Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
Whatfactorydoyouwanttosee?"Hehadsmiled—attheguilthedidnothavetoassume,attheexplanationshedidnothavetogive—andhehadanswered,"It’sanabandonedoreminearoundSaginawBay,thatI’veheardabout.Theysayit’sexhausted."
TheyhaddrivenacrossMichigantotheoremine.Theyhadwalkedthroughtheledgesofanemptypit,withtheremnantsofacranelikeaskeletonbendingabovethemagainstthesky,andsomeone’srustedlunchboxclatteringawayfromundertheirfeet.Shehadfeltastabofuneasiness,sharperthansadness—butReardenhadsaidcheerfully,"Exhausted,hell!I’llshowthemhowmanytonsanddollarsIcandrawoutofthisplace!"Ontheirwaybacktothecar,hehadsaid,"IfIcouldfindtherightman,I’dbuythatmineforhimtomorrowmorningandsethimuptoworkit."
Thenextday,whentheyweredrivingwestandsouth,towardtheplainsofIllinois,hehadsaidsuddenly,afteralongsilence,"No,I’llhavetowaittilltheyjunktheBill.Themanwhocouldworkthatmine,wouldn’tneedmetoteachhim.Themanwho’dneedme,wouldn’tbeworthadamn."
Theycouldspeakoftheirwork,astheyalwayshad,withfullconfidenceinbeingunderstood.Buttheyneverspokeofeachother.Heactedasiftheirpassionateintimacywereanamelessphysicalfact,nottobeidentifiedinthecommunicationbetweentwominds.
