MOONLIGHT - pilot encore 12/21

plank bed, and a stool to sit on. They
had given him a bath, and they allowed him to wash himself fairly
frequently in a tin basin. They even gave him warm water to wash with. They
had given him new underclothes and a clean suit of overalls. They had
dressed his varicose ulcer with soothing ointment. They had pulled out the
remnants of his teeth and given him a new set of dentures.
Weeks or months must have passed. It would have been possible now to
keep count of the passage of time, if he had felt any interest in doing so,
since he was being fed at what appeared to be regular intervals. He was
getting, he judged, three meals in the twenty-four hours; sometimes he
wondered dimly whether he was getting them by night or by day. The food was
surprisingly good, with meat at every third meal. Once there was even a
packet of cigarettes. He had no matches, but the never-speaking guard who
brought his food would give him a light. The first time he tried to smoke
it made him sick, but he persevered, and spun the packet out for a long
time, smoking half a cigarette after each meal.
They had given him a white slate with a stump of pencil tied to the
corner. At first he made no use of it. Even when he was awake he was
completely torpid. Often he would lie from one meal to the next almost
without stirring, sometimes asleep, sometimes waking into vague reveries in
which it was too much trouble to open his eyes. He had long grown used to
sleeping with a strong light on his face. It seemed to make no difference,
except that one's dreams we