Porthole!
"So that's it!" I yipped. "Shanghaied!"
I made a dive for the porthole, pressed my nose to it, hoping that across the bounding blue I might see at least one faint ribbon of good old terra firma.
But there was no land. There was no bounding blue. There weren't even any clouds or sky! There was—just gray. Wan, dismal gray that seemed to stretch into infinity!
It was plain that I needed either one less drink or one more. I settled for the latter. A long, straight one. It snapped me hurriedly out of my speechlessness.
"Not that it's any of my business," I said, "but it looks to me like there's nothing outside that porthole but a lot of gray emptiness."
My companion nodded dolefully.
"Yeah," he said, "I know. I've looked—and looked."
"Where I come from, space usually has things stuffed inside it. So apparently I'm not there. Which being the case, would you mind telling me where the hell I am?" I demanded.