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Stephen King

Cell

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Civilization slipped into its second dark age on an unsurprising track of blood, but with a speed that could not have been foreseen by even the most pessimistic futurist. It was as if it had been waiting to go. On October 1, God was in His heaven, the stock market stood at 10,140, and most of the planes were on time (except for those landing and taking off in Chicago, and that was to be expected). Two weeks later the skies belonged to the birds again and the stock market was a memory. By Halloween, every major city from New York to Moscow stank to the empty heavens and the world as it had been was a memory.
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Kutipan

  • Oleg Speranskiymembuat kutipan7 tahun yang lalu
    put your imaginations on hold
  • Anahi Martinez Pinedamembuat kutipan8 tahun yang lalu
    The event that came to be known as the pulse began at 3:03 p.m., eastern standard time, on the afternoon of October 1. The term was a misnomer, of course, but within ten hours of the event, most of the scientists capable of pointing this out were either dead or insane. The name hardly mattered, in any case. What mattered was the effect.
    At three o'clock on that day, a young man of no particular importance to history came walking—almost bouncing —east along Boylston Street in Boston. His name was Clayton Riddell. There was an expression of undoubted contentment on his face to go along with
  • Oleg Speranskiymembuat kutipan8 tahun yang lalu
    I'd pretty well made up my mind

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