Атлант расправил плечи
The Non-commercial
Itroseintorturedtriumph,speakingitsdenialofpain,itshymntoadistantvision.Thenthenotesbroke.Itwasasifahandfulofmudandpebbleshadbeenflungatthemusic,andwhatfollowedwasthesoundoftherollingandthedripping.ItwasHalley’sConcertoswungintoapopulartune.ItwasHalley’smelodytornapart,itsholesstuffedwithhiccoughs.Thegreatstatementofjoyhadbecomethegigglingofabarroom.YetitwasstilltheremnantofHalley’smelodythatgaveitform;itwasthemelodythatsupporteditlikeaspinalcord.
"Prettygood?"MortLiddywassmilingathisfriends,boastfullyandnervously."Prettygood,eh?Bestmoviescoreoftheyear.Gotmeaprize.Gotmealong-termcontract.Yeah,thiswasmyscorefor
Heaven’sinYourBackyard."
Dagnystood,staringattheroom,asifonesensecouldreplaceanother,asifsightcouldwipeoutsound.Shemovedherheadinaslowcircle,tryingtofindananchorsomewhere.ShesawFranciscoleaningagainstacolumn,hisarmscrossed;hewaslookingstraightather;hewaslaughing.
Don’tshakelikethis,shethought.Getoutofhere.Thiswastheapproachofanangershecouldnotcontrol.Shethought:Saynothing.Walksteadily.Getout.
Shehadstartedwalking,cautiously,veryslowly.SheheardLillian’swordsandstopped.Lillianhadsaiditmanytimesthisevening,inanswertothesamequestion,butitwasthefirsttimethatDagnyheardit.
"This?"Lillianwassaying,extendingherarmwiththemetalbraceletfortheinspectionoftwosmartlygroomedwomen.
