Атлант расправил плечи
Account Overdrawn
Fromtheheightoftheroom,thecitylookedlikeaflattenedremnant,withbutafewrare,lonelystreaksoflightedglassstillrisingthroughthedarknesstothesky.
Shedidnotlistentothevoicesofthemenbehindher.Shedidnotknowforhowlongthebrokensnatchesoftheirstrugglekeptrollingpasther—thesoundsthatnudgedandproddedoneanother,tryingtoedgebackandleavesomeonepushedforward—astruggle,nottoassertone’sownwill,buttosqueezeanassertionfromsomeunwillingvictim—abattleinwhichthedecisionwastobepronounced,notbythewinner,butbytheloser:"Itseemstome...Itis,Ithink...Itmust,inmyopinion...
Ifweweretosuppose...Iammerelysuggesting...Iamnotimplying,but...Ifweconsiderbothsides...Itis,inmyopinion,indubitable...Itseemstometobeanunmistakablefact..."
Shedidnotknowwhosevoiceitwas,butshehearditwhenthevoicepronounced:"...and,therefore,ImovethattheJohnGaltLinebeclosed."
Something,shethought,hadmadehimcalltheLinebyitsrightname.
