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"
No
!
He
hasn
’
t
had
enough
!
He
hasn
’
t
even
screamed
yet
!
"
"
Jim
!
"
cried
Mouch
suddenly
,
terrified
by
something
in
Taggart
’
s
face
.
"
We
can
’
t
afford
to
kill
him
!
You
know
it
!
"
"
I
don
’
t
care
!
I
want
to
break
him
!
I
want
to
hear
him
scream
!
I
want
—
"
And
then
it
was
Taggart
who
screamed
.
It
was
a
long
,
sudden
,
piercing
scream
,
as
if
at
some
sudden
sight
,
though
his
eyes
were
staring
at
space
and
seemed
blankly
sightless
.
The
sight
he
was
confronting
was
within
him
.
The
protective
walls
of
emotion
,
of
evasion
,
of
pretense
,
of
semi
-
thinking
and
pseudo
-
words
,
built
up
by
him
through
all
of
his
years
,
had
crashed
in
the
span
of
one
moment
—
the
moment
when
he
knew
that
he
wanted
Galt
to
die
,
knowing
fully
that
his
own
death
would
follow
.
He
was
suddenly
seeing
the
motive
that
had
directed
all
the
actions
of
his
life
.
It
was
not
his
incommunicable
soul
or
his
love
for
others
or
his
social
duty
or
any
of
the
fraudulent
sounds
by
which
he
had
maintained
his
self
-
esteem
:
it
was
the
lust
to
destroy
whatever
was
living
,
for
the
sake
of
whatever
was
not
.
It
was
the
urge
to
defy
reality
by
the
destruction
of
every
living
value
,
for
the
sake
of
proving
to
himself
that
he
could
exist
in
defiance
of
reality
and
would
never
have
to
be
bound
by
any
solid
,
immutable
facts
.
A
moment
ago
,
he
had
been
able
to
feel
that
he
hated
Galt
above
all
men
,
that
the
hatred
was
proof
of
Galt
’
s
evil
,
which
he
need
define
no
further
,
that
he
wanted
Galt
to
be
destroyed
for
the
sake
of
his
own
survival
.
Now
he
knew
that
he
had
wanted
Galt
’
s
destruction
at
the
price
of
his
own
destruction
to
follow
,
he
knew
that
he
had
never
wanted
to
survive
,
he
knew
that
it
was
Galt
’
s
greatness
he
had
wanted
to
torture
and
destroy
—
he
was
seeing
it
as
greatness
by
his
own
admission
,
greatness
by
the
only
standard
that
existed
,
whether
anyone
chose
to
admit
it
or
not
:
the
greatness
of
a
man
who
was
master
of
reality
in
a
manner
no
other
had
equaled
.
In
the
moment
when
he
,
James
Taggart
,
had
found
himself
facing
the
ultimatum
:
to
accept
reality
or
die
,
it
was
death
his
emotions
had
chosen
,
death
,
rather
than
surrender
to
that
realm
of
which
Galt
was
so
radiant
a
son
.
In
the
person
of
Galt
—
he
knew
—
he
had
sought
the
destruction
of
all
existence
.
It
was
not
by
means
of
words
that
this
knowledge
confronted
his
consciousness
:
as
all
his
knowledge
had
consisted
of
emotions
,
so
now
he
was
held
by
an
emotion
and
a
vision
that
he
had
no
power
to
dispel
.
He
was
no
longer
able
to
summon
the
fog
to
conceal
the
sight
of
all
those
blind
alleys
he
had
struggled
never
to
be
forced
to
see
:
now
,
at
the
end
of
every
alley
,
he
was
seeing
his
hatred
of
existence
—
he
was
seeing
the
face
of
Cherryl
Taggart
with
her
joyous
eagerness
to
live
and
that
it
was
this
particular
eagerness
he
had
always
wanted
to
defeat
—
he
was
seeing
his
face
as
the
face
of
a
killer
whom
all
men
should
rightfully
loathe
,
who
destroyed
values
for
being
values
,
who
killed
in
order
not
to
discover
his
own
irredeemable
evil
.
"
No
.
.
.
"
he
moaned
,
staring
at
that
vision
,
shaking
his
head
to
escape
it
.
"
No
.
.
.
No
.
.
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
Galt
.
