, and a good view of the stars any day. At least then I’ll know the person arriving at the destination is still me.

Final Thoughts

To anyone still dreaming of teleportation: I admire your optimism. Truly, I do. But before you step into that shimmering chamber of death and reinvention, ask yourself this: Is convenience really worth the price of existence?

As for me, I’ll stick to the tried-and-true methods of travel. Because in the end, the journey is just as important as the destination—and I’d prefer to stay alive for both.