Atlas Shrugged – Day 064 – pp. 701-710
Welcome to Part III entitled “A is A” (What the hell does that mean?)
When last we left our heroine, she was at the stick of a P-51 North American Mustang fighter plane, gunning down Nazis over Alsace Lorraine, France. . .
No she wasn’t.
But she was chasing down the “destroyer” in a borrowed aircraft for which I’m fairly sure she didn’t have a license.
And being unlicensed, she crashed.
But now she’s coming to.
“When she opened her eyes, she saw sunlight, green leaves and a man’s face.”
Yippee!!
“. . .a face that bore no mark of pain or fear of guilt.”
Good lookin’ boy.
“The light cloth of his shirt seemed to stress, rather than hide, the structure of his figure, his skin was suntanned, his body had the hardness, the gaunt, tensile strength, the clean precision of a foundry casting. . .”
He’s buff.
Yes, he’s John Galt.
Where is she? Galt tells her she’s landed in the Taggart Terminal. Huh?
He’ll explain later. (I figure he’s got a lotta ‘splainin to do.)
So how did she get there.
Well John Galt goes into a scientific explanation of heat waves and refractor rays that project the image of a field where none actually is and that no pilot would ever attempt a landing such as she did, except her. I didn’t understand it all. The valley’s supposed to be secret. Kind of like that waterfall that hides the Bat Cave.
He picks her up and starts to carry her. As they’re going she hears music.
“That’s the fifth concerto by Richard Halley, isn’t it?”
“Yes”
“When did he write it?”
“Why don’t you ask him in person?”
“Is he here?”
“It’s he who’s playing it. That’s his house.”
Welcome to the land of the lost.
As they approach a makeshift town, Dagny notices a three foot dollar sign made of solid gold hanging over the way into town.
“What’s that?” She gasped pointing at the sign.
“Oh, that’s Francisco’s private joke.”
“Francisco — who?” she whispered knowing the answer.
“”Francisco d’Anconia.”
“Is here here, too?”
“He will be, any day now.”
“What do you mean his joke?”
“He gave that sign as an anniversary present to the owner of this place. And then we all adopted it as our particular emblem. We liked the idea.”
“Aren’t you the owner?”
“I, no.”
Here comes the owner. It’s Midas Mulligan! Along with Hugh Akston. It’s a freakin’ reunion.
I suppose by now, we’ll be meeting all the characters gone missing.
They all pile into Midas’ Hammond convertible and head into town.
As they’re driving along, she spots a familiar face in coveralls. It’s Ellis Wyatt!
“Dagny! You, too, at last? One of us?”
“No,” said Galt. “Miss Taggart is a castaway.”
Guess she’s not staying.
The car stopped in front of the lonely house. It was built of rough granite blocks, with a sheet of glass for most of its front wall.
Sounds nice. John Galt’s house.
He carried her across the sun rays into a small guest room and placed her down on a bed.
“Am I a guest here or a prisoner?” she asked.
“The choice will be yours, Miss Taggart.”
They talk a bit about his legend and the story the tramp told her. Then she suddenly realizes that he’s the one who invented the motor.
“That night. . . twelve years ago. . . a spring night when you walked out of a meeting of six thousand murderers — that story is true, isn’t it?
“Yes.”
“You told them you would stop the motor of the world?”
“I have.”
“What have you done?”
“I’ve done nothing, Miss Taggart. And that’s the whole of my secret.”
Well, nothing new here so far, but I think they’re planning a little shin-dig for the evening. We’ll have to see what transpires there. Welcome to Atlantis.