Атлант расправил плечи
The Chain
Itflowedobedientlythroughaspoutofclay,withtwobrittleborderstorestrainit,itfellthroughtwentyfeetofspace,downintoaladlethatheldtwohundredtons.Aflowofstarshungabovethestream,leapingoutofitsplacidsmoothness,lookingdelicateaslaceandinnocentaschildren’ssparklers.Onlyatacloserglancecouldonenoticethatthewhitesatinwasboiling.Splashesflewoutattimesandfelltothegroundbelow:theyweremetaland,coolingwhilehittingthesoil,theyburstintoflame.
Twohundredtonsofametalwhichwastobeharderthansteel,runningliquidatatemperatureoffourthousanddegrees,hadthepowertoannihilateeverywallofthestructureandeveryoneofthemenwhoworkedbythestream.Buteveryinchofitscourse,everypoundofitspressureandthecontentofeverymoleculewithinit,werecontrolledandmadebyaconsciousintentionthathadworkeduponitfortenyears.
Swingingthroughthedarknessoftheshed,theredglarekeptslashingthefaceofamanwhostoodinadistantcorner;hestoodleaningagainstacolumn,watching.Theglarecutamoment’swedgeacrosshiseyes,whichhadthecolorandqualityofpaleblueice—thenacrosstheblackwebofthemetalcolumnandtheash-blondstrandsofhishair—thenacrossthebeltofhistrenchcoatandthepocketswhereheheldhishands.Hisbodywastallandgaunt;hehadalwaysbeentootallforthosearoundhim.
