GM   Megan awoke in an almost featureless white room. She could barely see where the walls and ceiling began and ended. A soft light filled the room.    A bookcase, antique and filled with tomes she recognised, swam into view.    Then the soft leather couch she was lying on.    Then an oak desk, and leather chair, the man, an old man, sitting on it, maybe seventy or eighty, bald, weathered but healthy, and somewhat familiar...   And Anders, the same Anders, standing by her aside.