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- Стр. 1266/1581
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There
is
no
place
to
go
,
she
thought
and
stumbled
on
—
I
can
’
t
stand
still
,
nor
move
much
longer
—
I
can
neither
work
nor
rest
—
I
can
neither
surrender
nor
fight
—
but
this
.
.
.
this
is
what
they
want
of
me
,
this
is
where
they
want
me
—
neither
living
nor
dead
,
neither
thinking
nor
insane
,
but
just
a
chunk
of
pulp
that
screams
with
fear
,
to
be
shaped
by
them
as
they
please
,
they
who
have
no
shape
of
their
own
.
She
plunged
into
the
darkness
behind
a
corner
,
shrinking
in
dread
from
any
human
figure
.
No
,
she
thought
,
they
’
re
not
evil
,
not
all
people
.
.
.
they
’
re
only
their
own
first
victims
,
but
they
all
believe
in
Jim
’
s
creed
,
and
I
can
’
t
deal
with
them
,
once
I
know
it
.
.
.
and
if
I
spoke
to
them
,
they
would
try
to
grant
me
their
good
will
,
but
I
’
d
know
what
it
is
that
they
hold
as
the
good
and
I
would
see
death
staring
out
of
their
eyes
.
The
sidewalk
had
shrunk
to
a
broken
strip
,
and
splashes
of
garbage
ran
over
from
the
cans
at
the
stoops
of
crumbling
houses
.
Beyond
the
dusty
glow
of
a
saloon
,
she
saw
a
lighted
sign
"
Young
Women
’
s
Rest
Club
"
above
a
locked
door
.
She
knew
the
institutions
of
that
kind
and
the
women
who
ran
them
,
the
women
who
said
that
theirs
was
the
job
of
helping
sufferers
.
If
she
went
in
—
she
thought
,
stumbling
past
—
if
she
faced
them
and
begged
them
for
help
,
"
What
is
your
guilt
?
"
they
would
ask
her
.
"
Drink
?
Dope
?
Pregnancy
?
Shoplifting
?
"
She
would
answer
,
"
I
have
no
guilt
,
I
am
innocent
,
but
I
’
m
—
"
"
Sorry
.
We
have
no
concern
for
the
pain
of
the
innocent
.
"
She
ran
.
She
stopped
,
regaining
her
eyesight
,
on
the
corner
of
a
long
,
wide
street
.
The
buildings
and
pavements
merged
with
the
sky
—
and
two
lines
of
green
lights
hung
in
open
space
,
going
off
into
an
endless
distance
,
as
if
stretching
into
other
towns
and
oceans
and
foreign
lands
,
to
encircle
the
earth
.
The
green
glow
had
a
look
of
serenity
,
like
an
inviting
,
unlimited
path
open
to
confident
travel
.
Then
the
lights
switched
to
red
,
dropping
heavily
lower
,
turning
from
sharp
circles
into
foggy
smears
,
into
a
warning
of
unlimited
danger
.
She
stood
and
watched
a
giant
truck
go
by
,
its
enormous
wheels
crushing
one
more
layer
of
shiny
polish
into
the
flattened
cobbles
of
the
street
.
The
lights
went
back
to
the
green
of
safety
—
but
she
stood
trembling
,
unable
to
move
.
That
’
s
how
it
works
for
the
travel
of
one
’
s
body
,
she
thought
,
but
what
have
they
done
to
the
traffic
of
the
soul
?
They
have
set
the
signals
in
reverse
—
and
the
road
is
safe
when
the
lights
are
the
red
of
evil
—
but
when
the
lights
are
the
green
of
virtue
,
promising
that
yours
is
the
right
-
of
-
way
,
you
venture
forth
and
are
ground
by
the
wheels
.
All
over
the
world
,
she
thought
—
those
inverted
lights
go
reaching
into
every
land
,
they
go
on
,
encircling
the
earth
.
And
the
earth
is
littered
with
mangled
cripples
,
who
don
’
t
know
what
has
hit
them
or
why
,
who
crawl
as
best
they
can
on
their
crushed
limbs
through
their
lightless
days
,
with
no
answer
save
that
pain
is
the
core
of
existence
—
and
the
traffic
cops
of
morality
chortle
and
tell
them
that
man
,
by
his
nature
,
is
unable
to
walk
.
