As you may recall, he had thought he was on his way home. He was rather
unnerved by the fact that things were not as they seemed.
He stood and walked around the walls, feeling carefully for anything
unusual. Sure enough, about halfway around, he found a crack in the wall
- a regular, door-like crack. He carefully searched for a hidden catch,
and finally was able to find it. The door came ajar, and he slipped
through it.
He found himself in a boiler room. The humidity in the room was
oppressive. He went down two or three steps and walked across the
cluttered room, threading his way between equipment and boxes and parts
and other things that were apparently being stored there.
It wasn't the changing reality, in particular, that bothered him. It was
the principle of the thing. If something *was*, it ought to *be*, he
thought. It only made sense!
He went up two or three steps on the opposite end of the room, and
paused at the door there. Bracing himself, he pushed the door open and
stepped through.
He looked down from the top of a windmill.
He shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment, but when he reopened
them, he was still in the same place. He briefly wished he had a
parachute, so he could just jump down, but realizing the futility of
that line of thought, he looked around for another way down.
At least, he thought, I have plenty of ammunition, thanks to
the "generosity" of my superior officers. He checked his weapon,
relieved to find that it hadn't changed in any way.
He spotted a rope off to the side. When he tossed one end over the edge
of the mill roof, he found that it was actually a rope ladder. He
started down.