Атлант расправил плечи
Their Brothers’ Keepers
Aqueersortofgang,too—realgoons,someofthem,thatI’dswearneversteppedinsideasteelplantbefore.I’vehadorderstogetasmanyof‘ourboys’inaspossible.Theywouldn’ttellmewhy.Idon’tknowwhatitisthey’replanning.I’vetriedtopumpthem,butthey’reactingprettycageyaboutit.Idon’tthinktheytrustmeanymore.I’mlosingtherighttouch,Iguess.AllIknowisthey’regettingsettopullsomethinghere."
"Thanksforwarningme."
"I’lltrytogetthedopeonit.I’lltrymydamndesttogetitintime."Heturnedbrusquelyandstartedoff,butstopped."Mr.Rearden,ifitwereuptoyou,youwouldhavehiredme?"
"Iwouldhave,gladlyandatonce."
"Thankyou,Mr.Rearden,"hesaid,hisvoicesolemnandlow,thenwalkedaway.
Reardenstoodlookingafterhim,seeing,withatearingsmileofpity,whatitwasthattheex-relativist,theex-pragmatist,theex-amoralistwascarryingawaywithhimforconsolation.
OntheafternoonofSeptember11,acopperwirebrokeinMinnesota,stoppingthebeltsofagrainelevatoratasmallcountrystationofTaggartTranscontinental.
Afloodofwheatwasmovingdownthehighways,theroads,theabandonedtrailsofthecountryside,emptyingthousandsofacresoffarmlanduponthefragiledamsoftherailroad’sstations.
