Атлант расправил плечи
The Sacred and the Profane
"Shepointedatthebrokenshape."Butthereitis."
Henodded.Hewasnotsmiling.Hesatlookingattheremnant,intentonsomethoughtofhisown;itdidnotseemtobeahappythought.
"Hank!Don’tyouunderstandwhatthismeans?It’sthegreatestrevolutioninpowermotorssincetheinternal-combustionengine—greaterthanthat!Itwipeseverythingout—andmakeseverythingpossible.TohellwithDwightSandersandallofthem!Who’llwanttolookataDiesel?Who’llwanttoworryaboutoil,coalorrefuelingstations?DoyouseewhatIsee?Abrand-newlocomotivehalfthesizeofasingleDieselunit,andwithtentimesthepower.Aself-generator,workingonafewdropsoffuel,withnolimitstoitsenergy.Thecleanest,swiftest,cheapestmeansofmotioneverdevised.Doyouseewhatthiswilldotoourtransportationsystemsandtothecountry—inaboutoneyear?"
Therewasnosparkofexcitementinhisface.Hesaidslowly,"Whodesignedit?Whywasitlefthere?"
"We’llfindout."
Heweighedthepagesinhishandreflectively."Dagny,"heasked,"ifyoudon’tfindthemanwhomadeit,willyoubeabletoreconstructthatmotorfromwhatisleft?"
Shetookalongmoment,thenthewordfellwithasinkingsound:"No."
"Nobodywill.Hehaditallright.Itworked—judgingbywhathewriteshere.ItisthegreatestthingI’veeverlaideyeson.Itwas.Wecan’tmakeitworkagain.
