Atlas Shrugged - Ayn Rand [329]
“But, good God, Clem!—I’d be open to court action for it, by the Alliance rules!”
Mr. Weatherby smiled. “What court? Let Wesley take care of that.”
“But listen, Clem, you know—you know just as well as I do—that we can’t afford it!”
Mr. Weatherby shrugged. “That’s a problem for you to work out.”
“How, for Christ’s sake?”
“I don’t know. That’s your job, not ours. You wouldn’t want the government to start telling you how to run your railroad, would you?”
“No, of course not! But—”
“Our job is only to see that the people get fair wages and decent transportation. It’s up to you to deliver. But, of course, if you say that you can’t do the job, why then—”
“I haven’t said it!” Taggart cried hastily. “I haven’t said it at all!”
“Good,” said Mr. Weatherby pleasantly. “We know that you have the ability to find some way to do it.”
He was looking at Taggart; Taggart was looking at Dagny.
“Well, it was just a thought,” said Mr. Weatherby, leaning back in his chair in a manner of modest withdrawal. “Just a thought for you to mull over. I’m only a guest here. I don’t want to interfere. The purpose of the meeting was to discuss the situation of the... branch lines, I believe?”
“Yes,” said the chairman and sighed. “Yes. Now if anyone has a constructive suggestion to offer—He waited; no one answered. ”I believe the picture is clear to all of us.“. He waited. ”It seems to be established that we cannot continue to afford the operation of some of our branch lines ... the Rio Norte Line in particular ... and, therefore, some form of action seems to be indicated....“.
“I think,” said the pallid man with the mustache, his voice unexpectedly confident, “that we should now hear from Miss Taggart.” He leaned forward with a look of hopeful craftiness. As Dagny did not answer, but merely turned to him, he asked, “What do you have to say, Miss Taggart?”
“Nothing.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“All I had to say was contained in the report which Jim has read to you.” She spoke quietly, her voice clear and flat.
“But you did not make any recommendations.”
“I have none to make.”
“But, after all, as our Operating Vice-President, you have a vital interest in the policies of this railroad.”
“I have no authority over the policies of this railroad.”
“Oh, but we are anxious to consider your opinion.”
“I have no opinions.”
“Miss Taggart,” he said, in the smoothly formal tone of an order, “you cannot fail to realize that our branch lines are running at a disastrous deficit—and that we expect you to make them pay.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. That is your job, not ours.”
“I have stated in my report the reasons why that is now impossible. If there are facts which I have overlooked, please name them.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know. We expect you to find some way to make it possible. Our job is only to see that the stockholders get a fair profit. It’s up to you to deliver. You wouldn’t want us to think that you’re unable to do the job and—”
“I am unable to do it.”
The man opened his mouth, but found nothing else to say; he looked at her in bewilderment, wondering why the formula had failed.
“Miss Taggart,” asked the man with the green muffler, “did you imply in your report that the situation of the Rio Norte Line was critical?”
“I stated that it was hopeless.”
“Then what action do you propose?”
“I propose nothing.”
“Aren’t you evading a responsibility?”
“What is it that you think you’re doing?” She spoke evenly, addressing them all. “Are you counting on my not saying that the responsibility is yours, that it was your goddamn policies that brought us where we are? Well, I’m saying it.”
“Miss Taggart, Miss Taggart,” said the chairman in a tone of pleading reproach, “there shouldn’t be any hard feelings among us. Does it matter now who was to blame? We don’t want to quarrel over past mistakes. We must all pull