Атлант расправил плечи
The Sign of the Dollar
Nolandingwaspossiblewithinaradiusofahundredmiles;sheglancedatherfuelgauge:shehadonehalf-hourleft.Thestrangerwasheadingstraighttowardanother,higherrange.Shewonderedwhyhechoseacoursenoairroutedidoreverwouldtravel.Shewishedthisrangewerebehindher;itwasthelasteffortshecouldhopetomake.
Thestranger’splanewassuddenlyslackingitsspeed.Hewaslosingaltitudejustwhenshehadexpectedhimtoclimb.Thegranitebarrierwasrisinginhispath,movingtomeethim,reachingforhiswings—butthelong,smoothlineofhismotionwasslidingdown.Shecoulddetectnobreak,nojolt,nosignofmechanicalfailure;itlookedliketheevenmovementofacontrolledintention.Withasuddenflashofsunlightonitswings,theplanebankedintoalongcurve,raysdrippinglikewaterfromitsbody—thenwentintothebroad,smoothcirclesofaspiral,asifcirclingforalandingwherenolandingwasconceivable.
Shewatched,nottryingtoexplainit,notbelievingwhatshesaw,waitingfortheupwardthrustthatwouldthrowhimbackonhiscourse.Buttheeasy,glidingcircleswentondropping,towardagroundshecouldnotseeanddarednotthinkof...Likeremnantsofbrokenjaws,stringsofgranitedenturesstoodbetweenhershipandhis;shecouldnottellwhatlayatthebottomofhisspiralmotion.
Sheknewonlythatitdidnotlooklike,butwascertaintobe,themotionofasuicide.
Shesawthesunlightglitteronhiswingsforaninstant.
