Атлант расправил плечи
Anti-Life
ThenIwon’t!—shescreamedandwhirledaroundandwentrunningbackalongthestreet—butitseemedtoherthatintheblacksky,grinningatherfromthesteamofthelaundry,thereweavedanenormousfigurethatwouldholdnoshape,butitsgrinremainedthesameonitschangingfaces,anditsfacewasJim’sandherchildhoodpreacher’sandthewomansocialworker’sfromthepersonneldepartmentofthefive-and-ten—andthegrinseemedtosaytoher:Peoplelikeyouwillalwaysstayhonest,peoplelikeyouwillalwaysstruggletorise,peoplelikeyouwillalwayswork,sowe’resafeandyouhavenochoice.
Sheran.Whenshelookedaroundheroncemore,shewaswalkingdownaquietstreet,pasttheglassdoorwayswherelightswereburninginthecarpetedlobbiesofluxuriousbuildings.Shenoticedthatshewaslimping,andsawthattheheelofherpumpwasloose;shehadbrokenitsomewhereinherblankspanofrunning.
Fromthesuddenspaceofabroadintersection,shelookedatthegreatskyscrapersinthedistance.Theywerevanishingquietlyintoaveiloffog,withthefaintbreathofaglowbehindthem,withafewlightslikeasmileoffarewell.Once,theyhadbeenapromise,andfromthemidstofthestagnantslotharoundhershehadlookedtothemforproofthatanotherkindofmenexisted.
