Атлант расправил плечи
The John Galt line
Shefeltherpowerofvolitionknockedoutbysomesingle,dullblowthatmadeherunabletomove.Sheheldhiseyes,lyingbackinherchair,thewindpressingthethinclothofhershirttoherbody.
Helookedaway,andsheturnedagaintothesightoftheearthtearingopenbeforethem.
Shedidnotwanttothink,butthesoundofthoughtwenton,likethedroneofthemotorsunderthesoundsoftheengine.Shelookedatthecabaroundher.Thefinesteelmeshoftheceiling,shethought,andtherowofrivetsinthecorner,holdingsheetsofsteelsealedtogether—whomadethem?Thebruteforceofmen’smuscles?WhomadeitpossibleforfourdialsandthreeleversinfrontofPatLogantoholdtheincrediblepowerofthesixteenmotorsbehindthemanddeliverittotheeffortlesscontrolofoneman’shand?
Thesethingsandthecapacityfromwhichtheycame—wasthisthepursuitmenregardedasevil?Wasthiswhattheycalledanignobleconcernwiththephysicalworld?Wasthisthestateofbeingenslavedbymatter?Wasthisthesurrenderofman’sspirittohisbody?
Sheshookherhead,asifshewishedshecouldtossthesubjectoutofthewindowandletitgetshatteredsomewherealongthetrack.Shelookedatthesunonthesummerfields.Shedidnothavetothink,becausethesequestionswereonlydetailsofatruthsheknewandhadalwaysknown.Letthemgopastlikethetelegraphpoles.Thethingsheknewwaslikethewiresflyingaboveinanunbrokenline.
