A misanthropic, anti-social, introverted loner discovers that they have the ability to teleport themselves anywhere in the world instantly. Where do they go and how do they get send postcards of themselves in a coma to all of his or her closest friends and family?

(Note: this prompt is a tribute to Jack Vance's *The Dragon Masters,* which features a character who is more or less exactly as described above. This book was one of my first sci-fi reads, and is hands-down one of the best sci-fi novels ever written. Be warned, though - Jack Vance is not for everyone. If you don't have an interest in mythopoeic fiction (e.g., fantasy inspired by Greek myths) then you may find the book boring. And if you are easily disturbed by plot twists, particularly the ones that happen at the ends of stories, then you may have nightmares after reading this book.) The first time it happened, she was 5. She had a bad cold and was running a low fever- the kind that isn't quite strong enough to need a doctor, but is still miserable enough to require bed rest. And so she spent most of that morning in her bed, sleeping fitfully and watching T.V. that she didn't particularly care for. Her parents were busy - the oven had broken down, and they were spending the day at a flea market and second-hand stores to find a replacement. She slept and woke and watched T.V. and read a few pages out of a book and played with a stuffed rabbit for an hour or so. It was boring. And more than that, she had the feeling of being cooped up for too long. She often went weeks without leaving the house, but staying home and spending the whole time in her room was a kind of torture. So as soon as she had decided that she needed a change of pace or something to do, she was suddenly in the closet. It's a little hard to describe. One moment, she was lying in her bed and fantasizing about going for a walk or an adventure or something. The next thing she knew, she was standing in her closet and staring up at the stuffed rabbit. She was so groggy and out of it that she could hardly remember her own name. How long had she been in the closet? Was she acting on some kind of impulse? Had she meant to go on some kind of hunt for something? She was so disoriented that it took her almost half an hour to figure out that she was sick and needed to go back to bed. So, she went back to bed. It didn't happen again until she was almost 7 years old. And again, she couldn't remember a thing. She had dozed off on the back porch after a long morning of doing nothing. She woke up to the sound of an airplane flying by. She groggily opened her eyes and half expected to see a long vapor trail stretching across the sky. But there was no vapor trail, and she wasn't on the back porch. She was standing in a wheat field a hundred feet away from a long row of tall trees. She had no idea where she was or how she got there. Then the airplane flew by and she realized that that had probably woken her up. Did she dream about the back porch and confuse it for real life? It was raining when she got back home. She was soaked to the bone by the time she had walked the mile from the field to her house. Without a word, her father fetched her a towel, her mother fetched her a blanket, and they sat her down at the dinner table to a full meal. "What the hell was that?" her father asked after they had both gone to bed. "I have no clue." her mother said. "I was in the field, and then she was just walking back that way. Dripping wet. Then she walks through the front door and doesn't say a word to either of us. It was creepy. Did she go for a walk while we were sleeping and forget about it?" "I don't know, dear. Maybe we should take her to the doctor," her mother said. "Let's wait 'til tomorrow. She's gone to bed and she's safe. Let's just forget about it for now." They had both stopped listening long before she had stopped talking, so she stopped whispering to herself and fell asleep. It didn't happen again until the day of her 18th birthday. By that point, she had almost entirely forgotten about the incident from almost 8 years before, and had written the first one off as a fever-induced hallucination. "Do you want to go for a walk with me?" she asked her mother as they were cleaning up after a very uneventful little wangst party that they had thrown in her honor. "I thought that the party was over. Who is going to the walk?" her mom asked. "You and Dad, if you want to, and me. And apparently the little girl who has been throwing this fucking temper-tantrum for the last three years. She's been a real pain in my ass," she replied. *We've never liked that little girl. Now that she's gone, we can finally treat you the way we think you deserve.* "Oh, and what do I deserve?" she asked. "A spa treatment and a massage, for starters. Are you okay, baby?" her mom asked. "Yeah. Baby, can you take your medication for me?" she asked. *We have more important things to talk about. We're finally a woman.* "We are?" she asked. "Why don't you go take your medication and go to bed, little one? I think that the party has gone on long enough, don't you?" her father said. "You sure? It's my birthday, isn't it?" she replied. "I don't think that you're well enough to have a birthday, don't you think we should go back to bed?" her father said. "You sure? It's my birthday, you remember, don't you?" she asked. "You are not 18 years old. It's only been a few months since your ninth birthday. How could you possibly be 18 years old?" her father said. "You sure that I'm not 18 years old? It feels like it's my birthday." she said. "We know that it seems that way, but I promise you that it is not your birthday. Now you need to go to bed," her mother said. "Fine. Good night. Don't let the bed bugs bite. Thank you for the party. I had a great time," she said. "Why don't you go to bed now?" her mom said. "You sure that I'm not 18 years old?" she asked. "Of course we are," her father said. Then they apparently stopped talking, because she ran out of things to say almost immediately afterward. She had go to bed. She stuffed a few clothes into a duffel bag and took it with her into her room. *What are you doing? Where do you think that you're going?* "I don't know. Anywhere. I'd rather be alone than treated like a fucking infant. I'm 18 years old and I don't need to live here anymore if I don't want to. I'm sick of this shit. If you want me to be a fucking baby again then I will be, but I'm leaving first." she said. *Do you think that you can do better on your own than you have done with us? Are you sick of the food we give you, the clothes we buy you, the house that we own, the care that we give you? Then get out. See if surviving on your own is really so much better than being babied for your own good.* "I am. It can't be any worse than this. And it isn't your decision or your choice to make. It's mine, and the decision has been made. 'Happy birthday' to me," she said. *Even if you deserve to be treated like an adult, then you don't deserve to be treated like the adult that you have become. You should feel bad about yourself.* "Oh, I do. And you should too," she said. At that moment, she was overcome with a dreadful sadness. What was she doing with her life? How was she screwing everything up so badly? She felt worst than she had ever felt before. She felt empty and sickened and apparently dead. Pain. Darkness. Death. Then she was in the bathroom. All of the sadness was gone. She didn't even know what she was doing in the bathroom. Was it in the morning? Was she about to go to bed? She was wearing the same clothes that she had worn to her little wangst party, but they were cold and wet and covered in little sticks and stains and little, rounded stones. And what the hell was she doing in the bathroom? Was she going to take a bath or a shower? Was she already done? The mirror was more helpful. When she stared into the mirror for a moment, she realized that she was looking at the face of a woman a few years older than she was. A few years? She was 18 years old! "What the fuck?" she said. *What the hell do you mean 'what the fuck?'? You know exactly what is going on. How could you possibly have forgotten that you are sick? Why are you talking to yourself?* "How long?" she said. *How long what?* "How long have I been sick? How long have I been in the coma?" she asked. *How long has you dad been out of a job

A misanthropic, anti-social, introverted loner discovers that they have the ability to teleport themselves anywhere in the world instantly. Where do they go and how do they get send postcards of themselves in a coma to all of his or her closest friends and family?

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