"Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency" - читать интересную книгу автора (Adams Douglas)

And then the glow appeared again near the tower's peak,
this time growing in power more purposefully. It quickly
reached the peak of brightness it had previously attained, and
then kept going, increasing, increasing. The keening sound that
accompanied it rose in pitch and stridency until it became a
wailing scream. The scream screamed on and on till it became a
blinding noise and the light a deafening redness.
And then, abruptly, both ceased.
There was a millisecond of silent darkness.
An astonishing pale new light billowed and bulged from
deep within the mud beneath the tower. The sky clenched, a
mountain of mud convulsed, earth and sky bellowed at each
other, there was a horrible pinkness, a sudden greenness, a
lingering orangeness that stained the clouds, and then the
light sank and the night at last was deeply, hideously dark.
There was no further sound other than the soft tinkle of water.
But in the morning the suri rose with an unaccustomed
sparkle on a day that was, or seemed to be, or at least would
have seemed to be if there had been anybody there to whom it
could seem to be anything at all, warmer, clearer and brighter
- an altogether tivelier day than any yet known. A clear river
ran through the shattered remains of the valley.
And time began seriously to pass.

Chapter Two...

High on a rocky promontory sat an Electric Monk on a bored
horse. From under its rough woven cowl the Monk gazed
unblinkingly down into another valley, with which it was having
a problem.
The day was hot, the sun stood in an empty hazy sky and
beat down upon the grey rocks and the scrubby, parched grass.
Nothing moved, not even the Monk. The horse's tail moved a
little, swishing slightly to try and move a little air, but
that was all. Otherwise, nothing moved.
The Electric Monk was a labour-saving device, like a
dishwasher or a video recorder. Dishwashers washed tedious
dishes for you, thus saving you the bother of washing them
yourself, video recorders watched tedious television for you,
thus saving you the bother of looking at it yourself; Electric
Monks believed things for you, thus saving you what was
becoming an increasingly onerous task, that of believing all
the things the world expected you to believe.
Unfortunately this Electric Monk had developed a fault,
and had started to believe all kinds of things, more or less at
random. It was even beginning to believe things they'd have
difficulty believing in Salt Lake City. It had never heard of
Salt Lake City, of course. Nor had it ever heard of a
quingigillion, which was roughly the number of miles between
this valley and the Great Salt Lake of Utah.