-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Айн Рэнд
-
- Атлант расправил плечи
-
- Стр. 1378/1581
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Then
—
even
though
it
was
only
a
sentence
he
had
heard
all
his
life
—
he
felt
a
deafening
crash
within
him
,
as
of
a
steel
door
dropping
open
at
the
touch
of
the
final
tumbrel
,
the
one
small
number
completing
the
sum
and
releasing
the
intricate
lock
,
the
answer
uniting
all
the
pieces
,
the
questions
and
the
unsolved
wounds
of
his
life
.
In
the
moment
of
silence
after
the
crash
,
it
seemed
to
him
that
he
heard
Francisco
’
s
voice
,
asking
him
quietly
in
the
ballroom
of
this
building
,
yet
asking
it
also
here
and
now
:
"
Who
is
the
guiltiest
man
in
this
room
?
"
He
heard
his
own
answer
of
the
past
:
"
I
suppose
—
James
Taggart
?
"
and
Francisco
’
s
voice
saying
without
reproach
:
"
No
,
Mr
.
Rearden
,
it
’
s
not
James
Taggart
,
"
—
but
here
,
in
this
room
and
this
moment
,
his
mind
answered
:
"
I
am
.
"
He
had
cursed
these
looters
for
their
stubborn
blindness
?
It
was
he
who
had
made
it
possible
.
From
the
first
extortion
he
had
accepted
,
from
the
first
directive
he
had
obeyed
,
he
had
given
them
cause
to
believe
that
reality
was
a
thing
to
be
cheated
,
that
one
could
demand
the
irrational
and
someone
somehow
would
provide
it
.
If
he
had
accepted
the
Equalization
of
Opportunity
Bill
,
if
he
had
accepted
Directive
10
-
289
,
if
he
had
accepted
the
law
that
those
who
could
not
equal
his
ability
had
the
right
to
dispose
of
it
,
that
those
who
had
not
earned
were
to
profit
,
but
he
who
had
was
to
lose
,
that
those
who
could
not
think
were
to
command
,
but
he
who
could
was
to
obey
them
—
then
were
they
illogical
in
believing
that
they
existed
in
an
irrational
universe
?
He
had
made
it
for
them
,
he
had
provided
it
.
Were
they
illogical
in
believing
that
theirs
was
only
to
wish
,
to
wish
with
no
concern
for
the
possible
—
and
that
his
was
to
fulfill
their
wishes
,
by
means
they
did
not
have
to
know
or
name
?
They
,
the
impotent
mystics
,
struggling
to
escape
the
responsibility
of
reason
,
had
known
that
he
,
the
rationalist
,
had
undertaken
to
serve
their
whims
.
They
had
known
that
he
had
given
them
a
blank
check
on
reality
—
his
was
not
to
ask
why
?
—
theirs
was
not
to
ask
how
?
—
let
them
demand
that
he
give
them
a
share
of
his
wealth
,
then
all
that
he
owns
,
then
more
than
he
owns
—
impossible
?
—
no
,
he
’
ll
do
something
!
He
did
not
know
that
he
had
leaped
to
his
feet
,
that
he
stood
staring
down
at
James
Taggart
,
seeing
in
the
unbridled
shapelessness
of
Taggart
’
s
features
the
answer
to
all
the
devastation
he
had
witnessed
through
the
years
of
his
life
.
"
What
’
s
the
matter
,
Mr
.
Rearden
?
What
have
I
said
?
"
Taggart
was
asking
with
rising
anxiety
—
but
he
was
out
of
the
reach
of
Taggart
’
s
voice
.
He
was
seeing
the
progression
of
the
years
,
the
monstrous
extortions
,
the
impossible
demands
,
the
inexplicable
victories
of
evil
,
the
preposterous
plans
and
unintelligible
goals
proclaimed
in
volumes
of
muddy
philosophy
,
the
desperate
wonder
of
the
victims
who
thought
that
some
complex
,
malevolent
wisdom
was
moving
the
powers
destroying
the
world
—
and
all
of
it
had
rested
on
one
tenet
behind
the
shifty
eyes
of
the
victors
:
he
’
ll
do
something
!
.
.
.
We
’
ll
get
away
with
it
—
he
’
ll
let
us
—
he
’
ll
do
something
!
.
.
.
You
businessmen
kept
predicting
that
we
’
d
perish
,
but
we
haven
’
t
.
