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- Айн Рэнд
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- Стр. 1289/1581
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The
muffled
scream
of
a
woman
across
the
room
and
some
half
grasped
signal
on
the
edge
of
Dagny
’
s
vision
,
came
simultaneously
and
made
her
whirl
to
look
at
the
city
.
The
calendar
was
run
by
a
mechanism
locked
in
a
room
behind
the
screen
,
unrolling
the
same
film
year
after
year
,
projecting
the
dates
in
steady
rotation
,
in
changeless
rhythm
,
never
moving
but
on
the
stroke
of
midnight
.
The
speed
of
Dagny
’
s
turn
gave
her
time
to
see
a
phenomenon
as
unexpected
as
if
a
planet
had
reversed
its
orbit
in
the
sky
:
she
saw
the
words
"
September
2
"
moving
upward
and
vanishing
past
the
edge
of
the
screen
.
Then
,
written
across
the
enormous
page
,
stopping
time
,
as
a
last
message
to
the
world
and
to
the
world
’
s
motor
which
was
New
York
,
she
saw
the
lines
of
a
sharp
,
intransigent
handwriting
:
Brother
,
you
asked
for
it
!
Francisco
Domingo
Carlos
Andres
Sebastian
d
’
Anconia
She
did
not
know
which
shock
was
greater
:
the
sight
of
the
message
or
the
sound
of
Rearden
’
s
laughter
—
Rearden
,
standing
on
his
feet
,
in
full
sight
and
hearing
of
the
room
behind
him
,
laughing
above
their
moans
of
panic
,
laughing
in
greeting
,
in
salute
,
in
acceptance
of
the
gift
he
had
tried
to
reject
,
in
release
,
in
triumph
,
in
surrender
.
On
the
evening
of
September
7
,
a
copper
wire
broke
in
Montana
,
stopping
the
motor
of
a
loading
crane
on
a
spur
track
of
Taggart
Transcontinental
,
at
the
rim
of
the
Stanford
Copper
Mine
.
The
mine
had
been
working
on
three
shifts
,
its
days
and
nights
blending
into
a
single
stretch
of
struggle
to
lose
no
minute
,
no
drop
of
copper
it
could
squeeze
from
the
shelves
of
a
mountain
into
the
nation
’
s
industrial
desert
.
The
crane
broke
down
at
the
task
of
loading
a
train
;
it
stopped
abruptly
and
hung
still
against
the
evening
sky
,
between
a
string
of
empty
cars
and
piles
of
suddenly
immovable
ore
.
The
men
of
the
railroad
and
of
the
mine
stopped
in
dazed
bewilderment
:
they
found
that
in
all
the
complexity
of
their
equipment
,
among
the
drills
,
the
motors
,
the
derricks
,
the
delicate
gauges
,
the
ponderous
floodlights
beating
down
into
the
pits
and
ridges
of
a
mountain
—
there
was
no
wire
to
mend
the
crane
.
They
stopped
,
like
men
on
an
ocean
liner
propelled
by
ten
-
thousand
-
horsepower
generators
,
but
perishing
for
lack
of
a
safety
pin
.
The
station
agent
,
a
young
man
with
a
swift
body
and
a
brusque
voice
,
stripped
the
wiring
from
the
station
building
and
set
the
crane
in
motion
again
—
and
while
the
ore
went
clattering
to
fill
the
cars
,
the
light
of
candles
came
trembling
through
the
dusk
from
the
windows
of
the
station
.
