Atlas Shrugged [327]
The next voice she heard was Mr. Weatherby's: "Wait a minute, boys.
Do you happen to remember that you need to obtain permission before you can close a branch line?"
"Good God, Clem!" Taggart's cry was open panic. "Surely there's not going to be any trouble about-"
"I wouldn't be too sure of it. Don't forget that you're a public service and you're expected to provide transportation, whether you make money or not."
"But you know that it's impossible!"
"Well, that's fine for you, that solves your problem, if you close that Line-but what will it do to us? Leaving a whole state like Colorado practically without transportation-what sort of public sentiment will it arouse? Now, of course, if you gave Wesley something in return, to balance it, if you granted the unions' wage raises-"
"I can't! I gave my word to the National Alliance!"
"Your word? Well, suit yourself; We wouldn't want to force the Alliance. We much prefer to have things happen voluntarily. But these are difficult times and it's hard telling what's liable to happen. With everybody going broke and the tax receipts falling, we might-fact being that we hold well over fifty per cent of the Taggart bonds-we might be compelled to call for the payment of railroad bonds within six months."
"What?!" screamed Taggart.
"-or sooner."
"But you can't! Oh God, you can't! It was understood that the moratorium was for five years! It was a contract, an obligation! We were counting on it!"
"An obligation? Aren't you old-fashioned, Jim? There aren't any obligations, except the necessity of the moment. The original owners of those bonds were counting on their payments, too."
Dagny burst out laughing.
She could not stop herself, she could not resist it, she could not reject a moment's chance to avenge Ellis Wyatt, Andrew Stockton, Lawrence Hammond, all the others. She said, torn by laughter: "Thanks, Mr. Weatherby!"
Mr. Weatherby looked at her in astonishment. "Yes?" he asked coldly.
"I knew that we would have to pay for those bonds one way or another. We're paying."
"Miss Taggart," said the chairman severely, "don't you think that I told-you-so's are futile? To talk of what would have happened if we had acted differently is nothing but purely theoretical speculation. We cannot indulge in theory, we have to deal with the practical reality of the moment."
"Right," said Mr. Weatherby. "That's what you ought to be-practical. Now we offer you a trade. You do something for us and we'll do something for you. You give the unions their wage raises and we'll give you permission to close the Rio Norte Line."
"All right," said James Taggart, his voice choked.
Standing at the window, she heard them vote on their decision. She heard them declare that the John Galt Line would end in six weeks, on March 31.
It's only a matter of getting through the next few moments, she thought; take care of the next few moments, and then the next, a few at a time, and after a while it will be easier; you'll get over it, after a while.
The assignment she gave herself for the next few moments was to put on her coat and be first to leave the room.
Then there was the assignment of riding in an elevator down the great, silent length of the Taggart Building. Then there was the assignment of crossing the dark lobby.
Halfway through the lobby, she stopped. A man stood leaning against the wall, in a manner of purposeful waiting-and it was she who was his purpose, because he was looking straight at her. She did not recognize him at once, because she felt certain that the face she saw could not possibly be there in that lobby at this hour.
"Hi, Slug," he said softly.
She answered, groping for some great distance that had once been hers, "Hi, Frisco."
"Have they finally murdered John Galt?"
She struggled to place the moment into some orderly sequence of time. The question belonged to the present, but the solemn