Into the Forbidden Place

1. Windy day

"To Heine, please!" The woman spoke the words so effortlessly, as if she weren't about to go to the most restricted area. Timothy, the teleportation guard, gaped at the short woman with tiny freckles on her nose. He gasped for air, unsure if he was breathless because of her beauty or because he had to quickly recall what permits and paperwork were needed to cross into the forbidden area.

"What did you say? Where do you want to go?" he stammered as if trying to buy time or hoping she might change her mind or that he misheard. After all, one can't just teleport to Heine. It requires the highest level of authorization.

He felt the other people in line glaring at him as he waited. Everyone was in a hurry. Somewhere. Only he stood in front of the round-shaped metal gate in his uniform, which hung on him as if it weren't his. He was tall and skinny, with long arms sticking out of his sleeves; his feet were huge, and it was a miracle they found the right size for him at the workwear department, having to write twice to the authorities to confirm the size. His white socks showed at the ankles, and the pant legs flapped in the strong wind as if he were wearing a skirt. His head was small, but his vast ears compensated for it, with large green eyes and a long nose, making him look like a weather vane—an apt comparison, as he always turned into the wind with the papers he had to check to keep them from crumbling.

"To Heine, please," the woman said again, extending her papers with her tiny hand. She smiled charmingly, and Tim felt a bead of sweat start to form on his temple. Women didn't usually smile at him like that; they barely looked at him, just hurriedly handed over their papers, some not bothering to greet him. He had to muster all his strength to keep his hand from trembling as he studied the documents.

"Name?" he asked, trying to stay calm.

"Mara," she replied with quiet strength. "Mara Matthews."

To Tim's surprise, she had all the necessary permits, but he found a discrepancy, secretly pleased because it meant he could keep talking to the attractive woman. "I'm sorry, Mara, but something is missing. You have the permits for the northern sector, but you're missing the EPRS number. Did you apply for it?"

The woman pouted in confusion as if she didn't understand. "What number? I don't understand."

"If you want to teleport, you need to enter the data into the system and get an EPRS number, which you must present here. It is an abbreviation for electronic permit pre-registration system. Can be printed or electronic, but your data must be in the system," Tim recited the oft-repeated rules.

"Since when is this required? Is this another new rule that was suddenly introduced?" Mara tried to smile, but her voice betrayed her annoyance.

"Not very long, indeed; it's been like this for two months since the authorities noticed that one permit was being used for multiple trips because they started forging the permits." Tim was amused that the other passengers in line were increasingly restless, so he continued. "Ah yes, the good old days when everyone could travel at will, using their bank card for the trip. However, as expected, there were hacks, the system was breached, and people entered prohibited areas. That's why there are gatekeepers now; if it weren't so, I wouldn't have a job..."

"I didn't mean it that way; I didn't want to offend you or question the legitimacy of your job. I think it's perfect that crossings are monitored like this to prevent unauthorized people from jumping wherever they please. I just didn't know about this number..."

"I'm sorry, but you can't pass without it!" Tim said more seriously. "Apply for the number and come back!"

Mara's expression didn't change, but her eyes became more intense. "Please, you don't understand. I need to get there now. It's urgent!"