Атлант расправил плечи
Their Brothers’ Keepers
Someshabbyfiguresshuffledacrossit,asiflostinitsshiningexpanse.Onthestepsofthepedestal,underthestatueoftheaustere,exultantfigure,araggedbumsatslumpedinpassiveresignation,likeawing-pluckedbirdwithnoplacetogo,restingonanychancecornice.
Shefelldownonthestepsofthepedestal,likeanotherderelict,herdust-smearedcapewrappedtightlyabouther,shesatstill,herheadonherarm,pastcryingorreelingormoving.
Itseemedtoheronlythatshekeptseeingafigurewitharaisedarmholdingalight,anditlookedattimesliketheStatueofLibertyandthenitlookedlikeamanwithsun-streakedhair,holdingalanternagainstamidnightsky,aredlanternthatstoppedthemovementoftheworld.
"Don’ttakeittoheart,lady,whateveritis,"saidthebum,inatoneofexhaustedcompassion."Nothing’stobedoneaboutit,anyway...
What’stheuse,lady?WhoisJohnGalt?"
