Атлант расправил плечи
Their Brothers’ Keepers
Itwasnotasentence,butthesilentemotionofaprayerinhermind,addressedtothelaughingfaceofaboyshehadknownatsixteen.
Thenshenoticedthatshewasclingingtotheradio,asifthefaintelectricbeatwithinitstillheldatietotheonlylivingforceonearth,whichithadtransmittedforafewbriefmomentsandwhichnowfilledtheroomwhereallelsewasdead.
Asdistantremnantsoftheexplosion’swreckage,shenoticedasoundthatcamefromJim,part-moan,part-scream,part-growl—thenthesightofJim’sshouldersshakingoveratelephoneandhisdistortedvoicescreaming,"But,Rodrigo,yousaiditwassafe!Rodrigo—ohGod!—doyouknowhowmuchI’dsunkintoit?"—thentheshriekofanotherphoneonhisdesk,andhisvoicesnarlingintoanotherreceiver,hishandstillclutchingthefirst,"Shutyourtrap,Orren!Whatareyoutodo?WhatdoIcare,Goddamnyou!"
Therewerepeoplerushingintotheoffice,thetelephoneswerescreamingand,alternatingbetweenpleasandcurses,Jimkeptyellingintoonereceiver,"GetmeSantiago!...GetWashingtontogetmeSantiago!"
Distantly,asonthemarginofhermind,shecouldseewhatsortofgamethemenbehindtheshriekingphoneshadplayedandlost.Theyseemedfaraway,liketinycommassquirmingonthewhitefieldunderthelensofamicroscope.ShewonderedhowtheycouldeverexpecttobetakenseriouslywhenaFranciscod’Anconiawaspossibleonearth.
