Атлант расправил плечи
“This is John Galt speaking”
HadGaltabandonedher?Hadhegonetothevalleytomeethisgreatestconquest?Wouldhecomeback?Hadhegivenherup?Theunendurablewasnotthatthesequestionshadnoanswer,butthattheanswerwassosimply,soeasilywithinherreachandthatshehadnorighttotakeasteptoreachit.
Shehadmadenoattempttoseehim.Everymorning,foramonth,onenteringheroffice,shehadbeenconscious,notoftheroomaroundher,butofthetunnelsbelow,underthefloorsofthebuilding—andshehadworked,feelingasifsomemarginalpartofherbrainwascomputingfigures,readingreports,makingdecisionsinarushoflifelessactivity,whileherlivingmindwasinactiveandstill,frozenincontemplation,forbiddentomovebeyondthesentence:He’sdownthere.TheonlyinquiryshehadpermittedherselfhadbeenaglanceatthepayrolllistoftheTerminalworkers.Shehadseenthename:Galt,John.Thelisthadcarriedit,openly,forovertwelveyears.Shehadseenanaddressnexttothename—and,foramonth,hadstruggledtoforgetit.
Ithadseemedhardtolivethroughthatmonth—yetnow,asshelookedattheletter,thethoughtthatGalthadgonewasstillhardertobear.Eventhestruggleofresistinghisproximityhadbeenalinktohim,apricetopay,avictoryachievedinhisname.Nowtherewasnothing,exceptaquestionthatwasnottobeasked.
