It’s every capitalist’s favorite time of year; a time of Black Friday sales,  commerce, and cookies!

Chapter Seven: The More You Know…

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? –Juvenal

The surveillance van was state of the art. No expense had been spared in equipping it with all the newest bells and whistles of the professional voyeur’s trade. Declaring that the van would be “fighting terrorism” the Health Board had kitted it out with full video and auditory sensing and recording equipment (including night and thermal filtering), a veritable hacker’s wet dream of phone and internet taps and signal boosters, and even some more exotic technology still in the experimental phase. Though budgets for life-saving drugs and new beds for hospitals lagged, for this, it seemed, there was always enough money.

The Sky Ridge Medical Center was a large hospital complex, with sprawling, concrete parking lots that enveloped and extended, as construction is wont to in the wide open West, in every direction. The van had been parked on the edge of one of these for most of the day without arousing the slightest suspicion in passerby. An extralegal dump of the hospital’s security records had turned up only one item of note. The hospital’s security coordinator, Gerald Clarke, had put in a recent request for new CCTV cameras to replace some that were malfunctioning on the north side of the complex. He had written in the comments section of the online requisition form that the cameras had been recording spottily, showing nothing but static for brief intervals, usually in the evenings.

At 3:00 an unusually observant person would have noticed the van moving from one parking lot to another, more northern one. The van’s inhabitants spent the rest of the day waiting.

By 7:00 most of the windows marking doctor’s offices were dark, only a few stubborn holdouts remained lit. Of these only one was on the ground floor of the hospital. At about 7:30 the van’s occupants, patched into the hospital’s security network, noted a malicious subroutine, cleverly concealed as a recurring calendar appointment, shut down the optics and audio of all the cameras on the north side of the building. Before they could repair the intrusion into the hospital’s computer network, two people came walking through the parking lot from the direction of nearby I-25.

Both people wore heavy jackets and scarves, and the agent manning the front seat of the van noticed a wisp of blond underneath the smaller figure’s winter hat. He quietly signaled his comrades, still puzzling over the hospital computer infection, and they reluctantly joined him at the front where they could see the pair as they made their way through the windblown parking lot to the north entrance. The door soon opened, spilling sterile light onto the coal black pavement, and the van’s occupants could, by zooming their camera lenses, make out a surgeon in a white coat with short, dark hair holding the door open and smiling broadly. The smile froze in time on the screens inside the van, as the image was captured for analysis against a citizen database. The door closed, and the van’s occupants scrambled to get audio within the facility.

But the computer hack had taken down the internal recording devices on this side of the hospital as well. For almost an hour the frustrated would-be spies tried every workaround and digital trick to undermine the crafty electronic interloper, but to no avail. The van’s occupants were interrupted in their frantic coding by the hospital’s north door, as it once again cast a clean shaft of light onto the pavement. The doctor reappeared, this time clad in a winter jacket, and still smiling. Behind him came the other two, likewise armed for the cold.

The trio made their way to a solitary car, a decade old model, and waited patiently as the doctor fumbled for the unlock button on his keys. All three piled in and a moment later the car was rolling towards the parking lot exit. Shortly afterwords the van, too, began to move.

****************************************************

Morales had agreed to drive the Fremonts home with some reluctance. Though Lysandra had convinced him that the recent transportation strike had cut the bus service they needed to get back, John couldn’t help but think something else was behind her unprecedented request. He had agreed because he couldn’t bear to imagine mother and daughter walking for miles through the winter ice in the dark, but also to satisfy his own curiosity and maybe learn something new about the mysterious pair.

The ride to the Fremonts home was animated, with Lysandra continuing the discussion she’d begun in the hospital, Alyssa adding insights incredibly trenchant for a 10 year old, and Morales challenging and asking questions as he drove. The Fremonts lived in a small apartment complex just east of downtown Denver. John, following Lysandra’s directions, took Colfax Avenue through the city, past the state Capitol building and south of the financial district with its soaring arias of steel and glass.

During a brief lull in the conversation Alyssa began picking at the upholstery. “I wouldn’t want to be a doctor here, you drive a crappy car.”

“Aly! That’s impolite.” Her mother was stern, but not because she disagreed with her impudent offspring.

Morales chuckled, “It’s ok, I get paid the standard approved surgeon’s salary.” Lyse could tell Morales was thinking about something else even as he said it.

She probed, “Is that salary enough for someone with a family? Or parents to support?”

“The Health Board calculates it based on an average cost of life index. If surgeons are paid too much then the price of healthcare rises beyond what many people can afford, and the government would have to raise taxes.”

Lysandra directed Morales to turn into a parking lot on the left as she replied. “John, ten years ago there were neurosurgery clinics in every major hospital in the region. Neurosurgeons were one of the highest paid, most respected positions in medicine and somehow even people without tons of money got treated. But nobody studies neurosurgery anymore, it’s just not worth the extra years of schooling. You’re the last neurosurgeon in the whole state. Do you know what that means? Why do you think we have such a shortage of doctors and nurses?” She said her next words slowly, to stress their importance, “Incentives matter, John. If there are no more neurosurgeons it doesn’t matter what they get paid, no one will get treated.”

Morales didn’t answer, just put the car in park. Finally, he responded, “I had a friend who left his job as a heart surgeon for a fundraising role on the governor’s last campaign. He told me in private it paid better. I heard his wife had just got pregnant.”

Lysandra opened the passenger side door and turned to John, “I think you should come inside for some hot chocolate. I’d like to share something with you.”

He hesitated for a moment, Alyssa, her winter hat already on, looked at him unnervingly from the back seat, and the open passenger door let in cold air. Morales turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt.

Across the street a white van pulled into an empty parking space.

****************************************************

The Fremonts’ apartment was modest. It had no art on the walls, and its small living room, leading off to a tiny kitchen around the corner, was tidily put together. The only thing that gave it any unique character, in fact, was the fully stocked bookshelf on the far wall. It was large to the point of being ostentatious, and completely at odds with the more unassuming furniture that made up the balance of the room.

Morales could make out a few of the larger titles from the doorway; their spines loudly proclaimed dissertations on and defenses of “liberty,” “economics,” and “rights.” Some of the authors he recognized, others were more obscure. There were some German sounding names, and, how would you even pronounce that? Anne? he guessed while tilting his head sideways at one of the more ponderous looking tomes on the top shelf. Something about Greek mythology. He smiled. Well, you certainly couldn’t say the Fremonts were unread.

