Ranma found himself in a small room, with walls painted with sky landscapes, though when Ranma looked closer, he realized that the clouds were moving.  He looked up at the ceiling and instantly flinched away, as there was a sun shining brightly.  He ran his hands over a wall and was surprised to feel a normal texture.
    “What kind of room is this?” He looked closely at the moving pictures on the wall, but was didn't see anything out of the ordinary.  “I can’t detect any illusion.”
    “That’s because it isn’t an illusion.”  Ranma whirled toward the origin of the voice.  A tall man stood at the other end of the room.  He appeared like an ordinary human, with dark hair and a short-trimmed beard.  His robe, on the other hand, was anything but ordinary.  Colored black that seemed to draw in the light in the robe, the man wore the robes as though they were a second skin.  Ranma gazed at the bands of bright light streaming and crisscrossing each other on the surface of the robes as though they were painted on.  The man spoke again, his voice rumbling forcefully yet without being loud at all.  “It is actually merely transparent material.  We are floating in the middle of the sky above the Pacific.”  Ranma had met several people like the man before, self-assured and powerful.  Ranma didn’t understand what the man, if he was even human, wanted with him, but he decided to take the safe approach: I.e., not to attempt to escape, but to ask the man some questions.  He put on a thoughtful face.
    “Uh huh.  Well then, good sir, why are we floating high above the Pacific Ocean?” The man chuckled.
    “Aren’t you more interested in knowing who I am?” Ranma, a little taken aback at his thoughts being read so easily, wasn’t able to stop himself from replying.
    “Ok, then, who are you?” The man floated over closer to Ranma.
    “You may call me Lord Jeram.”  Ranma frowned.  ‘Lord’ Jeram? Lord of what?
    “The title refers to the country I rule over.”  Lord Jeram said to Ranma’s surprise.
    “What?” Ranma thought.  “Can he read my thoughts?”
    “Not exactly,” Lord Jeram said.  “But your thoughts are practically being shouted to the metaphysical skies.  But not many would be able to so easily ‘hear’ even those shouted thoughts.  I am a Mental Master, a wearer of the black robes of the power.  I have come to this universe to talk to you.”  Ranma’s mind was still reeling, as he was trying to figure out exactly what this visitor was telling him.
    “Okay, but why exactly do you want to talk to me?”
    “Because I have been searching and searching through many universes, trying to find candidates for a special program I have devised.”
    Ranma frowned. “Oh yeah? What kind of ‘program’ is that?”
    Lord Jeram smiled. “You’ll see.”  He waved his hand, and instantly the two were in another room, this one as luxurious as any Ranma had ever seen.  Magnificent pieces of art were arranged throughout the room, while every piece of furniture, down to the smallest coaster, was a work of art.  Ranma found himself sitting in a luxurious chair, which seemed firm and downy at the same time.  The wood was a silky black, the armrests sculpted into the fierce countenance of a pouncing panther, while the cushions seemed to emulate the velvety nature of a great cat’s luxurious pelt.  Lord Jeram sat across from him, in a similarly designed chair, calmly observing Ranma’s reaction to the room.  “Like the accommodations? It took me months to find the greatest works of panther-related art.  And after all that, he didn’t even want them.”
    Ranma peered at the black robed man.  “Who didn’t want them?”
    Jeram smiled slightly.  “Just a friend.  As it turned out, he already had copies of most of these items already.  So I used them to spruce up this extra-dimensional subspace matrix.  Before it was mostly black with cascading energies lining the edges.  A nice effect, but hardly comfortable for guests.”
    Ranma breathed deeply.  “As much as I appreciate this whole.”  He waved his hands at the room.  “Accommodation, I would like to know why you’ve brought me here.”
    Jeram frowned.  “To be perfectly honest with you, Ranma, I thought that perhaps this place would help you transition more easily from your universe.  I’m sorry to see that you still having prolonged transitional anxiety.  And to answer your question, that means you have a condition where if you are displaced from your universe cluster of origin, you experience a form of hypertension.”  He sighed, and Ranma realized that he was indeed feeling rather anxious, and he released his tight hold of the armrests of his chair.  “Well, I suppose there’s nothing to be do except be done with it.”  Lord Jeram waved his hand, and before Ranma could react, he found himself in another place.