The tubeless tyres hummed over the tarmac and slipstream wind buffeted Adam’s face as he hurtled down the hill on his orange racing cycle. Behind him he heard the clunk of gears and some accompanying grunts of effort, as his friend and current rival in the Downhill Race, Barry Elmore – known as Elm – made a supreme and determined effort to overtake him.

          Adam shook his head and grinned. No way was Elm going to catch him on that piece of junk, not if he could help it. He lowered his head and pedalled harder, slowly widening the gap between himself and the grunting boy.

          At the bottom of the hill was the spice factory. It was semi-closed now, with only two of the twenty-five warehouses still in operational use – and those two were only used to hold imported spices. Adam supposed that the two warehouses being still in use was what warranted the gatehouse and its resident security officer. However, he felt it was unlikely that anyone in their right mind would really want to steal two thousand tons of bay leaves.

          Just past the spice factory, the road levelled out for a few metres, then rose again as it bridged the old railway line. The centre of the bridge marked the finish line of the Downhill Race. Directly over the bridge’s centre were the power lines – high-tension cables that carried three hundred thousand volts and which buzzed with a barely-restrained, endless and terrible power.

          Adam sped past the gatehouse and waved to Vic Britten, the security officer who always worked the weekend shift. Vic smiled and raised his hand in acknowledgement, then sat and then continued reading the paperback novel he was enjoying. The novel was of far more interest to him than the overly-familiar sight of the two boys racing towards the bridge.

          As Adam started up the gradient, his bicycle began to slow of its own volition. It was then that the grunting boy overtook him. With a cry of triumph, Elm tore past Adam, pedalling furiously. Adam watched him race past, no longer interested in the Downhill Race, for suddenly – although not unexpectedly – the cables were in view. He could see them quite clearly and he was very afraid. As he stared apprehensively at them, he saw them begin to sway gently in the morning air despite the lack of breeze. Dread welled up inside him.