Prologue

Within a gloomy warehouse men are hauling heavy bundles wrapped in cloth. They are carrying them on their shoulders up a ramp and dropping them over a rail into a huge canvas cylinder which is being packed by men using a sort of paddle to push them into the mass of bundles already swelling the cylinder.

From time to time the supports of the bag are adjusted so as to lift the as yet unfilled portion of it to the rail, and to draw the distended lower part closer to the far wall.

The work goes on relentlessly. There are men dressed in smart turquoise uniforms directing the workers. Although they carry no weapons their disapproval sends the brown clad workers scurrying like frightened mice across the floor of the building to fetch more of the bundles which are being brought from a delivery area with numerous bays. The delivery vehicles are horse, or rather pony drawn wagons. Each one has four or six rather unkempt ponies and the harness is of poor quality too, with worn out padding replaced with wadded rags, broken straps dangle. The little beasts stand with lowered heads. They have been driven hard, and yet they have had no care. Their coats are wet with sweat and they are shivering in the chill beneath the overhang, which casts its shadow upon them.

At last the wagons are all unloaded and the bundles are packed into the canvas bag. The men in turquoise order the men in brown to haul up the bag so it hangs horizontally in the air. When they are satisfied that it is positioned correctly there is a silence, and then a gentle susurration begins. At one end of the bag a blue green circle appears. At first it is not exactly aligned with the bag, but it rotates, and then in one rapid movement it traverses the bag, which vanishes as the circle passes over it. When it has entirely gone the circle stops, and hangs there for a few minutes. The ropes which held the bag now hang free.

The men in turquoise watch and wait. The circle sinks towards the floor, rotates until it is horizontal and then rises to reveal a white cylinder. The men walk towards it, and a door opens. They file inside and seat themselves, the door is closed. A man in brown garments rises from the top of the cylinder and jumps to the floor, then sprints away as the circle descends, missing him by inches.

The circle hovers for a few seconds, and then vanishes. Silence descends.

The workers turn on the newcomer and shout at him for risking so much to travel on the ring car. He does not argue, but apologises quietly. Eventually the men begin to leave on the wagons, leaving the newcomer behind.

He stands and watches them go for a few moments, then looks around to get his bearings before setting off across country at a slow but steady pace.