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- Айн Рэнд
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- Атлант расправил плечи
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- Стр. 1281/1581
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"
The
d
’
Anconia
workers
everywhere
had
been
handed
their
last
pay
checks
,
in
cash
,
at
nine
A
.
M
.
,
and
by
nine
-
thirty
had
been
moved
off
the
premises
.
The
ore
docks
,
the
smelters
,
the
laboratories
,
the
office
buildings
were
demolished
.
Nothing
was
left
of
the
d
’
Anconia
ore
ships
which
had
been
in
port
—
and
only
lifeboats
carrying
the
crews
were
left
of
those
ships
which
had
been
at
sea
.
As
to
the
d
’
Anconia
mines
,
some
were
buried
under
tons
of
blasted
rock
,
while
others
were
found
not
to
be
worth
the
price
of
blasting
.
An
astounding
number
of
these
mines
,
as
reports
pouring
in
seem
to
indicate
,
had
continued
to
be
run
,
even
though
exhausted
years
ago
.
"
Among
the
thousands
of
d
’
Anconia
employees
,
the
police
have
found
no
one
with
any
knowledge
of
how
this
monstrous
plot
had
been
conceived
,
organized
and
carried
out
.
But
the
cream
of
the
d
’
Anconia
staff
are
not
here
any
longer
.
The
most
efficient
of
the
executives
,
mineralogists
,
engineers
,
superintendents
have
vanished
—
all
the
men
upon
whom
the
People
’
s
State
had
been
counting
to
carry
on
the
work
and
cushion
the
process
of
readjustment
.
The
most
able
—
correction
:
the
most
selfish
—
of
the
men
are
gone
.
Reports
from
the
various
banks
indicate
that
there
are
no
d
’
Anconia
accounts
left
anywhere
;
the
money
has
been
spent
down
to
the
last
penny
.
"
Ladies
and
gentlemen
,
the
d
’
Anconia
fortune
—
the
greatest
fortune
on
earth
,
the
legendary
fortune
of
the
centuries
—
has
ceased
to
exist
.
In
place
of
the
golden
dawn
of
a
new
age
,
the
People
’
s
States
of
Chile
and
Argentina
are
left
with
a
pile
of
rubble
and
hordes
of
unemployed
on
their
hands
.
"
No
clue
has
been
found
to
the
fate
or
the
whereabouts
of
Senor
Francisco
d
’
Anconia
.
He
has
vanished
,
leaving
nothing
behind
him
,
not
even
a
message
of
farewell
.
"
Thank
you
,
my
darling
—
thank
you
in
the
name
of
the
last
of
us
,
even
if
you
will
not
hear
it
and
will
not
care
to
hear
.
.
.
It
was
not
a
sentence
,
but
the
silent
emotion
of
a
prayer
in
her
mind
,
addressed
to
the
laughing
face
of
a
boy
she
had
known
at
sixteen
.
Then
she
noticed
that
she
was
clinging
to
the
radio
,
as
if
the
faint
electric
beat
within
it
still
held
a
tie
to
the
only
living
force
on
earth
,
which
it
had
transmitted
for
a
few
brief
moments
and
which
now
filled
the
room
where
all
else
was
dead
.
As
distant
remnants
of
the
explosion
’
s
wreckage
,
she
noticed
a
sound
that
came
from
Jim
,
part
-
moan
,
part
-
scream
,
part
-
growl
—
then
the
sight
of
Jim
’
s
shoulders
shaking
over
a
telephone
and
his
distorted
voice
screaming
,
"
But
,
Rodrigo
,
you
said
it
was
safe
!
Rodrigo
—
oh
God
!
—
do
you
know
how
much
I
’
d
sunk
into
it
?
"
—
then
the
shriek
of
another
phone
on
his
desk
,
and
his
voice
snarling
into
another
receiver
,
his
hand
still
clutching
the
first
,
"
Shut
your
trap
,
Orren
!
What
are
you
to
do
?
What
do
I
care
,
God
damn
you
!
"
There
were
people
rushing
into
the
office
,
the
telephones
were
screaming
and
,
alternating
between
pleas
and
curses
,
Jim
kept
yelling
into
one
receiver
,
"
Get
me
Santiago
!
.
.
.
Get
Washington
to
get
me
Santiago
!
"
