He did not want to pull the trigger. Yet, he had no other option.
His exact copy was staring at him. The situation was terrifying. He could not believe he had made a mistake in his calculations and the teleportation did not work.
Well, actually, it did work… in a way. Instead of moving him instantly from one place to another, the machine created a copy of him.
It was far from being a good decision to try teleportation on himself, now it was obvious, but it was not a time to think about it, now he had to fix his mistake. Of course, the only option was to get rid of the other himself because there should be only one.
In such a situation, as written in sci-fi books, the clone should be killed. It is not recognized as murdering since the clone is not supposed to exist in the first place.
So, if you failed and now you got a clone, you have to get rid of it and go home, have dinner with your family.
And he was exhausted, he just wanted to go home and meet his family, kiss his wife and hug his kids. He was hungry and frustrated, so he should have this situation figured out and drive home.
He pulled the trigger, and another himself was gone. There was no problem anymore. And there should be no other clones anymore, so he decided to stop experimenting with the teleporting machine. He plugged it out, closed the garage, started the engine of his car, and drove towards home.
The evening was nice. He opened the window, breathed the air. It felt great. Exactly as in his memory. But he knew it was the very first time when he was driving a car, looking around, starring at a forest, looking at the moon.
He was the clone.