Lysandra returned from the kitchen with two steaming mugs. “You can sit if you like.” Morales, thanking her, took one of the mugs and lowered himself onto the couch. Alyssa had retreated to her bedroom to do homework, leaving the two adults to discuss the type of boring things adults are concerned with. Lysandra sat across from John and set her mug on the coffee table.

“John, what’s your opinion on the country?”

He smiled helplessly at the overly broad question, one of Lyse’s hallmarks, before he realized she expected an answer. “I…” his first flippant response died as he took in the earnestness of her gaze. Morales paused, and gave the issue some serious thought as he took a hesitant sip of the still scalding hot chocolate. “I don’t know that I have much of an opinion on it, I mean, I certainly didn’t up until a few weeks ago.” He went on as Lysandra suppressed a smile behind her cocoa mug, “It’s definitely got issues, it’s not perfect.” Morales paused again, reflecting, “I suppose I’m unhappy with it, on the whole.”

“And do you think it’s headed in the right direction, on the whole?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you see things getting better or worse if the country continues in the direction it is going?”

“Well, all these shortages and the economic crisis and emergency powers are only supposed to be temporary…” his voice trailed off in an audible ellipses. The “but” was left unsaid.

“No one really believes they will be.” Lysandra finished for him.

John Morales nodded.

“And what about the healthcare system?”

“I think you know I agree that it’s broken, and I’d like to help you fix it.”

Her eyebrows shot up, “Oh? And how do you propose to do that?”

Morales was, once again, caught off guard. “Well, I thought–I mean, you’re always talking about it; haven’t you got some ideas? Isn’t that why you brought me up here?”

Lyse smiled chimerically, “What are your ideas John?”

“Honestly? I hadn’t–” he saw the look on her face and concluded, deflatedly, “I thought about maybe starting a political advocacy group; I could raise some money for a mailing and advertising campaign and then try some lobbying at the federal level.” Isn’t that how things get done?

“Several such groups already exist. Why would you succeed where they have failed?”

The surgeon felt a flicker of annoyance. “Are you trying to tell me it’s not possible? To just give up?”

The woman across the coffee table seemed not to hear the question. “John, as a doctor, would you try to treat post-surgical epileptic seizures by prescribing ephedrine?”

Morales gave her a quizzical glance before replying, “No, that wouldn’t help at all, it might even cause harm. I would prescribe phenytoin sodium instead.”

Lysandra continued, “What if it wasn’t that easy, and you didn’t know that phenytoin was the most effective anticonvulsant? Would you continue prescribing ephedrine, knowing it wasn’t effective?”

He leaned back into the couch, and took another sip of hot chocolate. “No, that’d be against the medical code of ethics. I’d have to turn to research and evidence to find an effective medicine like phenytoin.”

“So tell me,” the woman across the coffee table concluded, “what evidence do you have that a strategy of political advocacy will bring about positive, structural change to the healthcare system? What evidence do you have that working within the system works?”

Morales was taken aback, then chuckled at an errant thought; at its very implausibility, “Are you suggesting violent revolution, then?”

Lyse shook her head earnestly, “Not violent, no, those rarely work out. I’m talking about a different kind of revolution. It’s still dangerous, but-” she paused, as if remembering something.

For the first time since he’d met her 2 months before, John sensed that Lysandra was nervous. She had been fidgeting unconsciously throughout the conversation, her fingers tapping the side of the mug she held in her hands. She bit her lip. Morales was, now more than ever, exceedingly curious.

Lysandra finally set her mug down and stood up. “John, can I tell you a story?” The doctor nodded. She stepped to the other end of the little room, then turned to regard him with an odd expression, one corner of her mouth drawn upwards and her eyebrows downwards, as if not quite sure what to do with this neurosurgeon in her living room. The look passed and she spoke. “I told you my husband, Mark, died several years ago, but I never told you how.”

The angular woman seemed, for a split second, almost vulnerable, and she reached her hand out half-unconsciously to rest it against the bookshelf. She went on, her voice even, “Mark didn’t die in some accident, or of an incurable disease, or anything like that; he was murdered.”

Morales sat up a little straighter.

“He only wanted to help people, and for that, he was killed.” The words didn’t sound as bitter as they could have; it had been a while. “John, how familiar are you with private doctors’ cooperatives?”

“I know they’re illegal, and highly dangerous.”

Lysandra smiled sadly, “Only to those who run them.” Morales raised an eyebrow and she explained, “10 years ago, when the government really started tightening controls on medicine, my husband started the first doctors’ cooperative.

“It was a very low-key thing at first. He started simply by doing some pro-bono diagnoses for a couple close friends and family, really more consulting work than healthcare. Once the Patient Care Laws went into effect many people could no longer get appointments for the type of minor diagnoses, and prescriptions that Mark had been doing, and that were no longer covered under government health insurance. So friends of friends also started stopping by. And some of these started paying him for the favor. Sometimes in gift cards, or home-brewed beer, or even silver coins, before those were all bought up by the Treasury.

“Pretty soon Mark had more ‘patients’ than he could handle outside of work hours. He couldn’t simply turn them away, as the hospitals and big medical practices were doing; these were people he knew and cared about, and I couldn’t help him as much as he needed since I was still completing my residency.” Morales started slightly at this. Lysandra continued, “So he brought on a partner.”

“Mark had a close friend in his practice who shared his, uh, political ideals, and managed to convince him to start doing the same under the table work. Together, they managed to help all the people that had been overwhelming Mark. But then the law changed again.

“The Patient Care Laws weren’t doing what they were supposed to; the cost to the government of the universally guaranteed medical care kept going up. They had to do something or risk insolvency of the whole system. That’s when they passed the pay caps. I think they called it the Medical Pay Rationalization Act. It was supposed to happen gradually, but many states implemented it within the year, to try and prop up their failing budgets.

“A lot of doctors we knew just quit. A lot of others were stuck with student debt and mortgages they suddenly couldn’t afford, and kids they couldn’t put through college. More than a few turned to outside work to supplement their income.

“Mark mentioned his little side project to a couple of them; he didn’t make much from it, but it did help. Several joined him, bringing their own patients and networks. Eventually there were dozens of doctors working in this ad-hoc organization treating people under the table. It got so big they rented a temporary office space to handle some of the patients during the daytime hours.

“But at that size it was unwieldy, and it was no longer just close friends and relatives stopping by. Now we had friends of friends, and friends of friends of relatives being referred, and it was bound to get out sometime that there was a secret underground doctor’s co-op treating people who couldn’t get care in the official government system.

