Atlas Shrugged

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 Chalmers stared at him, stupefied. "We're going to stand here till morning?"
"Yes, Mr. Chalmers."
"Here?"
"Yes."
"But I have a rally in San Francisco in the evening!"
The conductor did not answer.
"Why? Why do we have to stand? Why in hell? What happened?"
Slowly, patiently, with contemptuous politeness, the conductor gave him an exact account of the
situation. But years ago, in grammar school, in high school, in college, Kip Chalmers had been taught that
man does not and need not live by reason.
"Damn your tunnel!" he screamed. "Do you think I'm going to let you hold me up because of some
miserable tunnel? Do you want to wreck vital national plans on account of a tunnel? Tell your engineer
that I must be in San Francisco by evening and that he's got to get me there!"
"How?"
"That's your job, not mine!"
"There is no way to do it."
"Then find a way, God damn you!"
The conductor did not answer.
"Do you think I'll let your miserable technological problems interfere with crucial social issues? Do you
know who I am? Tell that engineer to start moving, if he values his job!"
"The engineer has his orders."
"Orders be damned! I give the orders these days! Tell him to start at once!"
"Perhaps you'd better speak to the station agent, Mr. Chalmers. I have no authority to answer you as I'd
like to," said the conductor, and walked out.
Chalmers leaped to his feet. "Say, Kip . . ." said Lester Tuck uneasily, "maybe it's true . . . maybe they
can't do it."
"They can if they have to!" snapped Chalmers, marching resolutely to the door.
Years ago, in college, he had been taught that the only effective means to impel men to action was fear.
In the dilapidated office of Winston Station, he confronted a sleepy man with slack, worn features, and a
frightened young boy who sat at the operator's desk. They listened, in silent stupor, to a stream of