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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 387/1581
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Things
streaked
past
—
a
water
tank
,
a
tree
,
a
shanty
,
a
grain
silo
.
They
had
a
windshield
-
wiper
motion
:
they
were
rising
,
describing
a
curve
and
dropping
back
.
The
telegraph
wires
ran
a
race
with
the
train
,
rising
and
falling
from
pole
to
pole
,
in
an
even
rhythm
,
like
the
cardiograph
record
of
a
steady
heartbeat
written
across
the
sky
.
She
looked
ahead
,
at
the
haze
that
melted
rail
and
distance
,
a
haze
that
could
rip
apart
at
any
moment
to
some
shape
of
disaster
.
She
wondered
why
she
felt
safer
than
she
had
ever
felt
in
a
car
behind
the
engine
,
safer
here
,
where
it
seemed
as
if
,
should
an
obstacle
rise
,
her
breast
and
the
glass
shield
would
be
first
to
smash
against
it
.
She
smiled
,
grasping
the
answer
:
it
was
the
security
of
being
first
,
with
full
sight
and
full
knowledge
of
one
’
s
course
—
not
the
blind
sense
of
being
pulled
into
the
unknown
by
some
unknown
power
ahead
.
It
was
the
greatest
sensation
of
existence
:
not
to
trust
,
but
to
know
.
The
glass
sheets
of
the
cab
’
s
windows
made
the
spread
of
the
fields
seem
vaster
:
the
earth
looked
as
open
to
movement
as
it
was
to
sight
.
Yet
nothing
was
distant
and
nothing
was
out
of
reach
.
She
had
barely
grasped
the
sparkle
of
a
lake
ahead
—
and
in
the
next
instant
she
was
beside
it
,
then
past
.
It
was
a
strange
foreshortening
between
sight
and
touch
,
she
thought
,
between
wish
and
fulfillment
,
between
—
the
words
clicked
sharply
in
her
mind
after
a
startled
stop
—
between
spirit
and
body
.
First
,
the
vision
—
then
the
physical
shape
to
express
it
.
First
,
the
thought
—
then
the
purposeful
motion
down
the
straight
line
of
a
single
track
to
a
chosen
goal
.
Could
one
have
any
meaning
without
the
other
?
Wasn
’
t
it
evil
to
wish
without
moving
—
or
to
move
without
aim
?
Whose
malevolence
was
it
that
crept
through
the
world
,
struggling
to
break
the
two
apart
and
set
them
against
each
other
?
She
shook
her
head
.
She
did
not
want
to
think
or
to
wonder
why
the
world
behind
her
was
as
it
was
.
She
did
not
care
.
She
was
flying
away
from
it
,
at
the
rate
of
a
hundred
miles
an
hour
.
She
leaned
to
the
open
window
by
her
side
,
and
felt
the
wind
of
the
speed
blowing
her
hair
off
her
forehead
.
She
lay
back
,
conscious
of
nothing
but
the
pleasure
it
gave
her
.
Yet
her
mind
kept
racing
.
Broken
bits
of
thought
flew
past
her
attention
,
like
the
telegraph
poles
by
the
track
.
Physical
pleasure
?
—
she
thought
.
This
is
a
train
made
of
steel
.
.
.
running
on
rails
of
Rearden
Metal
.
.
.
moved
by
the
energy
of
burning
oil
and
electric
generators
.
.
.
it
’
s
a
physical
sensation
of
physical
movement
through
space
.
.
.
but
is
that
the
cause
and
the
meaning
of
what
I
now
feel
?
.
.
.
Do
they
call
it
a
low
,
animal
joy
—
this
feeling
that
I
would
not
care
if
the
rail
did
break
to
bits
under
us
now
—
it
won
’
t
—
but
I
wouldn
’
t
care
,
because
I
have
experienced
this
?
A
low
,
physical
,
material
,
degrading
pleasure
of
the
body
?
