Атлант расправил плечи
By our love
Itwouldbesimpletobypassthosehills,shethought,tobuildaroadontheothersideoftheriver—thepeopleofWoodstockhadnothingtodo,shecouldteachthem—cutaroadstraighttothesouthwest,savemiles,connectwiththestatehighwayatthefreightdepotof—oh,stopit!
Sheputherkerosenelampasideandsatinhercabinafterdarkbythelightofacandle,listeningtothemusicofasmallportableradio.
Shehuntedforsymphonyconcertsandtwistedthedialrapidlypastwhenevershecaughttheraucoussyllablesofanewsbroadcast;shedidnotwantanynewsfromthecity.
Don’tthinkofTaggartTranscontinental—shehadtoldherselfonherfirstnightinthecabin—don’tthinkofituntilyou’reabletohearthewordsasiftheywere"AtlanticSouthern"or"AssociatedSteel,"Buttheweekspassedandnoscarwouldgrowoverthewound.
Itseemedtoherasifshewerefightingtheunpredictablecrueltyofherownmind.Shewouldlieinbed,driftingofftosleep—thenfindherselfsuddenlythinkingthattheconveyorbeltwaswornatthecoalingstationatWillowBend,Indiana,shehadseenitfromthewindowofhercaronherlasttrip,shemusttellthemtoreplaceitorthey—andthenshewouldbesittingupinbed,crying,Stopit!—andstoppingit,butremainingawakefortherestofthatnight.
