Every time I beam up the bridge crew, a small smile creeps across my face because I know that the transporter is really just tearing them apart atom-by-atom, killing them, and making some clone of them on the other end.
Sometimes, I just sit there watching their patterns cycle around and around in the transporter buffer and think, "What if there was just some tragic accident and their patterns were all lost." I like to hover my finger over the button that would dump their patterns, seeing just how close I can move it to the button without actually touching it.
I like to randomly transport items.
If you ever lost your brush, an old shirt, or classic book, the chances are it was me. Space is littered with knicknacks and heirlooms I don't even care about, just transported into the abyss.
Sometimes, I just hide things. Ever find something you were looking for somewhere that you'd already checked? That was likely me, too. Using the sensors to track your movements as you go from room to room in your quarters trying to find your comm badge, but I keep moving it around on you.
Sometimes I use the transporter to rearrange their quarters while they sleep or while they're gone. Moving a table an inch to the left, a vase a few inches to the right, putting a ring under a chair, remove a partially eaten meal from their waste recycler and deposit crumbs of it throughout their quarters. It creates a sense of paranoia and unease in their minds at all times. It's too subtle for them to realize what's going on, but it's just enough that they live their lives in a state of constantly feeling confused.
Truth is, it makes me feel better about things, to run into someone in the turbolift and see the fatigue in their eyes of things always feeling wrong, always feeling out of place. That was me, I did that to you.
Just go about your duties, being always fucking thankful that I don't decide to someday transport you into oblivion.
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