“And it did get out. But we didn’t think-” Here she paused, and seemed to lean more heavily on the bookshelf at her side. She swallowed and continued, “We just didn’t know how the government would react.

“There was a raid. We still don’t know who reported the co-op to the Health Board, but we know the result. They came in the evening; Mark was just starting his shift at the rented office after finishing up at his day job clinic. The Health Board sent two full SWAT teams, blew down the door and charged in guns drawn, as if they were dealing with hardened, dangerous criminals.

“Mark was sitting at the front desk, doing some accounting paperwork before his first client. When the door blew open he stood up; instinctively, or out of fear, I don’t know, and some government agent thought that was threatening behavior and shot him 3 times in the chest.” There was no hint of stress in her voice at the last, and her eyes calmly met John’s. It was as if, having already made the decision to share it, relating the moment of her husband’s death was no more taxing than commenting on the weather to a recent acquaintance. But her hand never left the bookshelf.

“A lot of things happened after that. Many of the doctors were arrested and fined, there was an official investigation into the shooting that found the agent’s ‘use of force was justified,’ and,” she took a breath, “the idea of an escape was first discussed.

“Mark’s friend, the one he first brought into the co-op, had some pretty radical ideas. He wanted to kill the man who’d shot Mark, he wanted to sue the federal government, he wanted to convince the state to secede. One of his ideas was to start our own hidden society, so something like this could never happen again. It was a crazy idea, but he was passionate about it, and argued it eloquently. He began to win over some other doctors. And me.

“We later found the reason for his persuasive eloquence was that he’d been visited, not long after the…raid, by someone who was already living in such a place, and who wanted us to join them. When we learned that this secret group already existed to a degree, it didn’t take much more convincing for a lot of us to sign on.

“And that’s where we went and helped to create. What you jokingly called a ‘Shangri La’ the other night actually exists.”

Morales was not convinced, and his skepticism was plain in the downturn of his eyebrows.

“John, I want to take you to Shangri La” she added.

“But that’s…” he couldn’t think of a better word for it, “a bit extreme.”

Lysandra frowned, “This country is falling apart, can’t you see that? We have ‘Patient Care Laws’ that were created to prevent patients from getting care. We’ve been in an ‘economic crisis’ for over a decade. There are fewer doctors, fewer entrepreneurs, and fewer jobs. The only thing there’s more of is government bureaucrats. And that’s just not sustainable. I mean, the snow doesn’t even get shoveled anymore!” Lysandra was unusually animated, waving her arms to the streets outside the window to make her point. She calmed down. “And things are getting worse.”

Her voice was hushed, but insistent, “The government has power over almost every aspect of our lives, and it’s been growing for years. The government can now control our medical procedures, for our own good, censor the Internet, for our own good, confiscate our property, for our own good, regulate food prices, for our own good, limit where we work, for our own good, track our every movement, for our own good. How far away do you think we are, really, from political dissidents and undesirables being arrested and ‘disappeared,’ all in the name of some common good?”

Morales was still doubtful, “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic? People predict apocalypse and tyranny all the time but it never actually happens.”

“Except when it does,” Lysandra was quick to counter. “People who predict doom and gloom are pariahs, until they’re right. And there are numerous times through history when they’ve been right. Just look at Wiemar Germany or the Roman Republic. John, there is plenty of evidence that this society is on a quickly accelerating path to government control and terror, even if you won’t admit it.”

Morales felt a bit of color flush to his cheeks, and he stood up from the couch, bringing his gaze level with hers. “Oh? Then why me? Why come out here to try and ‘save’ me? Was I just the most crucial domino? Will my loss hasten the demise of this society you hate so much? ‘The last neurosurgeon in the whole state?’ ” He repeated her earlier words, making air quotes with his fingers.

Instead of responding she turned to her bookshelf and, after a quick search, pulled something from it. Crossing the small room she presented it to John for inspection. It was battered and fairly old, dated, in fact, the year of his graduation from Harvard undergrad, but he recognized it immediately. The byline on the red and gray cover of The American Journal of Ethics in Medicine (which had since ceased publication) in the top right corner read, “The Purpose of Medicine, by John Morales.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise. Belatedly, he noticed the smattering of medical textbooks among the more numerous philosophical and economic volumes on her bookshelf. Lyse answered, “Because I read this.”

She paged through it, came at last to the place she wanted, and held it up so John could see. There, underlined in a thick, blue pen, was the conclusion of his piece. “A doctor’s position necessitates a special focus on the politics and, more importantly, the underlying philosophy of the healthcare system he labors in. If that system becomes inimical to individual rights, if it encroaches upon the freedom of the patient to choose the level of care he thinks best for him, and the liberty of the medical professional to practice according to the dictates of his conscience, and to be compensated fairly for his efforts and expertise, then a doctor must, if he truly wishes to be a guardian of health, seek to alter and reform that system. Of course, this means the doctor must also take a stand; he cannot sit on the fence regarding his ethical and philosophical beliefs. But then again, who can?”

John was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how close Lysandra stood to him, of her measured breathing as she searched his face, and of the curved line of her hair, as it framed her eyes. He broke her gaze with difficulty.

“You studied medicine?”

“Yes.”

“So what are you now? Some glorified headhunter? Instead of trying to recruit people for a job you’re recruiting them for a whole society?”

Some mirth returned to her eyes. “Yes.” She carefully returned the old copy of the Journal to its place on her bookshelf. “We thought it made sense for each of us to be responsible for people in our unique areas of expertise.”

“We?”

“Surely you don’t think a whole society has only one headhunter?”

John was, if not yet convinced, beginning to consider the barest hint of a possibility that everything Lysandra Fremont had said was true. A secret, hidden civilization? It would seem laughable but for the stubborn peculiarities that he still could not explain away: the mother and daughter’s complete invisibility to a wide array of government databases, their belief in things that nobody articulated in public anymore, and the single, hard gold coin he still had from their first visit. Suddenly he was full of questions, “And just where is this society? How big is it? What kind of governm-”

Lyse held up her hand and interrupted, “John, I realize the importance of an informed decision when it comes to something like this, but you have to understand, for safety’s sake there are just some things I can’t share with you yet.”

Finally, one last question bubbled to the surface of John Morales’ brain, one of supreme importance, “But what about Alyssa? Does your ‘Shangri La’ have the necessary equipment for me to continue my tests on her?”

