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My bus arrived at the takeover point precisely on time. Now all I had to do was drive it down to the outpost, up to the cross, then back here, and my duties for the day would be complete. With this in mind I sallied forth, paying little regard to the exact details of the schedule. As long as I didn’t get too close to the bus in front, I reasoned, then headway would be maintained (more or less).

I was mildly surprised, therefore, when I reached the southern outpost and a figure appeared on the pavement, urgently flagging me down.

It was Jason. He was wearing the smart black uniform of a fully-fledged inspector of buses.

“You’re early,” he said. “Why’s that?”

EOF