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With
a
coldly
intentional
movement
,
he
kicked
the
telephone
instrument
and
sent
it
rolling
into
a
ditch
:
the
violence
of
the
noise
shattered
the
vacuum
.
"
God
damn
him
,
"
he
said
evenly
,
not
raising
his
voice
,
with
a
loathing
past
any
display
of
emotion
.
"
He
probably
didn
’
t
feel
like
attending
to
his
job
,
and
since
he
needed
his
pay
check
,
nobody
had
the
right
to
ask
that
he
keep
the
phones
in
order
.
"
"
Come
on
,
"
she
said
.
"
We
can
rest
,
if
you
feel
tired
,
Miss
Taggart
.
"
"
I
’
m
all
right
.
We
have
no
time
to
feel
tired
.
"
"
That
’
s
our
great
error
,
Miss
Taggart
.
We
ought
to
take
the
time
,
some
day
.
"
She
gave
a
brief
chuckle
,
she
stepped
onto
a
tie
of
the
track
,
stressing
the
step
as
her
answer
,
and
they
went
on
.
It
was
hard
,
walking
on
ties
,
but
when
they
tried
to
walk
along
the
trackside
,
they
found
that
it
was
harder
.
The
soil
,
half
-
sand
,
half
-
dust
,
sank
under
their
heels
,
like
the
soft
,
unresisting
spread
of
some
substance
that
was
neither
liquid
nor
solid
.
They
went
back
to
walking
from
tie
to
tie
;
it
was
almost
like
stepping
from
log
to
log
in
the
midst
of
a
river
.
She
thought
of
what
an
enormous
distance
five
miles
had
suddenly
become
,
and
that
a
division
point
thirty
miles
away
was
now
unattainable
—
after
an
era
of
railroads
built
by
men
who
thought
in
thousands
of
transcontinental
miles
.
That
net
of
rails
and
lights
,
spreading
from
ocean
to
ocean
,
hung
on
the
snap
of
a
wire
,
on
a
broken
connection
inside
a
rusty
phone
—
no
,
she
thought
,
on
something
much
more
powerful
and
much
more
delicate
.
It
hung
on
the
connections
in
the
minds
of
the
men
who
knew
that
the
existence
of
a
wire
,
of
a
train
,
of
a
job
,
of
themselves
and
their
actions
was
an
absolute
not
to
be
escaped
.
When
such
minds
were
gone
,
a
two
thousand
-
ton
train
was
left
at
the
mercy
of
the
muscles
of
her
legs
.
Tired
?
—
she
thought
;
even
the
strain
of
walking
was
a
value
,
a
small
piece
of
reality
in
the
stillness
around
them
.
The
sensation
of
effort
was
a
specific
experience
,
it
was
pain
and
could
be
nothing
else
—
in
the
midst
of
a
space
which
was
neither
light
nor
dark
,
a
soil
which
neither
gave
nor
resisted
,
a
fog
which
neither
moved
nor
hung
still
.
Their
strain
was
the
only
evidence
of
their
motion
:
nothing
changed
in
the
emptiness
around
them
,
nothing
took
form
to
mark
their
progress
.
She
had
always
wondered
,
in
incredulous
contempt
,
about
the
sects
that
preached
the
annihilation
of
the
universe
as
the
ideal
to
be
attained
.
There
,
she
thought
,
was
their
world
and
the
content
of
their
minds
made
real
.
