The Mysterious Teleporter

Ethan Yuwen arrived at his office just before the 3:00 PM meeting. After gathering the necessary documents, he headed to the conference room, where the heads of various teams were already seated, awaiting his arrival. Before officially starting, Ethan typically exchanged a few casual words with the attendees. His assistant, Grace Gao, piped up playfully, "Professor Yuwen, we were a bit worried about you this morning since you didn't come to work. The snowstorm caused a lot of accidents on the road… But then we thought, maybe you were off at a matchmaking event? We didn't want to interrupt and mess up your flow…"

"Alright, alright, enough of that," Ethan cut her off with a smile. "What matchmaking event? I told you yesterday before I left that I was going to attend my old professor's funeral this morning. I was paying my last respects."

Grace quickly responded, "Professor Yuwen, you didn't mention that to me yesterday. I wouldn't joke about something like that, especially about your professor's funeral."

Ethan felt puzzled. He clearly remembered telling Grace that he needed to take the morning off, but there wasn't time to dwell on it now. After listening to the teams' progress reports and addressing some issues that had arisen in their experiments, Ethan outlined the next steps and adjourned the meeting.

Back in his office, Ethan sat at his desk, hands clasped under his chin, thinking back over the events of the past two days. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Ethan straightened up and said, "Come in." Grace entered, holding a folder and a notebook in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other.

She placed the coffee gently on Ethan's desk and said apologetically, "Professor Yuwen, I'm sorry if my joke earlier upset you. Please don't be mad at me; I work hard for you every day, don't I?"

Ethan leaned back in his chair, holding the coffee cup. "Well, you say you work hard, but you forgot I told you yesterday that I was taking the morning off for a funeral."

Grace quickly defended herself. "Professor Yuwen, I swear you didn't mention anything about a funeral to me yesterday. I write down everything you tell me in this notebook." She opened her notebook and began listing off dates and tasks Ethan had assigned, along with their completion statuses. Ethan waved her off. "Alright, alright, maybe I remembered it wrong. Let's just drop it. I'm not upset. Keep up the good work, and I'll treat you to some bubble tea one of these days."

Grace's tense expression softened. She looked at him with concern. "Professor Yuwen, you've seemed a bit worn out lately. Maybe you should see a doctor? My cousin is a neurologist at the city hospital…"

Ethan chuckled and placed his coffee cup back on the desk. "Do I really look that out of it? Do I need to see a neurologist?"

"Not at all! I'm just concerned. If you're dealing with things like insomnia and forgetfulness, that's something a neurologist can help with. It's not the same as seeing a psychiatrist for mental health issues," Grace explained with a grin.

Ethan laughed. "Thank you for the health advice and for explaining the difference between neurology and psychiatry. I appreciate it. Go ahead and send me your cousin's contact info. I've been having some trouble sleeping lately."

"No problem, Professor Yuwen. Here are the minutes from today's meeting. If there's nothing else, I'll get back to work." Grace left the office with a cheerful smile.

Ethan glanced through the meeting minutes and handled some paperwork, but soon a dull pain began throbbing in his right temple, occasionally intensifying for a few seconds. He rubbed his temple, but the pain persisted. Walking over to the window, he cracked it open and inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp, moist air that lingered after the snowfall. Noticing that it was only half an hour until the end of the workday, Ethan closed the window, tidied his desk, and turned off the lights before leaving his office.

As he reached Grace's office door, he paused and knocked gently before pushing it open slightly. Standing in the doorway, he said, "Grace, I'm still not feeling great, so I'm heading home early. Please arrange for me to take tomorrow morning off as well—I'll visit your cousin. Also, could you send me her name?"

"Of course, Professor Yuwen. Take care on your way home," Grace replied.

On his way home, Ethan's phone buzzed a few times, but deep in thought about the day's events, he ignored it. He didn't like having his thoughts interrupted by technology. Once home, he checked his phone. Grace had sent several messages—some text, a voice message, and a video. The first was her cousin's name and phone number. The second was a voice message: "Professor Yuwen, you can go see her anytime after 10:30 AM tomorrow. I've already spoken to her, so you don't need to book an appointment."

Ethan replied with a voice message of his own: "Thank you, Grace. You're wise beyond your years."

