It brought me halfway through the screen, halfway through the wall at
the base of the building. The other side of the screen. The solid side,
I found, stepping through, bracing a hand on the image.
Looking up fourteen floors, I saw an unbroken line of peacefully closed
panes.
* * * * *
I remembered riding up in the elevator, the moments inside, the faint
feeling of vertigo. Of course, who was to say the elevator really
moved? Maybe they had only switched scenery on me while I was caught
inside, listening to the phony hum, seeing the flashing lights. Either
cut down or increase the oxygen supply inside the cubicle suddenly and
that would contribute a sensation of change, of movement. They had it
all worked out.
My fingers rubbed my head briskly, both hands working, trying to get
some circulation in my brain.