Атлант расправил плечи
The Man who belonged on Earth
Itwasthemomentwhen—aloneinhisoffice,onawinterevening,heldparalyzedbyanewspaperspreadonhisdeskwithalongcolumnofdirectivesonthefrontpage—hehadheardontheradiothenewsofEllisWyatt’sflamingoilfields.Then,hisfirstreaction—beforeanythoughtofthefuture,anysenseofdisaster,anyshock,terrororprotest—hadbeentoburstoutlaughing.Hehadlaughedintriumph,indeliverance,inaspurting,livingexultation—andthewordswhichhehadnotpronounced,butfelt,were:Godblessyou,Ellis,whateveryou’redoing!
Whenhehadgraspedtheimplicationsofhislaughter,hehadknownthathewasnowcondemnedtoconstantvigilanceagainsthimself.Likethesurvivorofaheartattack,heknewthathehadhadawarningandthathecarriedwithinhimadangerthatcouldstrikehimatanymoment.
Hehadhelditoff,sincethen.Hehadkeptaneven,cautious,severelycontrolledpaceinhisinnersteps.Butithadcomeclosetohimforamoment,onceagain.WhenhehadlookedattheorderoftheStateScienceInstituteonhisdesk,ithadseemedtohimthattheglowmovingoverthepaperdidnotcomefromthefurnacesoutside,butfromtheflamesofaburningoilfield.
"Mr.Rearden,"saidtheWetNurse,whenheheardabouttherejectedorder,"youshouldn’thavedonethat."
"Whynot?"
"There’sgoingtobetrouble.
