Атлант расправил плечи

           "Whathappenedtothefactoryrecords?"

           "Whichdoyoumean,ma’am?"

           "Theirproductionrecords.Theirworkrecords.Their...personnelfiles."

           "Oh,there’snothingleftofthatnow.There’sbeenalotoflootinggoingon.Allthemixedownersgrabbedwhatfurnitureorthingstheycouldhauloutofthere,evenifthesheriffdidputapadlockonthedoor.Thepapersandstufflikethat—IguessitwasalltakenbythescavengersfromStarnesville,that’stheplacedowninthevalley,wherethey’rehavingitprettytoughthesedays.Theyburnedthestuffforkindling,mostlikely."

           "Isthereanyoneleftherewhousedtoworkinthefactory?"askedRearden.

           "No,sir.Notaroundhere.TheyallliveddowninStarnesville."

           "Allofthem?"whisperedDagny;shewasthinkingoftheruins."The...engineers,too?"

           "Yes,ma’am.Thatwasthefactorytown.They’veallgone,longago."

           "Doyouhappentorememberthenamesofanymenwhoworkedthere?"

           "No,ma’am."

           "Whatownerwasthelasttooperatethefactory?"askedRearden.

           "Icouldn’tsay,sir.There’sbeensomuchtroubleupthereandtheplacehaschangedhandssomanytimes,sinceoldJedStarnesdied.

           He’sthemanwhobuiltthefactory.Hemadethiswholepartofthecountry,Iguess.Hediedtwelveyearsago.