Атлант расправил плечи
The Sign of the Dollar
Thelightwasflowingintothesky,asifdrawnfromtheearthbythestranger’splane.Theplanewasheadedsoutheast,andshewasfollowingitintothecomingsunrise.
Fromthetransparentgreenofice,theskymeltedintopalegold,andthegoldspreadintoalakeunderafragilefilmofpinkglass,thecolorofthatforgottenmorningwhichwasthefirstshehadseenonearth.Thecloudsweredroppingawayinlongshredsofsmokyblue.Shekepthereyesonthestranger’splane,asifherglancewereatowlinepullinghership.Thestranger’splanewasnowasmallblackcross,likeashrinkingcheckmarkontheglowingsky.
Thenshenoticedthatthecloudswerenotdropping,thattheystoodcongealedontheedgeoftheearth—andsherealizedthattheplanewasheadedtowardthemountainsofColorado,thatthestruggleagainsttheinvisiblestormlayaheadforheroncemore.Shenoteditwithoutemotion;shedidnotwonderwhetherhershiporherbodyhadthepowertoattemptitagain.Solongasshewasabletomove,shewouldmovetofollowthespeckthatwasfleeingawaywiththelastofherworld.Shefeltnothingbuttheemptinessleftbyafirethathadbeenhatredandangerandthedesperateimpulseofafighttothekill;thesehadfusedintoasingleicystreak,thesingleresolvetofollowthestranger,whoeverhewas,whereverhetookher,tofollowand...sheaddednothinginhermind,but,unstated,whatlayatthebottomoftheemptinesswas:andgiveherlife,ifshecouldtakehisfirst.
