As night fell, the Stranger and his horse came unexpectedly upon a maze of tall misshapen cliffs above dry riverbeds. A sole point of light shone high overhead. The Stranger and his horse climbed the steep and narrow roads until they reached the entrance to a cave.

A cabochon hanging from a metal pole driven into the ground cast bright yellow light.

“Gather round, gather round, boys and girls, here come the clowns!”

The Stranger stepped into the cave. The hermit stood in the centre of the ring, wearing a red tailcoat and a top hat. In his hand he held a whip which he swished through the air.

“Step right up, step right up, see the moving statues and the shadow puppeteers, see the one-eyed lady and the man who makes ducats disappear, marvel at the Stranger as he meanders on his way—”

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” the Stranger said.

The ringmaster shrugged. “The road to the Plant of Heartbeat is long and filled with pain. Uncertainty is certain. Tiny forms in huge, empty spaces.”

“This is just another maze,” the Stranger said. “Just another snare in the Escapement.”

He drew his gun and put it to the ringmaster’s head.

“I want out,” he said.

“This way to the Egress,” the ringmaster said.

He gestured. Around them the cave expanded, disappeared. The Stranger saw the aerialists high above, leaping nimbly. He smelled popcorn and cotton candy and sweat. There were people in the stands all around the ring, cheering. A ballyhoo swept the stage. A charivari of clowns rushed onto the ring and began jumping into the air on giant trampolines.

“You can’t shoot me,” the ringmaster said, but gently. The Stranger turned and looked and he saw that the ringmaster now bore the Stranger’s own face. He stared at his own reflection.

“Let me out,” he whispered.

“Just follow the signs,” his self said.

The Stranger squeezed the trigger. The water pistol jerked in his hand as a weak stream of water hit the ringmaster’s face. His face ran down with paint. The people in the stands cheered. The Stranger threw the useless pistol on the ground. An arrow sign, lit by coloured cabochons, pointed deeper into the cave. He followed the sign. this way to the egress.

The noise of the crowds receded behind him. He passed the tigers’ cages. He passed the backyard of the circus called the G-Top, where a group of grafters and gauchos and joeys were drinking and playing cards. He passed a grease joint. He came to the Midway. It was surrounded by sucker netting. He passed through, passed rubbermen and spec girls, ropers and web girls, until he came at last to the concessions stand.