Atlas Shrugged [203]
"Did you take over the Starnes research laboratory?"
"Yes, yes, it was there. Everything was there."
"His staff, too?"
"Oh, some of them. A lot of them had gone while the factory was closed."
"His research staff?"
"They were gone."
"Did you hire any research men of your own?"
"Yes, yes, some-but let me tell you, I didn't have much money to spend on such things as laboratories, when I never had enough funds to give me a breathing spell. I couldn't even pay the bills I owed for the absolutely essential modernizing and redecorating which I'd had to do -that factory was disgracefully old-fashioned from the standpoint of human efficiency. The executive offices had bare plaster walls and a dinky little washroom. Any modern psychologist will tell you that nobody could do his best in such depressing surroundings. I had to have a brighter color scheme in my office, and a decent modern bathroom with a stall shower. Furthermore, I spent a lot of money on a new cafeteria and a playroom and rest room for the workers. We had to have morale, didn't we? Any enlightened person knows that man is made by the material factors of his background, and that a man's mind is shaped by his tools of production. But people wouldn't wait for the laws of economic determinism to operate upon us. We never had a motor factory before. We had to let the tools condition our minds, didn't we? But nobody gave us time."
"Can you tell me about the work of your research staff?"
"Oh, I had a group of very promising young men, all of them guaranteed by diplomas from the best universities. But it didn't do me any good. I don't know what they were doing. I think they were just sitting around, eating up their salaries."
"Who was in charge of your laboratory?"
"Hell, how can I remember that now?"
"Do you remember any of the names of your research staff?"
"Do you think I had time to meet every hireling in person?"
"Did any of them ever mention to you any experiments with a . . .
with an entirely new kind of motor?"
"What motor? Let me tell you that an executive of my position does not hang around laboratories. I spent most of my time in New York and Chicago, trying to raise money to keep us going."
"Who was the general manager of tie factory?"
"A very able fellow by the name of Roy Cunningham. He died last year in an auto accident. Drunk driving, they said."
"Can you give me the names and addresses of any of your associates? Anyone you remember?"
"I don't know what's become of them. I wasn't in a mood to keep track of that."
"Have you preserved any of the factory records?"
"I certainly have."
She sat up eagerly. "Would you let me see them?"
"You bet!"
He seemed eager to comply; he rose at once and hurried out of the room. What he put down before her, when he returned, was a thick album of clippings: it contained his newspaper interviews and his press agent's releases.
"I was one of the big industrialists, too," he said proudly. "I was a national figure, as you can see. My life will make a book of deep, human significance. I'd have written it long ago, if I had the proper tools of production." He banged angrily upon his typewriter. "I can't work on this damn thing. It skips spaces. How can I get any inspiration and write a best seller with a typewriter that skips spaces?"
"Thank you, Mr. Hunsacker," she said. "I believe this is all you can tell me." She rose. "You don't happen to know what became of the Starnes heirs?"
"Oh, they ran for cover after they'd wrecked the factory. There were three of them, two sons and a daughter. Last I heard, they were hiding their faces out in Durance,