Lysandra froze. Her eyes darted to Alyssa’s bedroom door, and she seemed to move them back to John’s face only with a supreme effort. She took a deep breath, “John, I was never trying to save her; I was trying to save you.”

He felt a sudden, tickling sense of foreboding. “What do you mean?” His eyes were narrowed in suspicion.

The admission, when it came, was blunt and matter-of-fact, “Alyssa has no neurological illness, but up until recently you did.”

The anger filled his stomach with warmth, he could feel his jaw involuntarily clenching. His knuckles, protruding roughly from the fists at his side, were blanched white. “You lied to me.” It wasn’t a question.

The hurt in her eyes perfectly mirrored the rage in his. “Please understand John, I had to for-”

“For my own good?” His sarcasm cut her off. “How dare you lecture me on morality.” His voice was under control, but just barely, as he backed away from her. He opened the door, turning around just long enough for a final, bitter broadside, “Oh, and that essay of mine? Where everything is clear, and black and white, and easy? I grew out of that stuff after college, maybe you should, too!” The door slammed behind him, strong enough to shake the books across the room.

****************************************************

John drove aimlessly, angrily. He found himself downtown, amid tall skyscrapers still bravely proclaiming their neon devotion to holy Commerce. He stopped at a red light and looked dully through his window. The news ticker on one of the financial buildings scrolled ponderously; the crimson light from its updates spilled across the snow on the sidewalks, even this late in the evening. “…’Gang of Five’ senators indicted in sex scandal, forced to resign…Major news networks to see third government bailout…President orders state automobile firms to increase hiring…Prescription drug shortage ‘only temporary’ says Health Board Director…” Morales looked away.

He didn’t notice the white van stopped 2 cars behind him in traffic.

Schulman agreed to sit down with AGL and answer some of our questions.

1. Why did you start [your film company] Jesulu Productions and how did you realize there was a market need?

Jesulu Productions is my one-man personal production company. I initially started Jesulu Productions to produce a film adaptation of my 2002 novel, Escape From Heaven, and that production is still in the pipeline for a tentative release toward the end of 2014. But since it was slow getting that production going I first produced Lady Magdalene’s and am now in pre-production on Alongside Night. Additional productions in the pipeline are listed on the website.

2. Describe the company and what you do a little. How do you get the word out? Is it your primary job or do you do other work?

As author of a dozen books, and a columnist at Rational Review, I still have interest in both fiction and non-fiction writing intended to be read; but the bulk of my time these days is focused on writing, producing, and directing movies, again, with Alongside Night as my current film project.

3. I assume you consider yourself a libertarian politically, what inspired you to become one?

I’d say my first major libertarian influence were the books and stories of Robert A. Heinlein, but I was also influenced in that direction by books like 1984 and Brave New World. Later on, by Ayn Rand. By the time I got to college in fall 1971 I was calling myself a libertarian and started a campus libertarian group; soon after that I met up with other libertarians in New York City, primary among them Samuel Edward Konkin III (who took me to meet Murray Rothbard), David Friedman, and in 1972 I met Robert LeFevre at a libertarian conference. Reading Ayn Rand (and a long phone conversation with her in August 1973) during these early years was also important to the development of my thinking. These were my early inspirations and influences.

4. As a writer, how do you get your ideas? Are there any other artists or authors who have influenced/inspired you?

Often enough I get my ideas in the middle of an argument, when I present a thought experiment or counterfactual and realize it would make a good story. Sometimes story ideas come to me, almost fully written, from dreams I’ve had. As Robert Heinlein pointed out to me, a writer’s influences are every single word he’s ever read or seen on stage or on a screen. But I’m happy to acknowledge Robert Heinlein, Ayn Rand, C.S. Lewis, J.D. Salinger, George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Mark Twain, John Steinbeck, Anthony Burgess, and Charles Dickens as particularly influential, closely followed by several hundred other writers. Then there are those writers who are roughly my contemporaries and friends, including Brad Linaweaver, L. Neil Smith, Victor Koman, and a narrow generation older than me, Robert Anton Wilson and Robert Shea, Ray Bradbury, Colin Wilson, Jerry Pournelle and Larry Niven, Philip K. Dick, Rod Serling, Arthur Hailey, Victor Koman, W.P. Kinsella, Ken Grimwood, Harlan Ellison, Robert Silverberg, to name a few.

5. What is your personal philosophy on art/storytelling?

I believe in the dialectic of creating tension then releasing it, whether it’s suspense leading to a gasp, or a set up leading to a laugh. I think the art of storytelling — which is what I do in different media — works best when we enthrall and entertain, first, then inspire and uplift the human spirit, helping those who partake of our stories to become the best version of themselves.

6. Many in the liberty movement seek to promote their philosophy through activism and academia, why do you think art and literature should be included in that mix?

Literature and drama is how abstract ideas are made real in people’s minds and attach themselves to the soul and heart. Because a storyteller needs to make the storytelling convincing storytelling works best when it finds realities people can relate to, and that puts a discipline on the storyteller to ground abstract ideas in human experience. Ideology that can’t find its common humanity makes for dull stories and unconvincing plots, and this acts both as a filter to keep out dogmas that don’t work well in the real world and makes popular ideas that strike universal chords.

7. Do you have any favorite piece of art, literature, film etc. that promotes libertarian ideals?

In classic novels, Atlas Shrugged, The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, Brave New World, 1984; more contemporary, The Probability Broach by L. Neil Smith, Moon of Ice by Brad Linaweaver, Wilson and Shea’s Illuminatus! trilogy, Linaweaver and Hastings’ Anarquia. TV: The classic 60′s British TV series, The Prisoner, Firefly, Jericho, often episodes of the original Star Trek; in movies: Star Wars, A Clockwork Orange, The Matrix, Roman Holiday, The Patriot, Death Wish, Thank You for Smoking, Joe Somebody, The Manchurian Candidate, Topaz, The Adjustment Bureau, Alien Nation, Protocol, Wag the Dog, Brazil, Duck Soup, Shadow on the Land, Deacons for Defense, The Terminal, Minority Report, Rollerball, National Treasure, Pleasantville, The Truman Show, Demolition Man, The Net, Conspiracy Theory, The Parallax View — to name a few!

8. What would be your advice for aspiring artists who share your love of liberty?

You must be a visionary who can entertain.

