Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
Ishouldhaveknownbetter,Iknewthattheyweren’tgettingenoughsleepasitwas,butIforgotitoccasionally,Ilostmysenseoftime—yousee,whentheywerethere,Ialwaysfeltasifitwereearlymorningandalong,inexhaustibledaywerestretchingaheadbeforeus.Theyneverspokeofwhattheywishedtheymightdointhefuture,theyneverwonderedwhethersomemysteriousomnipotencehadfavoredthemwithsomeunknowabletalenttoachievethethingstheywanted—theyspokeofwhattheywoulddo.Doesaffectiontendtomakeoneacoward?IknowthattheonlytimesIfeltfearwereoccasionalmomentswhenIlistenedtothemandthoughtofwhattheworldwasbecomingandwhattheywouldhavetoencounterinthefuture.Fear?
Yes—butitwasmorethanfear.Itwasthekindofemotionthatmakesmencapableofkilling—whenIthoughtthatthepurposeoftheworld’strendwastodestroythesechildren,thatthesethreesonsofmineweremarkedforimmolation.Ohyes,Iwouldhavekilled—butwhomwastheretokill?Itwaseveryoneandnoone,therewasnosingleenemy,nocenterandnovillain,itwasnotthesimperingsocialworkerincapableofearningapennyorthethievingbureaucratscaredofhisownshadow,itwasthewholeoftheearthrollingintoanobscenityofhorror,pushedbythehandofeverywould-bedecentmanwhobelievedthatneedisholierthanability,andpityisholierthanjustice.Butthesewereonlyoccasionalmoments.Itwasnotmyconstantfeeling.
