I'll grant you Randism is a study in the socio-political universe Dante, but look what she escaped from.....~S~
A PASSAGE FROM PROCRUSTES STRETCHED
by A*n R*nd
"
I wrote this passage in 1955. It was, for reasons of space, deleted
from the final draft of my novel, Procrustes Stretched. It has never
before appeared in print.
I present it as an example of Romantic writing at its best.
Romanticism, which has always been my philosophy of ar...
The reader must decide for himself whether these paragraphs better
exemplify the tenets of Romanticism, or of its opposite, Naturalism.
The context of the passage is as follows. Ellis Island has gone into
hiding, taking with him the secret of his process for getting blood from
a turnip. Canada has declared itself to be a Fool's Paradise. Dallas Stank
is heading west, searching for a scientist able to reconstruct the ultimate
mousetrap whose plans she and Nk Rrdn found in the abandoned factory."
---A*n R*nd
``Who is John Goat?''
Dallas turned from the window and looked at the man in the seat
beside her. He had got on at one of the stops outside New York City,
but she had not noticed him before now. He had a bald head that seemed
to rest, like an opaque percolator bulb, atop a pillow of fat that had
once been a neck. His eyes were pale and lifeless.
``Pardon me?''
``Who is John Goat?''
``I don't know. Besides, those words are meaningless nonsense.''
The man nodded. His nod seemed to reject the possibility of objective
knowledge.
Dallas turned back to the window and gazed out upon the vast, blank
prairies.
A lighted billboard flickered by. Her heart trembled, and she
remembered the first time she had ever heard a radio commercial.
Her brother had told her that bird songs were prettier. But Francisco
had laughed and said, ``When I grow up, I will make birds out of copper and
sell them for money.''
And, the next day, he had presented her with his first copper bird,
made from metal he had mined with his own hands.
``Does it know any songs?'' she had asked.
``Only radio commercials.''
And then they had made love . . .
``Pardon me, miss.''
It was the bald man.
``Yes?''
``My name is Waldo Mudge. What's yours?''
``Stank. Dallas Stank.''
``Stank? The Stank who runs the railroad?''
``The same.''
Dallas proudly threw back her head.
``Hmph!'' Mudge sniffed.
``What do you do for a living, Mr. Mudge?''
``I'm a humanitarian. I live for others. Why do you look at me that
way? I give all my blood to the poor. Organs, too. Right now, I'm nothing
but an empty balloon. Don't look at me like that. Do you want to know
what keeps me alive? My love for mankind---something you would never
understand!''
``You're right, I . . . What's that hissing I hear?''
``Hissing? What? Oh, no!''
Suddenly, Waldo Mudge deflated.
Dallas turned away, overcome with disgust. A voice inside her head seemed
to whisper, ``This is what altruism leads to.''
But---the whole world was deflating---being sucked down an infinite black
hole of misery and despair. Nothing worked anymore. Dallas couldn't even get
men to wash her train windows . . .
....
He was on the next car, at the end of the train. He was clad in what
Dallas recognized to be the robe of a Capuchin monk. She climbed toward him.
She reached the gap between the cars, and hesitated. She had been
good at car-jumping once. That had been years ago. Could she still do it?
She softly whispered her grandfather's motto.
``I think I can, I think I can.''
She sprang. The earth and the train screamed past her as she hurtled
through the rushing air. A fingernail snagged on the aluminum of the next
car, and she pulled herself to safety. In minutes she was at the side of
the window washer.
``I want to give you a raise,'' she said.
``No, Miss Stank.''
And he threw back his hood and laughed.
His face was like one she had never seen, but always known. It was
a proud face, with hard, angular cheeks and cold, clear eyes; and it was crowned
with black, angular hair. Intelligence shone from it like light from an
expertly-cleaned window.
``Why not?''
``Because my mind is not for sale.''
...
``Who is John Goat? If you really want to know, you'll have to come
with me, Miss Stank.''
He tore the robe from his body, and was naked.
Dallas gave him her hand, and he took it. They leapt from the train
together, and rose into the objective moonlight.
-----By Michael Wilson
Copyright 2000