9. Could you describe your creative process? How do you go from nothing to one of your excellent stories, for instance?

You work backwards, starting with what point you want to make, where it is you want to end up, then drawing out, logically, what needs to happen to get there and who must do it.

10. Did you have any formal training as a writer?

I learned to read before I have memory of it, because my mother read to me, then there were comic books. Then I learned to write by reading what I loved over and over, then doing my own writing, over and over, until I learned my craft.

Writing requires, diligence, patience, perseverance, meticulous attention to detail, always remembering that you’re trying to communicate so make it as easy as humanly possible on the person you’re trying to communicate with, and one more thing: never take seriously technical suggestions from amateurs, nor advice from professional competitors. But also understand that while you’re still an amateur you do need the advice and judgment of professionals, so finding ones you can trust not to diminish you out of jealousy is a hard job.

11. How can those interested in promoting liberty cultivate and inspire artists and other creatives within the movement?

If you are a person of means and can invest in distributing, producing, and promoting those libertarians who produce the works of art you value, then do so. It will be the best investment you can make.

Check out Schulman’s website, and enjoy some video of Nick Gillespie, from Reason.TV, talking with Neil at Freedom Fest, below:

From a CBS Las Vegas piece on the Utah artist:

“For a long time I didn’t know if I wanted to paint this picture, because I worried it might be too controversial,” McNaughton explains in a voice over. “(T)his man (on the park bench) represents every man, woman, and child who is an American… he hopes to find the American dream of happiness and prosperity.

“But now because of unconstitutional acts imposed on the American people by our government we stand on the precipice of disaster”

The painting he is referring to is the first of a pair, and it is called “The Forgotten Man” (alluding, perhaps, to the Amity Schlaes book of the same name, a free market history of the Great Depression).  You can see it below, or in more detail at McNaughton’s website.

The joy, of course, is in the little details in the painting; the copy of the Constitution that Obama’s standing on, the placement and expression of each of the presidents. It’s a painting you could get meaning out of for hours.

But don’t spend too many hours looking, because McNaughton has come out with a second painting, labelled, “Wake up America” which is even more awesomely, blatantly Tea Party.  Here IT is, below, or viewable in detail on McNaughton’s website.

I love Ben Bernanke, Tim Giethner and the cadre of shady dictators “backing” Obama here.  Is the rooster a reference to “Morning in America?”

What do you think dear readers?  Any more examples of liberty in paintings or other fine art?  How many of you visit the excellent online storefront of Quent Cordair for your fix of Objectivist inspired fine art?

Update:

McNaughton has recently released a third painting, called “One Nation Under Socialism.”  See it below, or at the artist’s website.

There is no shortage of novels devoted to the outdoors whose stories appeal to backpackers, campers and hikers (the granola sort, we call them in Colorado). It takes only a minute’s thought to conjure up such titles as Into the Wild, Hatchet, or Hemingway’s famous short story, Big Two-Hearted River. Many of these seriously and studiously explore nature as a vast healing power, a thunderous force not to be trifled with, or a dangerous coming of age challenge.

Rare are those stories that depict nature with a lighthearted chuckle, to be respected, sure, but also to be enjoyed by people who know what they’re doing in the Great Outdoors. Rarer still is such a story written from a free market, libertarian perspective. Luckily, author J.D. Tuccille has taken it upon himself to rectify that deficit with his new novel, High Desert Barbecue.

Scott and his friend Rollo are both renegades, but both in their own unique, quirky ways. While Scott commits minor acts of vandalism against police vehicles, and willfully ignores building codes when renovating his house, Rollo eschews civilization altogether, living alone for months at a time in the dusty Arizona wilderness (the eponymous High Desert).

When Rollo, never friendly with the state Forest Service, is kicked out of his squatter’s cabin by rangers, he escapes to the relative safety of Scott’s home in Flagstaff. When he is then blamed by government officials for a large wildfire ravaging the western state, he drags Scott and his girlfriend Lani into a dangerous chase that will pit them against Forest Service rangers, wacko environmentalists and a plot that could threaten the lives of hundreds of thousands of people.

J.D. Tuccille’s first novel, High Desert Barbecue, is a great read. Filled with likable characters, tons of humor, and a nice sprinkling of libertarianism throughout, its breezy style makes it an easy story to pick up and get into.

Tuccille’s writing is fast and fun, and he manages to incorporate a libertarian perspective without becoming pedantic or preachy, instead weaving it deftly into the storyline. For instance, when Scott first meets his next door neighbor and future girlfriend, Lani, he has just woken her up with some loud construction work.

“You’re renovating?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t see a permit posted.”

“I don’t have one.”

“You may not know, but the city requires–”

The man shook his head and interrupted.

“I know, but I don’t care. The city doesn’t own this house. I do. The mayor doesn’t have to ask my permission to make city hall even uglier than it already is, and I’m not gonna ask his permission to install some cabinets and an electric oven that won’t burn my dinner.”

Lani stood at the doorstep with her mouth open. Then she smiled.

“You don’t like being told what to do, do you?”

I did have a couple gripes with High Desert Barbecue. While Tuccille’s main characters are well fleshed out and believable (if excessively comedic) the baddies are a little too one dimensional, their motives not as developed or well explained. Arch enemy (and chief ranger) Martin Van Kamp is made into something resembling a cartoon. While an element of the ridiculous can certainly add to the comedy in a fun novel like this, (and is used to great effect by Tuccille elsewhere in the story) here it detracts from the level of danger we feel the heroes to be in which in turn undermines some of the tension and conflict that propel the plot.

Tuccille also makes the odd decision to break up the book into incredibly small chapters (many no longer than a page). While breaks come at logical times, having to page through to the next chapter after only a short couple paragraphs interrupts the flow unnecessarily.

Happily the rest of the story flows so well that it weathers these interruptions with ease.  The plot is fun and tight, the philosophy not overwhelming, the local flavor excellent for anyone who enjoys hiking and the west, and the ending satisfying.

In all, Barbecue is an easy book to recommend and a fast read for anyone interested in libertarianism, the outdoors, or both.

The PDF version (157 pages) can be bought on Lulu for $2.99 and a print version found on Amazon for $8.63.  You can also visit the author’s website at http://www.tuccille.com/.

1. Why did you start Big Head Press and how did you realize there was a market need?

Big Head Press was started in order to publish The Probability Broach: The Graphic Novel, which was the GN-adaptation of L. Neil Smith’s first novel, which has sold something close to 60,000 copies since it was published, in three editions.

