That gave him the answer, so far as he could determine it now. The screen was a barrier to living things. Dead or inorganic matter could cross it.
With that off his mind, Carson looked at his injured leg again. The bleeding was lessening, which meant he wouldn’t need to worry about~ making a tourniquet. But he should find some water, if any was available, to clean the wound.
Water—the thought of it made him realize that he was getting awfully thirsty. He’d have to find water, in case this contest turned out to be a protracted one.
Limping slightly now, he started off to make a circuit of his half of the arena. Guiding himself with one hand along the barrier, he walked to his right until he came to the curving sidewall. It was visible, a dull blue-grey at close range, and the surface of it felt just like the central barrier.
He experimented by tossing a handful of sand at it, and the sand reached the wall and disappeared as it went through. The hemispherical shell was a force-field, too, but an opaque one, instead of transparent like the barrier.
He followed it round until he came back to the barrier, and walked back along the barrier to the point from which he’d started.
No sign of water.
Worried now, he started a series of zigzags back and forth between the barrier and the wall, covering the intervening space thoroughly.
No water. Blue sand, blue bushes, and intolerable heat. Nothing else.
It must be his imagination, he told himself that he was suffering that much from thirst. How long had he been there? Of course, no time at all, according to his own space-time frame. The Entity had told him time stood still out there, while he was here. But his body processes went on here, just the same. According to his body’s reckoning, how long had he been here? Three or four hours, perhaps. Certainly not long enough to be suffering from thirst.