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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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- Стр. 207/641
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A
battered
yellow
taxi
draws
up
beside
him
and
,
grateful
to
be
able
to
abandon
his
train
of
thought
,
Salim
gets
in
.
The
back
seat
is
patched
with
gray
duct
tape
;
the
half
-
open
Plexiglas
barrier
is
covered
with
notices
warning
him
not
to
smoke
,
telling
him
how
much
to
pay
to
the
various
airports
.
The
recorded
voice
of
somebody
famous
he
has
never
heard
of
tells
him
to
remember
to
wear
his
seatbelt
.
"
The
Paramount
Hotel
,
please
,
"
says
Salim
.
The
cab
driver
grunts
,
and
pulls
away
from
the
curb
,
into
the
traffic
.
He
is
unshaven
,
and
he
wears
a
thick
,
dust
-
colored
sweater
,
and
black
plastic
sunglasses
.
The
weather
is
gray
,
and
night
is
falling
:
Salim
wonders
if
the
man
has
a
problem
with
his
eyes
.
The
wipers
smear
the
street
scene
into
grays
and
smudged
lights
.
From
nowhere
,
a
truck
pulls
out
in
front
of
them
,
and
the
cab
driver
swears
in
Arabic
,
by
the
beard
of
the
Prophet
.
Salim
stares
at
the
name
on
the
dashboard
,
but
he
cannot
make
it
out
from
here
.
"
How
long
have
you
been
driving
a
cab
,
my
friend
?
"
he
asks
the
man
,
in
Arabic
.
"
Ten
years
,
"
says
the
driver
,
in
the
same
language
.
"
Where
are
you
from
?
"
"
Muscat
,
"
says
Salim
.
"
In
Oman
.
"
"
From
Oman
.
I
have
been
in
Oman
.
It
was
a
long
time
ago
.
Have
you
heard
of
the
city
of
Ubar
?
"
asks
the
taxi
driver
.