The market need — or more directly, the cultural need — we saw was for more stories promoting individualism and rationality versus statism and mysticism, and after The Probability Broach we sought more stories from various writers along these lines.

2. Describe the company and what you do a little.  How do you get the word out? Is it your primary job or do you do other work?

Big Head Press is my brother Frank, who handles the money and contracts and runs the website, and I, who get graphic stories created and formatted for print or e-publication. So I write, draw, edit (the other artists and writers), letter, and generally manage all aspects of production. And of course, there are our free-lancers, most of whom are also creator-owners of the works.

3. I assume you consider yourself a libertarian politically, what inspired you to become one?

My experiences in high school got me started questioning authority — then I stumbled across Ayn Rand my freshman year in college, went through a year with no sense of humor, then grew out of that as I met some libertarians at my second college (UT-Austin) and my reading world spread to include Rothbard and Von Mises as well as the Friedmans and R.A. Wilson, and Robert Heinlein.  Lately I’ve been preferring the political label “voluntaryist” but will generally accept the label “libertarian” with the proviso that I’m not a party member nor do I consider electoral politics a viable path to anything.

4. As an artist, how do you get your ideas?  Are there any other artists who have influenced/inspired you?

Ideas come to me from everywhere — from life, from art, from the cultural soup in which we all wade about. Everyone has ideas — what’s important is what one does with them. Artists who have inspired me range from Thomas Nast and Jeff MacNelly through Dan DeCarlo (principal Archie comics artist in the 60s-80s) and Jack Davis (Mad Magazine) to Jack Kirby, John Romita, and Dave Gibbons. There are many others that I appreciate but I think those are the ones that most inform my own styles.

5. What is your personal philosophy on art?

Art is a communication of both ideas and mood, or feeling, from the artist to his audience, whoever that might be. Art “works” when it delivers the ideas and moods intended by the artist. Art can consist words or images or both, and words and images may or may not be art. The mood/feeling component is, I think what sets art apart from other types of communication.

6. Many in the liberty movement seek to promote their philosophy through activism and academia, why do you think art should be included in that mix?

Storytelling is a form of art and it is also the primary medium through which our cultural assumptions about ethics, economics, and justice are transmitted to and reinforced among the broader public. Libertarianism needs champions in this field, and we’ve had some, but we need more.

7. Do you have any favorite piece of art, literature, film etc. that promotes libertarian ideals?

Off-hand I can think of three novels: The Moon Is A Harsh Mistress by Robert Heinlein, And Then There Were None (a short story, actually) by Eric Frank Russell, and The Probability Broach by L. Neil Smith.  I also like Alongside Night by J. Neil Schulman and hope he manages to get that made into a feature film.

8. What would be your advice for aspiring artists who share your love of liberty?

Make friends with some rich people, acquire a rich relative, or marry someone going to work in a high-paying field who can support your sorry ass while you build your career. Because otherwise you’ll be working in retail or some low-paying service industry half your waking hours and doing art the other half, and that’s a rough way to live.

9. Could you describe your creative process?  How do you go from nothing to one of your excellent strips, for instance?

It’s really only with Quantum Vibe that I start from nothing. Sandy Sandfort develops the short stories for Escape From Terra which I adapt to comic-script form so artists Lee Oaks or Leila Del Duca can draw them. With my graphic novels I worked with scripts from L. Neil Smith or Stephen Grant.

Quantum Vibe is a story I’ve been developing for a long time, which grew out of an idea I had for a MMOG (massively multiplayer on-line game) which I had during a 6-month period of unemployment after I was laid off from Interplay Productions in 2000. After I decided to walk away from games and go back to comics, this game idea became the setting for a story involving a scientist living 500 years in the future who comes up with a new idea that changes the course of human history — and I don’t want to give away too much right now by explaining what that is.

I’ve been baking this idea slowly over the past decade, making various changes and additions, until now the viewpoint character became the scientist’s young assistant, and a dozen other important characters have been dreamed up and primed for their roles.  While the over-all arc of the story is already set, many of the details are still being dreamed up as I go along. From time to time an idea for a particular scene or a new character name will come to me while I’m doing something else, like driving to a convention or cooking lunch. It’s a continuing process.

Now, with that in the background, my regular production goes something like this:

Each week, I write script for a week’s worth of strips, nailing down the dialog, movements, and description of settings, following the general arc which is mostly in my head. Then I start in Photoshop by pasting-in the dialog for each panel using a “Lint McCree International” font I purchased on-line. This gets me started thinking about each panel layout and I start drawing using my WACOM tablet — first with a rough drawing of the page to place and arrange everything, then “inking” in a layer over the pencils to lay down the lines. Then I had the page to my assistant, who is also my son Zeke Bieser, who adds a layer of grey-tones underneath the lines. (At least we do this most of the time, except when his workload at the junior-college he attends doesn’t overwhelm him. In those cases I do the grey-tones myself.)

Then I “finish” the strips in Illustrator, where I build the word-balloons behind the dialog lettering, add some special effects where needed, and output to jpeg files for the web page or to pdf files for printing. When we get fully geared-up for e-publishing this will change my routine just a bit.

10. Did you have any formal training as an artist?

Before taking any training I drew political cartoons and caricatures, but then I took classical art classes at the University of Texas at Austin, and commercial art classes at Austin Community College. I got some value from both but I think I could have done just as well getting my classical training at ACC as well. They have, or had, a great program.

11. How can those interested in promoting liberty cultivate and inspire artists and other creatives within the movement?

In the short term, buy buying books, films, and other art of quality promoting libertarianism. This feeds the creators. If your library is full, buy copies for gifts to friends, relatives and libraries. Beyond that, I’d love to see someday some sort of foundation geared towards promoting young artists with good potential (the Libertarian Futurist Society attempts this with science-fiction writers although they are woefully under-funded), and a marketing genius or two to help those of us working in the trenches already to reach wider audiences.

What are you waiting for? Go check out Big Head Press and their excellent graphic novels.  Hungry for more?  AGL has a list of even more libertarian graphic novels for your reading/viewing pleasure.

Matthew Alexander’s freshman effort, science fiction novel Withur We, is a powerful, and surprisingly nuanced story that manages to be great fun while at the same time illustrating the superiority of Austrian economics and allowing the reader to explore a working anarchocapitalist society.

