In The Martian Chronicles (1950), another fix-up novel, Ray Bradbury returns time and again to the trope of the abandoned city, as mass migrations from town to country and from one planet to another render cities obsolete.
It was time to lead these horses out somewhere off the desert and unstring them.
He walked-ran day after day although it was a living bore, the sameness, the ritual. This extraordinary world—is this how life wants me to live it? But he ran to keep himself on keel, to wind himself into work the next morning.
‘You might just as well,’ continued she, ‘praise the carvings upon a Wycherley comb, so carefully preserved by the collectors of old china and such gimcracks.’
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