Атлант расправил плечи
The Top and the Bottom
"Idon‘t,either,MissTaggart."
EddieWillersatehisdinnersintheemployees’cafeteriaoftheTaggartTerminal.Therewasarestaurantinthebuilding,patronizedbyTaggartexecutives,buthedidnotlikeit.Thecafeteriaseemedpartoftherailroad,andhefeltmoreathome.
Thecafeterialayunderground.Itwasalargeroomwithwallsofwhitetilethatglitteredinthereflectionsofelectriclightsandlookedlikesilverbrocade.Ithadahighceiling,sparklingcountersofglassandchromium,asenseofspaceandlight.
TherewasarailroadworkerwhomEddieWillersmetattimesinthecafeteria.Eddielikedhisface.Theyhadbeendrawnintoachanceconversationonce,andthenitbecametheirhabittodinetogetherwhenevertheyhappenedtomeet.
Eddiehadforgottenwhetherhehadeveraskedtheworker’snameorthenatureofhisjob;hesupposedthatthejobwasn’tmuch,becausetheman’sclotheswereroughandgrease-stained.Themanwasnotapersontohim,butonlyasilentpresencewithanenormousintensityofinterestintheonethingwhichwasthemeaningofhisownlife:inTaggartTranscontinental.
Tonight,comingdownlate,Eddiesawtheworkeratatableinacornerofthehalf-desertedroom.Eddiesmiledhappily,wavingtohim,andcarriedhistrayoffoodtotheworker’stable.
Intheprivacyoftheircorner,Eddiefeltatease,relaxingafterthelongstrainoftheday.
