Атлант расправил плечи
The Concerto of Deliverance
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Reardenwasnoticingthetornfleshoftheboy’shands,thedryingmudofbloodanddustonhispalmsandhisclothing,graypatchesofdustonkneesandstomach,scrambledwiththeneedlesofburs.Intheintermittentfitsofmoonlight,hecouldseethetrailofflattenedweedsandglisteningsmearsgoingoffintothedarknessbelow.Hedreadedtothinkhowfartheboyhadcrawledandforhowlong.
"Theydidn’twantyoutobeheretonight,Mr.Rearden...Theydidn’twantyoutoseetheir‘People’srebellion’...Afterwards...youknowhowtheyscrewuptheevidence...therewon’tbeastraightstorytogetanywhere...andtheyhopetofoolthecountry...andyou...thatthey’reactingtoprotectyoufromviolence...
Don’tletthemgetawaywithit,Mr.Rearden!...Tellthecountry...tellthepeople...tellthenewspapers...TellthemthatItoldyou...it’sunderoath...Iswearit...thatmakesitlegal,doesn’tit?...doesn’tit?...thatgivesyouachance?"
Reardenpressedtheboy’shandinhis."Thankyou,kid."
"I...I’msorryI’mlate,Mr.Rearden,but...buttheydidn’tletmeinonittillthelastminute...tilljustbeforeitstarted...
Theycalledmeinona...astrategyconference...therewasamantherebythenameofPeters...fromtheUnificationBoard...he’sastoogeofTinkyHolloway...who’sastoogeofOrrenBoyle...Whattheywantedfrommewas...theywantedmetosignalotofpasses...
