April 15

John Galt dropped by my cabin last night.

It was a beautiful clear early spring evening, lit by a waxing gibbous moon. When he knocked, I recognized him immediately, not by his red hair, but by his relaxed sense of peaceful purpose. Most people I meet these days look haunted, or hunted — as if trapped in a desperate race. Against what?

He suggested we take a walk.

Our shadows drifted over last year's corn stalks: row after row of tightly spaced industrial monoculture, hacked off a uniform 8" above the eroded topsoil. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?" he asked.

"No, of course not."

"Do you believe in involuntary redistribution of wealth?" he asked. "A welfare state? Corporate favoritism — bailouts?"

"Absolutely not."

"Do you believe your government has the right to intervene in foreign affairs?" he asked. "Specifically for purposes of political, military or economic gain? Or to engage in warfare without the approval of Congress?"

"No."

"Do you believe your government has the right to monitor the private communications of citizens within your national borders...without a warrant?"

"Hell no."

"Do you believe your money supply should be subservient to a private corporation: the Federal Reserve?"

"Of course not." I was whispering, dismayed.

Galt was smiling.

"Then, my friend, why do you continue to support the system?" he asked. "You have just admitted to taxation without representation. Your direct ancestor fought in a war — a revolution — to protest that principle."

When I looked up, he was gone. I shrugged, deep in thought.

Was there something I was supposed to do today?