Атлант расправил плечи
The Concerto of Deliverance
Hehadneverlovedhismillsashedidinthatmoment,for—seeingthembyanactofhisownvision,clearedofallbuthisowncodeofvalues,inaluminousrealitythatheldnocontradictions—hewasseeingthereasonofhislove:themillswereanachievementofhismind,devotedtohisenjoymentofexistence,erectedinarationalworldtodealwithrationalmen.Ifthosemenhadvanished,ifthatworldwasgone,ifhismillshadceasedtoservehisvalues—thenthemillswereonlyapileofdeadscrap,tobelefttocrumble,thesoonerthebetter—tobeleft,notasanactoftreason,butasanactofloyaltytotheiractualmeaning.
Themillswerestillamileaheadwhenasmallspurtofflamecaughthissuddenattention.Amongalltheshadesoffireinthevastspreadofstructures,hecouldtelltheabnormalandtheout-of-place:thisonewastoorawashadeofyellowanditwasdartingfromaspotwherenofirehadreasontobe,fromastructurebythegateofthemainentrance.
Inthenextinstant,heheardthedrycrackofagunshot,thenthreeansweringcracksinswiftsuccession,likeanangryhandslappingasuddenassailant.
Thentheblackmassbarringtheroadinthedistancetookshape,itwasnotmeredarknessanditdidnotrecedeashecamecloser—itwasamobsquirmingatthemaingate,tryingtostormthemills.
