Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
Justlookandtellmewhatyouthinkitis."
Heglanceddown,thenlookedattentively—thenhewassittingonthefloor,studyingtheobjectintently."It’saqueerwaytoputamotortogether,"hesaid,frowning.
"Readthis,"shesaid,extendingthepages.
Heread,lookedupandsaid,"GoodGod!"
Shewassittingonthefloorbesidehim,andforamomenttheycouldsaynothingelse.
"Itwasthecoil,"shesaid.Shefeltasifhermindwereracing,shecouldnotkeepupwithallthethingswhichasuddenblasthadopenedtohervision,andherwordscamehurtlingagainstoneanother."ItwasthecoilthatInoticedfirst—becauseIhadseendrawingslikeit,notquite,butsomethinglikeit,yearsago,whenIwasinschool—itwasinanoldbook,itwasgivenupasimpossiblelong,longago—butIlikedtoreadeverythingIcouldfindaboutrailroadmotors.Thatbooksaidthattherewasatimewhenmenwerethinkingofit—theyworkedonit,theyspentyearsonexperiments,buttheycouldn’tsolveitandtheygaveitup.Itwasforgottenforgenerations.Ididn’tthinkthatanylivingscientisteverthoughtofitnow.Butsomeonedid.
Someonehassolvedit,now,today!...Hank,doyouunderstand?
Thosemen,longago,triedtoinventamotorthatwoulddrawstaticelectricityfromtheatmosphere,convertitandcreateitsownpowerasitwentalong.Theycouldn’tdoit.Theygaveitup.
