Атлант расправил плечи
The Sign of the Dollar
Thensheclimbedaboard—andthenextspanofherconsciousnesswasnotseparatemomentsandmovements,butthesweepofasinglemotionandasingleunitoftime,aprogressionformingoneentity,likethenotesofapieceofmusic:fromthetouchofherhandonthestarter—totheblastofthemotor’ssoundthatbrokeoff,likeamountainrockslide,allcontactwiththetimebehindher—tothecirclingfallofabladethatvanishedinafragilesparkleofwhirlingairthatcutthespaceahead—tothestartfortherunway—tothebriefpause—thentotheforwardthrust—tothelong,perilousrun,therunnottobeobstructed,thestraightlineranthatgatherspowerbyspendingitonaharderandharderandever-acceleratingeffort,thestraightlinetoapurpose—tothemoment,unnoticed,whentheearthdropsoffandtheline,unbroken,goesonintospaceinthesimple,naturalactofrising.
Shesawthetelegraphwiresofthetracksideslippingpastatthetipofhertoes.Theearthwasfallingdownward,andshefeltasifitsweightweredroppingoffherankles,asiftheglobewouldgoshrinkingtothesizeofaball,aconvict’sballshehaddraggedandlost.
Herbodyswayed,drunkwiththeshockofadiscovery,andhercraftrockedwithherbody,anditwastheearthbelowthatreeledwiththerockingofhercraft—thediscoverythatherlifewasnowinherownhands,thattherewasnonecessitytoargue,toexplain,toteach,toplead,tofight—nothingbuttoseeandthinkandact.
