Атлант расправил плечи
The Egoist
Andwhatdoyouproposetodoaboutthat?"
Itwasasifhehadpronouncedthequestionwhichalloftheprecedingutteranceshadbeenintendedtostaveoff.Nooneansweredhim,butheadsdrewfaintlydeeperintoshoulders,andfiguresdrewfaintlyclosertooneanother,likeasmallclusterundertheweightofthestudio’semptyspace.Themilitarymarchboomedthroughthesilencewiththeinflexiblegaietyofagrinningskull.
"Turnitoff!"yelledMr.Thompson,wavingattheradio."Turnthatdamnthingoff!"
Someoneobeyedhim.Butthesuddensilencewasworse.
"Well?"saidMr.Thompsonatlast,raisinghiseyesreluctantlytoFredKinnan."Whatdoyouthinkweoughttodo?"
"Who,me?"chuckledKinnan."Idon’trunthisshow."
Mr.Thompsonslammedhisfistdownonhisknee."Saysomething—"heordered,butseeingKinnanturnaway,added,"somebody!"
Therewerenovolunteers."Whatarewetodo?"heyelled,knowingthatthemanwhoansweredwould,thereafter,bethemaninpower.
"Whatarewetodo?Can’tsomebodytelluswhattodo?"
"Ican!"Itwasawoman’svoice,butithadthequalityofthevoicetheyhadheardontheradio.TheywhirledtoDagnybeforeshehadtimetostepforwardfromthedarknessbeyondthegroup.Asshesteppedforward,herfacefrightenedthem—becauseitwasdevoidoffear.
