Атлант расправил плечи
The Utopia of Greed
"Ididnotexpectittobeasgreatasthis—orashard."
Ithadgrowndarkandthemountainshadblendedwiththesky.
Hangingdetachedinspace,therewerethelightsofthevalleybelowthem,theredbreathofStockton’sfoundryabove,andthelightedstringofwindowsofMulligan’shouse,likearailroadcarimbeddedinthesky.
"Ididhavearival,"saidDr.Akstonslowly."ItwasRobertStadler...Don’tfrown,John—it’spast...Johndidlovehim,once.
Well,sodidI—no,notquite,butwhatonefeltforamindlikeStadler’swaspainfullyclosetolove,itwasthatrarestofpleasures:admiration.No,Ididnotlovehim,butheandIhadalwaysfeltasifwewerefellowsurvivorsfromsomevanishingageorland,inthegibberingswampofmediocrityaroundus.ThemortalsinofRobertStadlerwasthatheneveridentifiedhisproperhomeland...Hehatedstupidity.ItwastheonlyemotionIhadeverseenhimdisplaytowardpeople—abiting,bitter,wearyhatredforanyineptitudethatdaredtoopposehim.Hewantedhisownway,hewantedtobeleftalonetopursueit,hewantedtobrushpeopleoutofhispath—andheneveridentifiedthemeanstoitorthenatureofhispathandofhisenemies.Hetookashortcut.Areyousmiling,MissTaggart?
Youhatehim,don’tyou?Yes,youknowthekindofshortcuthetook...Hetoldyouthatwewererivalsforthesethreestudents.
