Атлант расправил плечи

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           Inthesummerdaysandintheheavystillnessoftheeveningsofthecity,thereweremomentswhenalonelymanorwoman—onaparkbench,onastreetcorner,atanopenwindow—wouldseeinanewspaperabriefmentionoftheprogressoftheJohnGaltLine,andwouldlookatthecitywithasuddenstabofhope.Theyweretheveryyoung,whofeltthatitwasthekindofeventtheylongedtoseehappeningintheworld—ortheveryold,whohadseenaworldinwhichsucheventsdidhappen.Theydidnotcareaboutrailroads,theyknewnothingaboutbusiness,theyknewonlythatsomeonewasfightingagainstgreatoddsandwinning.Theydidnotadmirethefighters’purpose,theybelievedthevoicesofpublicopinion—andyet,whentheyreadthattheLinewasgrowing,theyfeltamoment’ssparkleandwonderedwhyitmadetheirownproblemsseemeasier.

           Silently,unknowntoeveryoneexcepttothefreightyardofTaggartTranscontinentalinCheyenneandtheofficeoftheJohnGaltLineinthedarkalley,freightwasrollinginandordersforcarswerepilingup—forthefirsttraintorunontheJohnGaltLine.DagnyTaggarthadannouncedthatthefirsttrainwouldbe,notapassengerexpressloadedwithcelebritiesandpoliticians,aswasthecustom,butafreightspecial.

           Thefreightcamefromfarms,fromlumberyards,fromminesalloverthecountry,fromdistantplaceswhoselastmeansofsurvivalwerethenewfactoriesofColorado.