 What isn't something that the aliens control?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction December 1950. Above it her comely face was sullen beneath its sleek cocoon of auburn hair. Their captors had no idea of how a woven design should behave. Within the dome of the barrier, it looked more like a well-kept if bizarre little country estate. But the lawn was not of grass—it was of a bright green substance that might have been cellophane but wasn't, and it sprouted from a fabric that might have been canvas but was something else. They entered the house, which had no roof, continued to move beneath a sky that glowed with light which did not come from a sun or moon. Eudalia, who had borne twin girls recently, was lying back, newly thin and dark of skin and hair, smoking a scentless cigarette. Eudalia had been a female foreman in a garment-cutting shop before being captured and brought through. It arrived before the meal, materializing against one of the seven walls of the roofless chamber. Somehow it brings things closer...." This was so with all of their foods, with their cigarettes, with everything in their prison—or their cage. Their captors were utterly without a human conception of smell, living, apparently, in a world without odor at all. We seem to be in a universe of different properties as well as different dimensions. "But I'll settle for the fourth—a fourth dimension in space, if that makes scientific sense, because we don't seem to have moved in time.
 how the captives feel about being there
 how the captives feel about being there  what the captives eat  the captives' desires  where the captives live