Santaroga seemed to be nothing more than a prosperous farm community. But there was something ... different ... about Santaroga.

Santaroga had no juvenile delinquency, or any crime at all. Outsiders found no house for sale or rent in this valley, and no one ever moved out. No one bought cigarettes in Santaroga. No cheese, wine, beer or produce from outside the valley could be sold there. The list went on and on and grew stranger and stranger.

Maybe Santaroga was the last outpost of American individualism. Maybe they were just a bunch of religious kooks...

Or maybe there was something extraordinary at work in Santaroga. Something far more disturbing than anyone could imagine.


A psychologist, Gilbert Dasein, is hired by corporate interests to investigate Santaroga, a southern California town in a valley where marketing seems totally ineffective: outside businesses are allowed in, but wither quickly for lack of business. 
Santarogans aren't hostile toward the enterprises, they just won't shop there. 
Nor are they xenophobic; they instead appear maddeningly self-satisfied with their quaint, local lifestyle. 
Adding an element of danger, the last few psychologists sent in have all died in accidents that are (seemingly) perfectly plausible. Complicating matters further still, the psychologist's college girlfriend, Jenny, has returned to Santaroga, her hometown.