Атлант расправил плечи
The Chain
Aninexplicablekindofdistaste,partfastidiousness,partboredom,stoppedhimwheneverhetriedtoconsiderit.
"Troubleis,Paul,"hesaid,thinkingaloud,"thatthemenonehastopickforthatjobaresuchacrummylot."
Larkinlookedaway."That’slife,"hesaid.
"DamnedifIseewhy.Canyoutellmethat?What’swrongwiththeworld?"
Larkinshruggedsadly."Whyaskuselessquestions?Howdeepistheocean?Howhighisthesky?WhoisJohnGalt?"
Reardensatupstraight."No,"hesaidsharply."No.There’snoreasontofeelthatway."
Hegotup.Hisexhaustionhadgonewhilehetalkedabouthisbusiness.Hefeltasuddenspurtofrebellion,aneedtorecaptureanddefiantlytoreasserthisownviewofexistence,thatsenseofitwhichhehadheldwhilewalkinghometonightandwhichnowseemedthreatenedinsomenamelessmanner.
Hepacedtheroom,hisenergyreturning.Helookedathisfamily.Theywerebewildered,unhappychildren—hethought—allofthem,evenhismother,andhewasfoolishtoresenttheirineptitude;itcamefromtheirhelplessness,notfrommalice.Itwashewhohadtomakehimselflearntounderstandthem,sincehehadsomuchtogive,sincetheycouldneversharehissenseofjoyous,boundlesspower.
Heglancedatthemfromacrosstheroom.HismotherandPhilipwereengagedinsomeeagerdiscussion;buthenotedthattheywerenotreallyeager,theywerenervous.