The lengthy novel (696 pages in the PDF version) tells the story of Alistair Ashley 3nn, a young ex-marine from the planet Aldra, who returns to his hometown greatly changed by his experience in a galactic war to subdue the laissez faire society of Kaldis. Alistair, never one to support the big government designs of the two competing political parties on his home world (the bumbling Voluntaryists and the brutal Realists) returns from the open libraries of Kaldis with a decidedly anarchist bent.

When the Realist party begins seizing power and setting Aldra on the road to a tyrannical dictatorship, Alistair joins a growing rebellion and helps touch off a planet-wide civil war.

Alexander combines an eminently readable writing style with exposition, for instance, on planetary and astral science, that adds to and fits within the narrative rather than taking the reader from it. Included also is a fair dosage of Austrian economics and anarchocapitalist theory, presented in such a way that the reader is able to grasp key concepts intuitively.

For example, in one scene Alistair, in an attempt to jump-start his anarchist society, seeks to convince the chief of a primitive tribe on the prison planet of Srillium to accept his private arbitration services.

Shaking his head, and looking the chief in the eye, Alistair said, “I am not joining a tribe. I am remaining a free man with no tribe. I am running a business. You are from Earth?”

The chief nodded. “Laos.”

“When you wished to buy a meal on Earth, you went to someone who made one and you gave him money for it. He did not have to join your nation or your tribe or anything at all, you just made an exchange. He gave you food; you gave him money. I am offering something similar. I offer protection and arbitration services. I am not joining the tribe, I am offering services.”

Particularly enjoyable are the nuanced nature of Alexander’s characters. Alistair isn’t some morally perfect superman, he has doubts and failures (quite a lot of them, actually), and the bad guys seem to be acting out of genuine conviction, not some innate evilness (save one). This is a book that presents the author’s views without beating you over the head with them, and for this reason (not to mention the clear writing and rip-roaring sci-fi plot) it’s an incredibly easy novel to recommend.

Where the the book stumbles a little bit is the very beginning and the very end. It takes some persistence to get through the first couple of chapters, after which the story really picks up speed and leads to a middle portion that was so engrossing it had me staying up late at night to read. Unfortunately Withur We again loses steam towards the end and culminates in a slightly pessimistic, slightly hopeful, but ultimately unsatisfying ending.

It seems to be a novel calling out for a sequel, and we definitely hope Alexander writes one.

Buy the book on Amazon here.

Get the free PDF version here and see a trailer for the book here.

It’s that time of year again, and you’ve been tasked with braving the cold, the crowds, and the shopping mall Santas, and returning with the perfect gift for that Ayn Rand quoting, Gadsden Militia flag waving friend/relative/lover/frenemy of yours.

But what do you get someone who already has 3 copies of The Fountainhead, a Colt 1911 and gold coins with Thomas Paine’s face on them?

You’re about to find out!

Because below is AGL’s Libertarian Holiday Gift Guide: a random smattering of some of the best free-market schwag out there.  Put one of these under the tree, and you’re sure to bring a smile of joy to even the grinchiest Milton Friedman fan.

1. Escape From Terra Volume 1 Graphic Novel

We really can’t recommend this story, by Sandy Sandfort, Scott Bieser, and Lee Oaks, enough.  Imagine Star Trek, except without the socialist utopian Federation outlawing money and private property, and with a society of plucky “Belters” living on Ceres and mining the asteroid belt to become fabulously wealthy instead.

When a tax collecter from the totalitarian government of Earth is sent to Ceres to reign in the free market anarchists of the Belt, adventure, hilarity and stateless resistance ensues!

Pick up a copy at Amazon for $12.95.

2. Noble Vision by Gen LaGreca

Noble Vision is a great novel to curl up by a warm fireplace with.  This debut effort follows a brave neurosurgeon as he struggles against an overbearing, socialistic healthcare system.  Your libertarian acquaintance will love LaGreca’s defense of free markets as Doctor Lang tries to save a tragically injured ballerina with his groundbreaking new therapy.

Author Gen LaGreca is an Ayn Rand fan herself, and she presents an appealing sense of life throughout the novel.  If you still need convincing, go read AGL’s review of Noble Vision.

Then, pick up a copy at Amazon for $14.95.

3. A Liberty Maniacs T-shirt

Look classy and spread the message of liberty with one of the many witty, artsy, or straight up pretty shirts designed by artist Dan McCall (check out AGL’s interview with Dan).

Need something that expresses your disgust for the central bank in a pithy yet eye-catching way?  Or better yet shows your support of Murray Rothbard’s economic policies?  Liberty Maniacs has both, and plenty more besides.

Mosey on down and get some pro-freedom gear for that Hayekian in your life.

4. The Castle Movie

This Australian comedy about an eccentric family out to save their ramshackle home from a government land grab is heartwarming and funny.  Man of the house Darryl Kerrigan may have built his “castle” close to the airport, near power lines, and on top of a toxic waste dump, but it’s still his.

Any libertarian or supporter of private property rights will get misty-eyed as Darryl and his family take on the Australian state to defend what’s rightfully theirs.

Check out some highlights from the movie:

Then get the DVD at Amazon for $14.45.

5. 2112 Album by Rush

Featuring such classic songs as “Something for Nothing” and “The Temples of Syrinx,” Rush’s most famous album is also a paen to political freedom and individualism.  The Canadian band explicitly credited “the genius of Ayn Rand,” and were clearly influenced by her novel, Anthem, in the album’s storyline.

Whether your libertarian likes rock or freedom more, this is a great gift to warm his/her earholes.

Buy the whole album on Amazon for $9.49.

Need even more awesome gift ideas?  Check out AGL’s list of libertarian fiction.

Chapter Six: Thomas King

Never doubt what small men will do for great power. –Paolo Bacigalupi

Thomas King had been ten the moment he first decided he wanted to be a bureaucrat. It had not been a conscious decision; he still said he wanted to be an astronaut, but deep down, where it counts, he didn’t. The young boy with the mousy brown hair, his midsection always a little too doughy, wanted to be a bureaucrat when he grew up.

It had happened the day Thomas was awarded the title of Recess Monitor for going a whole month without being tardy once. That recess was one of the least fun half hours the children at Oliver Wendell Holmes Elementary School would ever have to endure. But for Thomas King, it was a blast.

