She stood a few feet from the teleporter. She had a young face, veiled by long, straight white hair, with pale blue eyes that were once brown. She was becoming a faded xerox of herself, copied so many times by the machine. Thousands of times she had been destroyed, atom by atom, and thousands of times she had been reassembled. Each time a little imperfection had been introduced, and gradually the imperfections cascaded into nebulous problems.
Usually, after teleporting, your skin and eyes regain their colour within a few days. Her eyes would never return to normal, and even her new hair grew back white. Her memory was starting to fade and her personality starting to shift. The little spark in her eyes had been removed.
She was a husk, and she could no longer remember why she had destroyed herself to come here.