The Warrior Victorious

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The room was extremely clean, but also suffered from other sorts of extremes. For one thing, it was small and very bare and had no windows or closets or furniture except for the narrow bed—

For one thing. I stopped pacing and sat on the edge of the high bed, putting a hand to my head. Ever since I’d awakened in that tiny cell of a room my mind had been acting strangely, flying in all directions trying to get a grip on the reality Iii been dropped into from somewhere. At least I thought it was reality, but I wouldn’t have bet anything valuable on the possibility. I’d never seen a room like that before, with nothing in it but a bed, stark white ceiling and walls, and a warmly resilient matching white floor. Even the bed frame was rounded and very soft, made of something other than metal, and there had to be a door somewhere even if I couldn’t find it. The light was artificial and came from nowhere and everywhere, letting me see the thin white-garment-I’d awakened in. The thing had a round neck and sleeves that almost reached my elbows, but didn’t go down any farther than the middle of my thighs. It closed with a full-length frontal tab and didn’t quite show my otherwise naked body through its thin fabric, but I didn’t feel cold in it. The room was more than warm enough, no drafts and not stuffy and—

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