F C Hartley pushed open the swing door and approached the reception desk. The dark haired, attractive, female receptionist looked up as he approached. She was wearing an immaculately pressed white lab coat. She smiled at him.

"Morning sir, can I help you?"

"I've got an appointment with Professor Jarvis. F C Hartley, FC for short."

"I'll just check."

She phoned and spoke briefly into the mouthpiece.

"Professor Jarvis is expecting you. Go right up. Have you been before?"

"Yes, thank you."

FC went up the open plan flight of stairs and through the single swing door at the top. Professor Jarvis' laboratory was at the end of the corridor on the right. He knocked briefly and walked in. Professor Jarvis greeted him effusively.

"FC, you are about to witness the greatest advance in transportation since the wheel. Arrive at your destination at the click of your fingers," clicking his fingers enthusiastically.

"Lab coveralls are over there, sterile gloves here. Don't want any contamination, remember 'The Fly'."

Suddenly the thought of Professor Jarvis with a fly's head struck him as hilarious. They both togged up and went through into the test chamber. They were confronted by two transparent cylinders, each one topped by a mass of electrical wiring. On the floor of each cylinder was a circular metal plate.

"Our subject is a volunteer of sorts," he said, giving an embarrassed smile. "A convicted murderer who was given a choice. Whole life imprisonment or the subject of our experiment."

"And if it's a success, he will be released? "

"Yes."

"And if it fails? "

"We don't contemplate failure, we're not even sure how it can fail. Every trial we have run with animals has succeeded with flying colours "

"That's a bit presumptious isn't it? Just because it works with animals."

"Let's wait and see." Jarvis pressed a button and within a few minutes the door they had come through opened and two men came in. One looking sullen and wearing an obvious prison uniform and the other looking very official. The official looking one spoke first.

"Here's your subject, where do you want him?"

"Put him in the left hand tube," said the professor. The subject was taken to the left hand tube and positioned over the metal plate with the instruction to stay on it. Both tubes were then secured, the official guard left and the professor made his way to the console, indicating that FC should follow him.

"Now, the great moment has arrived." There was a religious zeal in the professor's eyes. "The teleportation of humans." He reached down to the console and pushed some sliders forward, some back and checked several digital readouts. He then flipped the top of a button and pressed it. The tube where the subject stood began to glow and a stream of particles poured down from the top of the tube to the bottom plate. The subject became transparent and then disappeared. The professor flipped another button, this one green and pressed it. The streaming was repeated in the empty tube and gradually the subject reappeared.

"Oh my god," uttered FC, "It works." The professor was beside himself

"It works, it works. People any time, any place, anywhere." He leapt up and punched the air. When the professor's enthusiasm had diminished, FC nudged him gently.

"Your subject doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm." Which was true, the subject seemed to be somewhere else. What had he experienced? What could he see and how did he see it?

"Yes, but think what he has been through. His whole body taken apart, atom by atom and then reconstructed." But it was true that the subject was just standing there, swaying slightly, moving its head as if taking in his or it's surroundings. He just gazed at them disinterestedly.

"It's almost as if he's mentally absent. Physically present but mentally absent. Just a mass of living cells, like a giant multicellular amoeba. He has no soul," said FC.

"What do you mean, no soul, don't go all religious on me."

"You have transported a mass of interacting cells, living cells maybe, but they have no direction, no decision making apparatus. All the things a soul does, motivation, consciousness, etc. Can you reverse it. His soul will be lost in the other cage."

"Reverse. no. It's one way, bit like escalators, one going up and none going down."

"You've destroyed him. It's a living death. His soul will be trapped until the body dies. You're going to have to kill that thing."

"What nonsense. His body is just getting readjusted, acclimatized if you like."

"And how long are you prepared to wait for that?" They waited all afternoon for something to happen but nothing did.

"We'll leave him overnight. I'll put some sandwiches and fruit juice in the container for him."

Hartley nodded slowly, unsure of this decision. "I'm not sure whether it will eat or drink. Will it know what to do?"

"It is a human being and it is a he."

"Is it. We'll check again in the morning." They both left, a pall hanging over them.

Later that night Professor Jarvis crept back to the laboratory. Letting himself in, he checked that the blinds were shut and then switched on the lights. The creature was still there, didn't look as if it had moved, the food and drink untouched. He stood there in silent contemplation, regret mingling with exhilaration. Had he really transported a body with no soul. He had spent the night mentally wrangling with his dilemma. Do flies we unthinkingly swat have souls. Sadly, he knew what he had to do, to release this entity from its torment. Approaching the tube containing the cellular mass, he lifted the lid of the tube, unscrewed the top of the petrol can he had brought with him and poured petrol over the creature. He then poured petrol over the rest of the laboratory, emptied the can and threw the empty can onto the floor. He took a slow regretful look round and pulled out a box of matches. Standing in the doorway, he struck a match and threw it into a petrol puddle on the floor. It instantaneously combusted and spread quickly across the floor. He hurriedly shut the door behind him and rushed down the stairs. He found himself in reception and waited. An unearthly scream assailed his ears and he held onto the desk to stop himself from falling. The horror of what he had done swept over him. He had murdered a sentient being in the worst way possible and he could only hope and pray that the soul had been released. He made his way to the fire exit at the rear of reception and slipped away, ensuring that the door closed firmly behind him.