The third message was a video. When Ethan played it, the screen showed an overpass in the city, with bolded text reading, "Mysterious Teleportation Caught on Camera Amidst Heavy Snow Traffic Accidents!" Ethan's heart skipped a beat. The bridge in the video was the very one where he'd narrowly avoided an accident that morning. The footage was from a traffic camera, showing a series of vehicles crashing at the base of the overpass. As a white sedan, just like Ethan's, was about to collide with the wreckage ahead, it suddenly vanished, only to reappear in front of the crashed vehicles in the next frame. The driver got out, circled his car twice, and then went back to inspect the scene of the crash. Another small van then plowed into the wreckage, and the mysterious driver returned to his car and drove away.

The eye-catching title, combined with the surreal footage and dramatic music, had already attracted over a million views and comments. Watching the video, Ethan felt his scalp tingle. What he had experienced firsthand seemed merely extraordinary, but seeing it from this third-person perspective was downright terrifying. If someone had told him about this happening, Ethan, a seasoned physicist, would have dismissed it as impossible. Yet, even though he had lived through it, he still couldn't believe it was real.

Ethan replayed the video multiple times, scrutinizing the movement of other vehicles and pedestrians. Everything appeared continuous, with no signs of frame skipping, leading him to conclude that the footage hadn't been edited.

Exhausted, Ethan collapsed onto the couch, suddenly overwhelmed by hunger. He realized he hadn't eaten since a light breakfast at 6 AM. Too drained to cook, he ordered takeout from a nearby restaurant. After eating, he was so tired that he fell asleep without even washing up. Sleep was supposed to be restful, but for Ethan's mind, it was more like an intense mental workout.

That night, his dreams were a battleground of ideas, with none other than Werner Heisenberg himself (Werner Karl Heisenberg, 1901.12.5—1976.2.1, a renowned German physicist, a leading figure of the Copenhagen School, a major contributor to quantum mechanics, and the 1932 Nobel Prize in Physics laureate) challenging him on the uncertainty principle.

"Mr. Heisenberg," Ethan began, "you've said it's impossible to simultaneously determine both the position and momentum of a particle. Couldn't this be due to limitations in our measurement methods or instrument precision?"

Heisenberg responded, "The behavior of particles in the microcosm is vastly different from that of macroscopic objects. The uncertainty principle touches on profound philosophical issues." Taking a puff from his pipe, Heisenberg continued, "In causal determinism, the statement 'If we know the present precisely, we can predict the future' isn't a conclusion—it's an assumption. The reality is, we can't know all the details of the present; it's a fundamental issue."

"Physics dealing with philosophical questions? Are you saying that the uncertainty in position and momentum arises because we can't violate causality? What if I could achieve the result I wanted—what if I could break causality?" Ethan pressed.

"For instance, if you want to observe an electron, you have to make a photon interact with it—essentially, you need light to see the electron. But the act of illuminating the electron will inevitably alter its path or position. So, when you're not observing it, the electron's position and momentum are in one state. But your observation changes that state. What you observe is the state during observation; the state when unobserved remains unknown. That's what I mean by the uncertainty principle," Heisenberg explained sternly.

"But is using light and your eyes the only way to observe? And you still haven't answered—what happens if causality is violated?" Ethan asked again.

"That's absurd! Without using your eyes, how else would you observe? No matter what instruments you use, the final result still has to be observed by you. Causality cannot be violated; it's not a law you can choose to obey or break. Your observation is the cause; the state you observe is the effect. Without the cause, there's no effect! You can't reverse that!" Heisenberg, now irritated, exhaled a puff of smoke through his nose, coughing violently.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Heisenberg. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm suggesting that maybe we could consider the rules of

macroscopic objects as applicable to particles, but you're right, it seems impossible…" Ethan murmured, feeling a headache forming. "Is there a solution to this paradox?" He glanced at Heisenberg, only to find the German physicist transforming into a monstrous humanoid cloud, roaring at him, "You dare to doubt quantum mechanics? I'll devour your ignorance!"

Panicked, Ethan fled through the fog. However, the cloud quickly dissolved into thin air, and Ethan found himself standing on the snow-covered bridge from that morning. He watched as a series of cars collided ahead, and he struggled to control his vehicle. Then, the surroundings twisted into darkness.

When Ethan awoke, he was covered in sweat. He needed a solution—he needed to understand what was happening to him.