Атлант расправил плечи
The Sign of the Dollar
Theearthwasnowacrumpledsculpturethatswayedfromsidetoside,theshapeofanexplosionstillshootingsuddenspurtstoreachtheplane.Shesawthemasdentedblackcutsrippingthroughthemilkyspreadofstars,straightinherpathandtearingwider.Hermindonewithherbodyandherbodyonewiththeplane,shefoughttheinvisiblesuctiondrawingherdownward,shefoughtthesuddenguststhattippedtheearthasifshewereabouttorolloffintothesky,withhalfofthemountainsrollingafter.Itwaslikefightingafrozenoceanwherethetouchofasinglespraywouldbefatal.
Therewerestretchesofrestwhenthemountainsshrankdown,overvalleysfilledwithfog.Thenthefogrosehighertoswallowtheearthandshewasleftsuspendedinspace,leftmotionlessbutforthesoundoftheengine.
Butshedidnotneedtoseetheearth.Theinstrumentpanelwasnowherpowerofsight’—itwasthecondensedsightofthebestmindsabletoguideheronherway.Theircondensedsight,shethought,offeredtohersandrequiringonlythatshebeabletoreadit.Howhadtheybeenpaidforit,they,thesight-givers?Fromcondensedmilktocondensedmusictothecondensedsightofprecisioninstruments—whatwealthhadtheynotgiventotheworldandwhathadtheyreceivedinreturn?
Whereweretheynow?WherewasDwightSanders?Wherewastheinventorofhermotor?
Thefogwaslifting—andinasuddenclearing,shesawadropoffireonaspreadofrock.
