Атлант расправил плечи
The Aristocracy of pull
‘Andifit’ssomethingthatIcan’tresist,’hesaid,‘IswearthatI’llkeepenoughofmymindtoleaveyoualetterandgiveyousomehintofwhatitis,sothatyouwon’thavetorackyourbraininthekindofdreadwe’rebothfeelingnow.’That’swhatheswore.Twoweeksago,hewent.Heleftmenoletter...Dagny,Ican’ttellwhatI’lldowhenIseeit—whateveritwasthattheysawwhentheywent."
Itseemedtoherthatsomedestroyerwasmovingsoundlesslythroughthecountryandthelightsweredyingathistouch—someone,shethoughtbitterly,whohadreversedtheprincipleoftheTwentiethCenturymotorandwasnowturningkineticenergyintostatic.
Thatwastheenemy—shethought,asshesatatherdeskinthegatheringtwilight—withwhomshewasrunningarace.ThemonthlyreportfromQuentinDanielslayonherdesk.Shecouldnotbecertain,asyet,thatDanielswouldsolvethesecretofthemotor;butthedestroyer,shethought,wasmovingswiftly,surely,ataneveracceleratingtempo;shewonderedwhether,bythetimesherebuiltthemotor,therewouldbeanyworldlefttouseit.
ShehadlikedQuentinDanielsfromthemomentheenteredherofficeontheirfirstinterview.Hewasalankymaninhisearlythirties,withahomely,angularfaceandanattractivesmile.
