By Frank Herbert
Santaroga appeared to be not anything greater than a wealthy farm group. yet there has been whatever . . . varied . . . approximately Santaroga.Santaroga had no juvenile delinquency, or any crime in any respect. Outsiders came upon no condo on the market or hire during this valley, and nobody ever moved out. not anyone received cigarettes in Santaroga. No cheese, wine, beer or produce from open air the valley may be bought there. The record went on and on and grew stranger and stranger.Maybe Santaroga used to be the final outpost of yank individualism. perhaps they have been only a bunch of spiritual kooks. . . .Or probably there has been anything awesome at paintings in Santaroga. whatever way more demanding than an individual may think.
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Additional info for The Santaroga Barrier
Not here in the valley," Dasein said. " He shrugged. " "You damn' natives," the driver growled. The Imperial shot ahead in a surge of power, swerved out onto the avenue and was gone. "Up yours," Dasein muttered. " He climbed into his truck, turned back the way he had come. At the fork, he headed up the mountain toward Porterville. The road climbed up, up -- winding its way out of the redwoods and into a belt of oaks. He came at last to the turn off where he'd taken his first long look at the valley.
The ceiling moved. There was another room around him: like the first one -- tall ceiling, even the sound of dripping water. He felt a bed beneath his back, hands beginning to undress him. Sudden nausea gripped him. Dasein pushed the hands away. Someone helped him to the bathroom where he was sick. He felt better afterward -weak, but with a clearer head, a better sense of control over his muscles. He saw it was Piaget who'd helped him. " Piaget asked. " "I'll give you a good shot of iron to counteract the gas effect on your blood," Piaget said.
Marden asked. " "You. Several times. We knew they'd get to you sooner or later. " Marden shook his head. "We circulated a photograph of you to key people -- waiters, waitresses, bartenders, clerks . " "Service station attendants," Dasein said. The pattern was becoming clear. He made no attempt to conceal his anger. How dared they? Marden was sweet reasonableness. "They were bound to get wind of the fact that one of our girls was sweet on you," he said. "That's an edge, you understand. " Dasein demanded.