Атлант расправил плечи
The Sign of the Dollar
Shethoughtofwhatanenormousdistancefivemileshadsuddenlybecome,andthatadivisionpointthirtymilesawaywasnowunattainable—afteraneraofrailroadsbuiltbymenwhothoughtinthousandsoftranscontinentalmiles.Thatnetofrailsandlights,spreadingfromoceantoocean,hungonthesnapofawire,onabrokenconnectioninsidearustyphone—no,shethought,onsomethingmuchmorepowerfulandmuchmoredelicate.Ithungontheconnectionsinthemindsofthemenwhoknewthattheexistenceofawire,ofatrain,ofajob,ofthemselvesandtheiractionswasanabsolutenottobeescaped.Whensuchmindsweregone,atwothousand-tontrainwasleftatthemercyofthemusclesofherlegs.
Tired?—shethought;eventhestrainofwalkingwasavalue,asmallpieceofrealityinthestillnessaroundthem.Thesensationofeffortwasaspecificexperience,itwaspainandcouldbenothingelse—inthemidstofaspacewhichwasneitherlightnordark,asoilwhichneithergavenorresisted,afogwhichneithermovednorhungstill.Theirstrainwastheonlyevidenceoftheirmotion:nothingchangedintheemptinessaroundthem,nothingtookformtomarktheirprogress.Shehadalwayswondered,inincredulouscontempt,aboutthesectsthatpreachedtheannihilationoftheuniverseastheidealtobeattained.There,shethought,wastheirworldandthecontentoftheirmindsmadereal.
