Атлант расправил плечи
The Theme
Whentheoldonesgo,thatwillbetheendoftype-writing. Therewasanaccidentinthesubwaythismorning,theirbrakeswouldn’twork. Yououghttogohome,Eddie,turnontheradioandlistentoagooddanceband. Forgetit,boy. Troublewithyouisyouneverhadahobby.Somebodystoletheelectriclightbulbsagain,fromoffthestaircase,downwhereIlive. I’vegotapaininmychest. Couldn’tgetanycoughdropsthismorning,thedrugstoreonourcornerwentbankruptlastweek. TheTexas-WesternRailroadwentbankruptlastmonth.TheyclosedtheQueensboroughBridgeyesterdayfortemporaryrepairs. Ohwell,what’stheuse?WhoisJohnGalt?"
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Shesatatthewindowofthetrain,herheadthrownback,onelegstretchedacrosstotheemptyseatbeforeher. Thewindowframetrembledwiththespeedofthemotion,thepanehungoveremptydarkness,anddotsoflightslashedacrosstheglassasluminousstreaks,onceinawhile.
Herleg,sculpturedbythetightsheenofthestocking,itslonglinerunningstraight,overanarchedinstep,tothetipofafootinahigh-heeledpump,hadafeminineelegancethatseemedoutofplaceinthedustytraincarandoddlyincongruouswiththerestofher. Sheworeabatteredcamel’shaircoatthathadbeenexpensive,wrappedshapelesslyaboutherslender,nervousbody. Thecoatcollarwasraisedtotheslantingbrimofherhat. Asweepofbrownhairfellback,almosttouchingthelineofhershoulders.
