День триффидов
The Groping City
Hewas,sotospeak,normallyblind.Hisdarkglassesweremuchlessdisturbingthanthestaringbutuselesseyesoftheothers.
"Standstill,then,"hesaid."I’vealreadybeenbumpedintobyGodknowshowmanyfoolstoday.Whatthedevil’shappened?Whyisitsoquiet?Iknowitisn’tnight—Icanfeelthesunlight.What’sgonewrongwitheverything?"
ItoldhimasmuchasIknewofwhathadhappened.
WhenIhadfinishedhesaidnothingforalmostaminute,thenhegaveashort,bitterlaugh.
"There’sonething,"hesaid."They’llbeneedingalltheirdamnedpatronageforthemselvesnow."
Withthathestraightenedup,alittledefiantly.
"Thankyou.Goodluck,"hesaidtome,andsetoffwestwardwearinganexaggeratedairofindependence.
ThesoundofhisbrisklyconfidenttappinggraduallydiedawaybehindmeasImademywayupPiccadilly.
Thereweremorepeopletobeseennow,andIwalkedamongthescatterofstrandedvehiclesintheroad.OutthereIwasmuchlessdisturbingtothosewhowerefeelingtheirwayalongthefrontsofthebuildings,foreverytimetheyheardastepclosebytheywouldstopandbracethemselvesagainstapossiblecollision.Suchcollisionsweretakingplaceeverynowandthenalldownthestreet,buttherewasonethatIfoundsignificant.Thesubjectsofithadbeengropingalongashopfrontfromoppositedirectionsuntiltheymetwithabump.Onewasayoungmaninawell-cutsuit,butwearingatieobviouslyselectedbytouchalone;theother,awomanwhocarriedasmallchild.
