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From the Black/White vignette.

Blacktop. Bridge. Falling...... falling...... water below. Tuck head to chest, pull knees up to chest, brace for .....

Impact. Turquoise blue water, soft, enveloping - cushioned my entry. Still falling, but slower now. Water unusually viscous. Ten... fifteen feet below surface, bright sun visible above. Have enough breath, can make it - wait ! what's that ? Shar-

"Unhhhh !"

He woke, sat bolt upright in the narrow bed, pulling the thin cotton coverlet with him. It was soaked through with sweat, a jagged transparent patch of cotton through against which his thick, short chest hairs bristled. It took two or three seconds for his eyes to change focus from the inner to the exterior mind, another second for them to adjust to the low light filtering from an aperture behind him.

A plastiformed chair was overturned at the foot of the bed, despite its heft. The blue jersey and jacket it had supported were strewn on the smooth concrete floor. His breath came in ragged gasps; the horror of a waking nightmare was receding though his body remained in flight mode.

"What the hell - ?" he thought, then, rephrasing, "Where the hell is this ?"

He felt the heavy anchor of panic he had cast off poised to return, like the opposite end of a child's playground seesaw.

Be rational. Get a grip. Hang on for a second. It'll come to you.

A quick glance behind him ascertained that the light was natural, not artificial. Its metalllic tint was due to the polarised double-thick panes and the low angle of the descending sun.

Evening.