Sodom and Gomorrah, Texas

In Short

Commissioned to document every living soul in a barren region called the Santa Magdalena, an unqualified census taker named Manuel blunders past human boundaries to tally a hidden civilization of tiny, ancient beings. When he returns decades later as a shrunken madman bearing a micro-filmed list of a million names, the town of High Plains eagerly certifies the data to inflate its municipal population. This bureaucratic fraud awakens furious, miniature overlords who possess world-destroying technology, leading directly to the total annihilation of the town and the creation of a twin-cratered state park.

The Story

Manuel, an impoverished laborer who cannot read a map but writes in a neat boyish hand, accepts a job as a census taker for the desolate Santa Magdalena sector in Texas. Warned strictly by his superiors to count only human beings and ignore animals, Manuel sets out alongside his mule Mula, whose ancestry he suspects includes a goat. After logging the nine regular residents of the nine-hundred-square-mile region and adding himself, Manuel crosses a fatal line of ambiguity: he decides to count the tiny, hidden people living beneath a spaded-open prairie-dog town known as Nuevo Danae.

Trapped by an encanto that forces him and Mula to tread a treadmill for thirty-five years, Manuel ages into a withered three-foot-tall midget while Mula eventually dies. When the spell finally breaks, Manuel and his mule steal the colossal micro-filmed census list of one million tiny names and flee back to civilization. Arriving in High Plains, Texas, Manuel encounters Mr. Marshal, an official desperately trying to meet a mayoral deadline to manufacture a population of ten thousand people. Marshal eagerly certifies the million-name list, making High Plains the fastest-growing city in the state, despite the skepticism of officials in Houston. Shortly after delivering his tale, Manuel quietly dies, just as Mula did before him.

That same night, Marshal is confronted in his bedroom by an arrogant, four-inch-tall tyrant from the subterranean city who demands the return of the stolen tax list. The diminutive martinet boasts that his people hold written title to the world and reveals that the ancient desolation of Sodom was caused by a devastating weapon the size of a grain of sand. Dismissing the threat of the bumbling human authorities, the tiny creature triggers the device before departing for Washington. High Plains is instantly blasted flat, reducing its population from over seven thousand to absolutely zero, and leaving behind two mysterious craters that inspire the creation of the Sodom and Gomorrah State Park.

How It Unfolds

• The journey begins — Manuel is hired as a census taker for the desolate Santa Magdalena despite his total lack of qualifications and inability to read a map. Instructed strictly to count only human beings, he sets out with his mule Mula into the blistering desert heat.
• The hidden count — After tallying the nine regular human residents of the vast region, Manuel decides to extend his survey to a subterranean civilization of tiny beings living beneath an old prairie-dog town. This fateful decision traps him and Mula on a mysterious treadmill for thirty-five years.
• The return of the midget — An aged, shrunken Manuel staggers into High Plains decades later carrying a microscopic list containing one million names. He finds Mr. Marshal, who is struggling to meet a municipal population quota and seizes upon the bizarre records to inflate the town's numbers.
• The midnight visitor — Following Manuel's quiet death, an arrogant four-inch-tall ruler appears on Marshal's bedside table to demand the return of the stolen tax records. Unfazed by human authority, the miniature tyrant boasts of owning the earth and reveals the origin of the ancient devastation at Sodom.
• The final blast — Dismissing human warnings, the tiny martinet triggers a microscopic weapon that obliterates High Plains completely. The wiped-out town is eventually slated to become a state park centered around two mysterious scenes of utter desolation.

The People

• Manuel is an unqualified, poor census taker who writes in a round boyish hand and knows his sector better than any mapmaker. He wants only to complete his assigned job conscientiously, but his confusion over instructions and inability to understand maps lead him to count the hidden tiny people. He ends up trapped for thirty-five years, returning as a shrunken, mad midget before dying quietly in exhaustion.
• Mr. Marshal is a busy civic official under intense pressure from the mayor and citizens' groups to produce a population of ten thousand people for High Plains. He wants to save his town from falling behind, which drives him to unquestioningly certify Manuel's absurdly inflated micro-film list. He ends up victimized and vaporized in his bed by the tiny, vengeful ruler he refuses to take seriously.
• Mula is Manuel's sparse, gaunt mule whose paternal grandfather may or may not have been a goat. She loyally accompanies Manuel into the desert and suffers through thirty-five years of the subterranean treadmill alongside him. She ends up dying quietly and practically unnoticed upon their return to civilization.

In Its Own Voice

Manuel shouldn't have been employed as a census taker.

This opening line establishes Manuel's lack of qualifications and sets the whimsical, deadpan tone for the bureaucratic absurdity that follows.

"A donkey! A jack! Two feet tall and with a beard and horns. I always thought that he was a goat."

Manuel reflects with rustic confusion upon the strange lineage of his hardworking mule, blending folk humor into the harsh desert setting.

"You gaping goof, I don't have time to explain that to you. I have to get to Washington."

The arrogant four-inch-tall visitor dismisses Marshal with supreme condescension just before triggering the catastrophe that wipes out High Plains.

What It's Really About

The story explores the dangerous absurdity of administrative classification, bureaucratic quotas, and the blind faith placed in official documentation. Lafferty examines how human systems of measurement—census counts, tax rolls, and map coordinates—collide violently with forces entirely outside human comprehension. The narrative questions the presumption of human dominance over the earth, suggesting that civilization is remarkably fragile when confronted by ancient, hidden realities that refuse to be neatly cataloged. By contrasting large-scale municipal vanity with microscopic power, the book satirizes small-town politics and the relentless American drive for growth at any cost.

Why Read It Today

Readers who love eccentric, boundary-pushing speculative fiction will find immense joy in this wildly imaginative tale. Reading Lafferty feels like stepping into an American tall tale crossed with dark, cosmic satire, told with a deadpan folkloric rhythm that makes the impossible feel completely matter-of-fact. What stays with you is the striking juxtaposition of mundane Texan bureaucracy with ancient, miniature horrors, creating an unforgettable blend of humor and sudden, chilling destruction. Contemporary readers should note that the story reflects mid-century rural Western vernacular and period attitudes toward its working-class and Mexican-American characters, yet these elements serve the timeless, fable-like quality of the narrative. Anyone seeking a brisk, startlingly original piece of speculative fiction that refuses conventional narrative boundaries will find this minor masterpiece well worth the journey.

What aspects of R. A. Lafferty's unique blend of folklore and science fiction appeal to you most?