Storm by George R. Stewart

Author:George R. Stewart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New York Review Books
Published: 2021-08-17T00:00:00+00:00

15

In the City, as if symbolic of a new regime, the great banners no longer flew from the high towers. Here and there some smaller flag rode out the storm—tossed and whipped in the south wind, its colors dulled and sodden.

Wisps of fast-driven scud swirled around the bare flag-poles, and lower—until the tops of the towers were dim in the cloud. By the clocks it was day, but lights shone from the windows. Stone-work was dark with wetness. Under the high archways of the portals people huddled, peering out for street-cars, signaling cabs.

Water spattered upon the sidewalks in rain-drops. Water ran in the gutters; it gurgled through the gratings of the storm drains; it dropped from awnings and cornices; it cascaded from broken drain-pipes.

Sleek wet asphalt reflected the glow of neon lights in long unreal lines of pink and blue. Drivers of cars leaned forward nervously, peering through the windshield-wipers. The professionals—truck- and taximen—sped along as nonchalantly as ever; their impudent wheels threw water from the puddles; pedestrians drew back, fearful or angry. Street-cars came along stolidly; from beneath their wheels little sprays of water flew sideways.

The flower-stands no longer glowed with sun-bright colors; the vendors did little business; they covered the blooms with water-proofs, and hoped for a better day. Newsboys no longer pre-empted the best corners; now they withdrew toward sheltered spots and guarded their papers against the wet; when they made a sale, they quickly drew the folded paper out and handed it to the customer.

On the sidewalks fewer people moved along. They no longer strode boldly, heads up and confident faces, as they had a few days before, when the Pacific High ruled the air and the northwest wind swirled through the sunlit city. Now in an environment suddenly grown half-aquatic, they scurried along, uncomfortable, in costumes only partly adapted to the rain. Men’s hats, dripping water, lost symmetry and spruceness; below overcoats, trouser legs collapsed damply; shoes lost all trace of shine, or disappeared beneath clumsy rubbers. Pink, green, and blue, women’s raincoats put up a brave front, but the color was infirm and chalky with no touch of gayety. And below the raincoats, shoes and clammy silk stockings were spattered and muddy. The very faces of men and women were hidden beneath umbrellas; as people passed at the corners, the umbrellas clicked and tangled.

And all the while, sprung of the forces of sun and earth, part of a vast system which covered the hemisphere, the south wind blew steadily. High above the wet sidewalks and the streaming gutters and the scurrying people, the hard-blown scud swirled about the towers and bare flag-poles; still higher was only the thick cloud-deck, and clean rain falling.

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