Now, Morag heard singing. I Wish I Was A Spaceman / The Fastest Guy Alive… It sounded like a TV theme tune.

“Good Christ,” Ted said. “I haven’t heard that in thirty years.”

“It sounds like kids” TV.”

“So it is, my dear. But long before your time.”

They entered the Dry Dam and came on a line of people. They were dressed in some kind of purple uniform, and they were sitting in a loose circular arc that embraced the hillside, and they were singing.

I’d Fly Around The Universe…

They were mostly slim to the point of thinness. They didn’t seem cold, despite the paucity of their clothes, the keenness of the wind up here. They were singing with a happy-clappy gusto.

There was a boy standing at the centre of the loose arc, age eighteen or so, skinny as a rake. When he saw Ted and Morag approaching he got to his feet, a little stiffly, and approached.

“Welcome,” he said. “My name is Bran.”

“Now then, Hamish,” Ted said stiffly.

Morag glanced at Ted. “You know this gentleman?”

“Used to.”

“Would you mind telling me what you’re doing up here, sir?”

“Watching the Moonseed, of course,” Bran-Hamish said.

“The Moonseed?”

“All this started just after that Moon rock was brought to the university. And Venus, of course. Fantastic, isn’t it? Two thousand years of waiting—”

Morag walked forward. The members of the group, still singing, looked up at her. Before each of them there was a small cairn, of broken fragments of basalt. When she looked further up the slope, she saw broken ground, exposed silver dust, loose vegetation floating on the dust. Another pool. The smell of ozone was sharp.

“Every morning we mark it with a cairn,” Bran said. “And every morning it has come further down the slope.”

“You’re a fruitcake,” Ted said bluntly.

“Maybe,” Bran said amiably. “But at least we’re here. Where are the scientists, the TV crews, the coppers—”

Morag thought she could answer that. She imagined her own desk sergeant fending off nutcase reports from dog-walkers, about an oddity no one could classify.

Morag frowned, pointing up the slope. “Where are the other cairns? The ones from yesterday, and the day before.”

“Gone,” Bran said simply. “Consumed, every morning. Like your fry-up breakfasts, Ted.”

Morag straightened her cap. “Sir, I think you’d be advised to come away from here.”

Bran spread his hands. “Why? Are we breaking the law?”

“No. And I can’t compel you to move.”

“Well, then.”

She pointed to the dust. “But it’s obviously not safe.”

“We’ve never been safer. Not since the Romans came have we been so — close.”

Ted pulled a face at Morag. “I told you. Fruitcake.”

Bran-Hamish just laughed, and resumed his seat with the others.

Morag and Ted walked away.

“Well,” Ted said. “Now you’ve seen it. What are you going to do?”

Morag hesitated.