Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
Hedescendedamongagroupofmen,hesawher,hestopped,thenrantoherasifflungforwardbysomeemotionsostrongthat,whateveritsnature,itlookedliketerror.
"MissTaggart..."hewhispered—andsaidnothingelse,whileshelaughed,tryingtoexplainhowshehadcometobeathimtohisdestination.
Helistened,asifitwereirrelevant,andthenheutteredthethingfromwhichhehadtorecover,"Butwethoughtyouweredead."
"Whothoughtit?"
"Allofus...Imean,everybodyintheoutsideworld."
Thenshesuddenlystoppedsmiling,whilehisvoicebegantorecapturehisstoryandhisfirstsoundofjoy.
"MissTaggart,don’tyouremember?YoutoldmetophoneWinston,Colorado,andtotellthemthatyou’dbetherebynoonofthenextday.Thatwastobethedaybeforeyesterday,Maythirty-first.ButyoudidnotreachWinston—andbylateafternoon,thenewswasonalltheradiosthatyouwerelostinaplanecrashsomewhereintheRockyMountains."
Shenoddedslowly,graspingtheeventsshehadnotthoughtofconsidering.
"IhearditaboardtheComet,"hesaid."AtasmallstationinthemiddleofNewMexico.Theconductorheldusthereforanhour,whileIhelpedhimtocheckthestoryonlong-distancephones.HewashitbythenewsjustasIwas.Theyallwere—thetraincrew,thestationagent,theswitchmen.
