ABSTRACT
Calgary, Canada, is the city of oil business, cowboys, beer, and what remains of its fame as an Olympics place. It is the town where the weather is cool in summer, the sky is clear, the air is dry, and the trees and flowers look and smell like in Russia. Its downtown, like most U.S. middle-sized cities, is a concentration of the reflections of skyscrapers, mirroring the blue sky on a sunny day or generating blackness, seemingly coming from within, when it rains. On weekends, it is completely dead—a horrifying no-man's land, abandoned by civilization. The city's population, according to a city development project, lives in the suburban residential area, surrounding the business center, in little or big houses, with neatly manicured lawns. The city and its life is so structured and organized that the impression is terrifying: There is something super- or almost nonhuman about it.
