George sat up, feeling the aching lump behind his left ear. Stretching his legs before him, he saw that they were clothed in vivid green tights, and ended in slightly darker pointed shoes of the same shade. He put a hand to his chest, and felt a heavily brocaded vest, culminating in a ruff at his neck.
"Oh, shit," he said. "This can't be happening!"
Across the room, sprawled on the stone flags, he caught sight of John, who appeared to be dressed the same way, but in blue and gold, and with a peaked cap lying next to him on the floor.
Soon, the other Beatles came to life around him, and tried to make sense of
where they were.
John was less than enthralled.
"I've seen some bloody awful dressin' rooms, but this just about caps all!"
George and Ringo agreed.
"I mean, at least in 'amburg we could take a piss out the window!"
There was certainly no denying that. A careful inspection of the chamber hadn't revealed anything like a restroom. And - much to John's amusement - not so much as a window, either.
Paul, ever optimistic, broke in with, "Maybe there was a safety issue! Like back in the Philippines?" It seemed to make sense until George remembered the first thing he had noticed.
"But that doesn't explain why we're dressed like this."
A sudden chill fell over the group.
Two hours later, there had been a change of scene. They were now sitting in a
vast, vaulted hall, around a pine table. A lady in a veil came and went, and
came again. The second time she came, she bought another lady, dressed more
the way they themselves were. She wore a wine-colored dress with a long
train. Her brown over-dress was lined with fur and trimmed with gold. She
carried with her...
...A small leather bag.
They were puzzled, to say the least.
She spoke, in a clear, haughty voice. "It is not my will that you know why you have been brought here. It is enough that you know that you are no longer in your own time or place. That man-" she pointed at John "-brought you here, by a thoughtless slur in his own time. This is his punishment. Now, in our time, he will bring you back."
John had broken out in a cold sweat. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"How?" he asked.
She produced the bag, and placed it on the table before him. "Logic," she said.
The problem was a simple, theoretical one. Hypothetically, there were two marbles in the bag, neither of which had been seen, and both of which were known to be either black or white. Another marble, which is white, is put (hypothetically) in the bag. A marble is taken out, which proves to be white.
What is the probability that the next marble taken out will be white?
John figured it out...can you?
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