"Ellison-SensibleCity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ellison Harlan)

The car was slowing. Gropp craned his neckless neck to get a proper perspective
on the fuel gauge. He was a pragmatic kind of a guy, no nonsense, and very
practical, but they were out of gas.

The Firebird slowed and slowed and finally rolled to a stop.

In the rearview mirror Gropp saw the green fog rolling up thicker onto the
roadway; and emerging over the berm, in a jostling, slavering horde, clacking
and drooling, dropping decayed body parts and leaving glistening trails of worm
ooze as they dragged their deformed pulpy bodies across the blacktop, their
snake-slit eyes gleaming green and yellow in the mist, the residents of
Obedience dawed and slithered and crimped toward the car.

It was common sense any Better Business Bureau would have applauded: if the
tourist trade won't come to your town, take your town to the tourists.
Particularly if the freeway has forced commerce to pass you by. Particularly if
your town needs fresh blood to prosper. Particularly if you have the civic need
to share.

Green fog shrouded the Pontiac, and the peculiar sounds that came from within.
Don't go into that dark room is a sensible attitude. Particularly in a sensible
city.