-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 1170/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
line
of
her
course
went
northwest
,
to
cut
a
diagonal
across
the
state
of
Colorado
.
She
knew
she
had
chosen
the
most
dangerous
route
,
over
too
long
a
stretch
of
the
worst
mountain
barrier
—
but
it
was
the
shortest
line
,
and
safety
lay
in
altitude
,
and
no
mountains
seemed
dangerous
compared
to
the
dispatcher
of
Bradshaw
.
The
stars
were
like
foam
and
the
sky
seemed
full
of
flowing
motion
,
the
motion
of
bubbles
settling
and
forming
,
the
floating
of
circular
waves
without
progression
.
A
spark
of
light
flared
up
on
earth
once
in
a
while
,
and
it
seemed
brighter
than
all
the
static
blue
above
.
But
it
hung
alone
,
between
the
black
of
ashes
and
the
blue
of
a
crypt
,
it
seemed
to
fight
for
its
fragile
foothold
,
it
greeted
her
and
went
.
The
pale
streak
of
a
river
came
rising
slowly
from
the
void
,
and
for
a
long
stretch
of
time
it
remained
in
sight
,
gliding
imperceptibly
to
meet
her
.
It
looked
like
a
phosphorescent
vein
showing
through
the
skin
of
the
earth
,
a
delicate
vein
without
blood
.
When
she
saw
the
lights
of
a
town
,
like
a
handful
of
gold
coins
flung
upon
the
prairie
,
the
brightly
violent
lights
fed
by
an
electric
current
,
they
seemed
as
distant
as
the
stars
and
now
as
unattainable
.
The
energy
that
had
lighted
them
was
gone
,
the
power
that
created
power
stations
in
empty
prairies
had
vanished
,
and
she
knew
of
no
journey
to
recapture
it
.
Yet
these
had
been
her
stars
—
she
thought
,
looking
down
—
these
had
been
her
goal
,
her
beacon
,
the
aspiration
drawing
her
upon
her
upward
course
.
That
which
others
claimed
to
feel
at
the
sight
of
the
stars
—
stars
safely
distant
by
millions
of
years
and
thus
imposing
no
obligation
to
act
,
but
serving
as
the
tinsel
of
futility
—
she
had
felt
at
the
sight
of
electric
bulbs
lighting
the
streets
of
a
town
.
It
was
this
earth
below
that
had
been
the
height
she
had
wanted
to
reach
,
and
she
wondered
how
she
had
come
to
lose
it
,
who
had
made
of
it
a
convict
’
s
ball
to
drag
through
muck
,
who
had
turned
its
promise
of
greatness
into
a
vision
never
to
be
reached
.
But
the
town
was
past
,
and
she
had
to
look
ahead
,
to
the
mountains
of
Colorado
rising
in
her
way
.
The
small
glass
dial
on
her
panel
showed
that
she
was
now
climbing
.
The
sound
of
the
engine
,
beating
through
the
metal
shell
around
her
,
trembling
in
the
wheel
against
her
palms
,
like
the
pounding
of
a
heart
strained
to
a
solemn
effort
,
told
her
of
the
power
carrying
her
above
the
peaks
.
The
earth
was
now
a
crumpled
sculpture
that
swayed
from
side
to
side
,
the
shape
of
an
explosion
still
shooting
sudden
spurts
to
reach
the
plane
.
She
saw
them
as
dented
black
cuts
ripping
through
the
milky
spread
of
stars
,
straight
in
her
path
and
tearing
wider
.
Her
mind
one
with
her
body
and
her
body
one
with
the
plane
,
she
fought
the
invisible
suction
drawing
her
downward
,
she
fought
the
sudden
gusts
that
tipped
the
earth
as
if
she
were
about
to
roll
off
into
the
sky
,
with
half
of
the
mountains
rolling
after
.
It
was
like
fighting
a
frozen
ocean
where
the
touch
of
a
single
spray
would
be
fatal
.
There
were
stretches
of
rest
when
the
mountains
shrank
down
,
over
valleys
filled
with
fog
.
Then
the
fog
rose
higher
to
swallow
the
earth
and
she
was
left
suspended
in
space
,
left
motionless
but
for
the
sound
of
the
engine
.
But
she
did
not
need
to
see
the
earth
.
The
instrument
panel
was
now
her
power
of
sight
’
—
it
was
the
condensed
sight
of
the
best
minds
able
to
guide
her
on
her
way
.
Their
condensed
sight
,
she
thought
,
offered
to
hers
and
requiring
only
that
she
be
able
to
read
it
.
How
had
they
been
paid
for
it
,
they
,
the
sight
-
givers
?
From
condensed
milk
to
condensed
music
to
the
condensed
sight
of
precision
instruments
—
what
wealth
had
they
not
given
to
the
world
and
what
had
they
received
in
return
?
