Mister Brown had denied me permission to leave the House on Midsummer’s Eve, stating that as it was the weekend there would not be enough security men to accompany me.

As I did not want security men, I resolved to go anyway, to walk up to the stone circle known locally as the Dancing Boys. It had become a tradition with me, and I particularly did not want to break it this year, as I was not in my own continuum but had been decoyed to that one by the local version of James Brown – who I called J.B. – when I returned with the equipment used by Fashion Furs to subjugate another version of Earth to do its will.

I had deliberately been withdrawn and solitary for a week or more before the Solstice, and so it was not difficult to leave the House undetected. I had been in charge of security at one such House for many years, and knew that it was possible to avoid the sensors. I also knew that my night vision was superior to most men’s, so I dressed myself in my modern Morrison kilt and plaid, put on a dark beret and hose, soft soled shoes, and went out of a window as soon as it was dark enough.

I knew that if I was detected there would be no alarm raised, not audible to me at least, but my confidence increased as I avoided the patrols and saw them go on their way exactly to schedule. There were the wanderers to avoid, and I had calculated that I was likely to encounter three of them, so my heart raced when as I approached the wall I saw a fourth, but I reassured myself that probability is not an exact science. As I watched him coming closer I wondered if he had already detected me, but when he was ten metres from where I crouched, he turned and went towards the House.

I counted to fifty, listening, then I waited a little longer, and finally I crossed to where there was a tree with a branch that had overgrown the wall. I climbed up and inched out onto the branch, which slowly sank down further, so that I was able to lower myself from it and drop to the ground, outside the walls.

A startled animal scampered away, the scent of the green lane and its hedge was welcoming, but it was very dark. I followed the smell of fox along the lane, until I came to a junction where I could turn from East to North, and then I let instinct take me towards the ridge, travelling an erratic route along the green lanes ever steeper and less trodden, until I came to the end of them and I knew that I had to climb the last hundred yards or so onto the ridge top, to the ancient pathway on the highest contour of the ridge.

I was not quite sure where I had reached it, and if I should turn to the left or the right, but as I turned and looked, I saw the Dancing Boys outlined against the sky to my right – and they did indeed seem to be moving as I tried to make them out against the Eastern sky.

I walked towards the circle, my footsteps and heartbeat seemed to be very loud, my breathing was like a gale in my ears. In the darkness I collided with something very solid, and cried out as my knee struck stone. I put my hands out and realised that I had found the stones which used to mark the direction of Midwinter sunset, but which had toppled and were leaning drunkenly against each other and pointing towards the circle.

I rubbed my knee and sat down beside the stones.

My knee throbbed, but I judged that the dawn was some time off, so I waited there and watched the stars, picking out the constellations as they turned in the great dance.