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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 1168/1581
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"
I
just
want
you
to
see
what
it
’
s
like
to
do
something
you
want
,
for
once
.
"
"
There
’
s
not
much
chance
that
they
’
ll
have
a
plane
at
that
field
.
"
"
There
’
s
a
good
chance
that
they
will
.
"
There
were
two
planes
on
the
edge
of
the
airfield
:
one
,
the
half
charred
remnant
of
a
wreck
,
not
worth
salvaging
for
scrap
—
the
other
,
a
Dwight
Sanders
monoplane
,
brand
-
new
,
the
kind
of
ship
that
men
were
pleading
for
,
in
vain
,
all
over
the
country
.
There
was
one
sleepy
attendant
at
the
airfield
,
young
,
pudgy
and
,
but
for
a
faint
smell
of
college
about
his
vocabulary
,
a
brain
brother
of
the
night
dispatcher
of
Bradshaw
.
He
knew
nothing
about
the
two
planes
:
they
had
been
there
when
he
first
took
this
job
a
year
ago
.
He
had
never
inquired
about
them
and
neither
had
anybody
else
.
In
whatever
silent
crumbling
had
gone
on
at
the
distant
headquarters
,
in
the
slow
dissolution
of
a
great
airline
company
,
the
Sanders
monoplane
had
been
forgotten
—
as
assets
of
this
nature
were
being
forgotten
everywhere
.
.
.
as
the
model
of
the
motor
had
been
forgotten
on
a
junk
pile
and
,
left
in
plain
sight
,
had
conveyed
nothing
to
the
inheritors
and
the
takers
-
over
.
.
.
There
were
no
rules
to
tell
the
young
attendant
whether
he
was
expected
to
keep
the
Sanders
plane
or
not
.
The
decision
was
made
for
him
by
the
brusque
,
confident
manner
of
the
two
strangers
—
by
the
credentials
of
Miss
Dagny
Taggart
,
Vice
-
President
of
a
railroad
—
by
brief
hints
about
a
secret
,
emergency
mission
,
which
sounded
like
Washington
to
him
—
by
the
mention
of
an
agreement
with
the
airline
’
s
top
officials
in
New
York
,
whose
names
he
had
never
heard
before
—
by
a
check
for
fifteen
thousand
dollars
,
written
by
Miss
Taggart
,
as
deposit
against
the
return
of
the
Sanders
plane
—
and
by
another
check
,
for
two
hundred
bucks
,
for
his
own
,
personal
courtesy
.
He
fueled
the
plane
,
he
checked
it
as
best
he
could
,
he
found
a
map
of
the
country
’
s
airports
—
and
she
saw
that
a
landing
field
on
the
outskirts
of
Afton
,
Utah
,
was
marked
as
still
in
existence
.
She
had
been
too
tensely
,
swiftly
active
to
feel
anything
,
but
at
the
last
moment
,
when
the
attendant
switched
on
the
floodlights
,
when
she
was
about
to
climb
aboard
,
she
paused
to
glance
at
the
emptiness
of
the
sky
,
then
at
Owen
Kellogg
.
He
stood
,
alone
in
the
white
glare
,
his
feet
planted
firmly
apart
,
on
an
island
of
cement
in
a
ring
of
blinding
lights
,
with
nothing
beyond
the
ring
but
an
irredeemable
night
—
and
she
wondered
which
one
of
them
was
taking
the
greater
chance
and
facing
the
more
desolate
emptiness
,
"
In
case
anything
happens
to
me
,
"
she
said
,
"
will
you
tell
Eddie
Willers
in
my
office
to
give
Jeff
Alien
a
job
,
as
I
promised
?
"
"
I
will
.
.
.
Is
this
all
you
wish
to
be
done
.
.
.
in
case
anything
happens
?
"
