* * * * *
Somewhere between then and now I'd been stripped of my sopping clothes
and garbed in one of their woolen cloaks. It didn't itch as I'd
imagined it would. In fact, I was quite comfortable. I wasn't hungry
or thirsty either. I judged by this that it had been only a few hours
since I'd caught the ball, which apparently was some kind of knockout
drop, and been transferred to this cubic prison and its automatic
lighting.
I got off the couch and explored. The walls, floor and ceiling were
made of a gray metallic substance, neither cold nor warm to the touch.
The couch was nothing more than an extension of the floor--two feet
high and seven feet long--with half a dozen thick brown woolen blankets
over it. There was no crack or seam in any wall to indicate a door and
no vent to bring in the clean air I was breathing. I sat down, baffled.