He smelled the rank odors of oil and aging garbage as he laid facedown in the dark. His ear was pressed against the floor, and he no longer heard the constant hum of the tunnels exhaust systems, which meant he was no longer in Level F3. The ground turbulence and rumble of an automobile engine suggested he was in a primitive form of travel.
His natural instinct was to panic, but he did not have the luxury of being himself, so he moved to induction. His body failed to respond as he struggled to roll on to his back; he was restricted by the neuron-isolation restraints. He saw the all-black suits and distinguishable black hair of the drivers; he knew who his captors were. What he did not know was his location or where he was headed.