While before no one listened to what he said or did what he told them, now he had authority: he had the power of the teacher to back him up. Say what you would about how the other kids viewed Thomas himself, to the threatened power of the teacher they gave utter deference. And Thomas wielded that power like a sledgehammer, delighting in the control it gave him over his fellow students. He gave demerits, admonished the eight year olds to not run so fast, and outlawed screaming and other “loud voice noises.” He sent Bobby Scott to time out for going down the slide more times than he was allowed to. He gave Ellie Marris a frowny face sticker on her daily report for failing to address him as “Mister King” (like grown ups are called). His rules were arbitrary, capricious, and, in many cases, retroactive. He knew it wasn’t himself the other students were obeying, but he didn’t care. For a short, sweet while he could pretend he had actually earned the fear and respect they showed him.

He was never made Recess Monitor again (his teacher knew better, even though her boyfriend worked at the Office of Compliance for Corporate Regulation) but that didn’t matter. His feelings during that short experience stuck with him, explicitly at first, and then, over time, fading into a general background sentiment. That sentiment, though faded, propelled him into a role as a student proctor in middle school and, later, into a position as a Dormitory Resident Assistant at his boarding school, and a council member on the Student Activities Funding Commission at his university, Yale.

In fact, he applied, and was often accepted into, all those pre-defined leadership roles that adults dole out to young people to allow them to feel as if they are making a difference and are in control within their limited communities. Student Council, Student Senate, The Diversity Board. Never once did he seek to create a position, or start a club or organize an enterprise. Never once did he question the prevailing wisdom or the way things were done. Thomas King took what was given to him by the establishment and he was grateful for it.

Thus it was natural, after graduating, for Thomas to seek a job in the public sector. His faculty advisor on the Student Activities Funding Council, a native of Colorado who had several friends working at the newly created Health Resources Allocation Board, suggested Thomas apply for a job there and promised he would have a rewarding experience as a public servant on the cutting edge of implementing the president’s new healthcare policies. Thomas did so enthusiastically and was soon working his way up through the many layers of Denver’s political class.

He now headed up healthcare resource allocation for all of south Denver’s hospitals and managed care practices. It kept him busy, dealing with the constantly whining doctors and impatient hospital procurement staff, but there were occasional moments of respite, times for him to rest his feet up on his desk and reflect, as he had been doing the last 10 minutes.

He had just returned from an awards ceremony, one of the myriad empty public functions his position required of him. This particular ceremony, presided over by the mayor himself, was to recognize the contributions of the many government employees who had helped out in the recent court case the Health Board had won against the greedy pharmaceutical companies. Thomas himself had testified on the stand about the difficulty his office had in obtaining drugs for hospitals at a fair price, and how the price gouging of Big Pharma, especially during the current healthcare crisis, was antisocial behavior, and not in keeping with the social contract.

The judge had been a sympathetic one, appointed by the current administration. And so, the pharmaceutical companies had been penalized with price controls, and Thomas King had been awarded a plaque and a nice stipend. A week after the ruling, 1,000 people, working at various drug companies, had been laid off. No one present at the awards ceremony had thought to connect the two events.

But Thomas was not thinking about the awards ceremony, as he slowly shifted and recrossed his legs, resting them again on the edge of his desk. He was thinking about John Morales. The doctor had been unsettling the bureaucrat ever since he had refused to help Thomas game the medical appointment system for his friend. Each subsequent visit to that hospital had left him with a vague feeling of hostility from the doctor. It wasn’t something he could immediately put his finger on, but was instead a combination of the looks he sensed Morales giving him out of the corner of his eye, and certain out of place comments the doctor had made in his presence.

“Don’t you think it’s odd that we’ve never had a TV shortage? Even with all those private electronics companies out there?” The doctor had asked, interrupting Thomas during an explanation of his failure, once again, to procure certain rare drugs for the hospital.

“What on earth does that mean? Where did you hear that?” the perturbed public servant had demanded.

“Never mind, it’s not important.” Morales had, in fact, been asked the very same question by Lysandra Fremont the previous night.

Thomas did not like Morales’ newfound (though admittedly furtive) combativeness. He wondered if there was a way to teach the surgeon a lesson short of having him fired. Usually having a doctor fired would not be hard to do; a trumped up charge of him violating his government oath, a meeting with the hospital board to convince them he was exhibiting anti-social behavior and was a threat to the morale of the other medical staff and voila, just one more “retired” medical professional. But Morales was the last certified neurosurgeon on the Front Range, he couldn’t be fired short of some gross violation of the law.

Plus his father was the mayor. That fact was more of a deterrent to Thomas and his nascent plans for demonstrating authority than all the social good that Morales exhibited as a rare and in-demand medical specialist.

An electronic warble interrupted Thomas King’s reverie. The phone in front of him lit up and displayed an incoming call from extension 121, the front desk. His face twisted slightly in annoyance and he considered briefly ignoring the damn thing, but it warbled again insistently, and he snatched up the receiver.

“Yes?” A pause. “She’s here now? Yes, fine. Send her up.”

He replaced the phones’s receiver back in its cradle thoughtfully, pursing his lips. Of course he knew who Shelly Reyes was. Curiosity, and easy access to the myriad government databases on civilians, had led him to John Morales’ file one day a few weeks prior. Morales had registered his current house with one Shelly de la Luz Reyes, though the two didn’t show up as married when Thomas queried the state marriage license database. Thomas knew she worked at the Office of Energy Regulation, so in all likelihood her visit was on business.

Shortly there was a soft knock on his door. “Come in.”

The door opened hesitantly, and a youngish Hispanic woman stepped through. She was a bit on the soft side, just beginning that long slide into sweatpants-wearing middle age that most women are content to undergo. She compensated for this with a low-cut blouse and tighter than normal suit pants. Thomas didn’t mind.

“Hi Shelly,” Thomas began as way of introduction, “Enoch told me you’d be stopping by. I don’t usually get to work with people from Energy, how can I help you?”

“Actually, Mr. King, this isn’t for my department officially. I’ve become concerned recently with a possible violation of the Patient Care Laws. Do you handle those directly?” The only indication Shelly Reyes was bothered by her actions was a slight hesitation when she spoke. It was more of a catch, as if she had something in her throat, that manifested as a minor stress on her first syllable.

“Usually I pass those off to our internal security division, but maybe I can point you in the right direction.” Thomas still had his feet on the desk, and Shelly had not sat down in the chair he had indicated when she walked in.

“It’s something I noticed at the Sky Ridge Medical Center, in the neurosurgery clinic specifically. I heard that’s one of the hospitals you cover?”

Thomas’ feet came off his desk and he leaned forward. This conversation had suddenly gotten interesting.

But you don’t believe that stuff.

You know capitalism, mixed with a political system that protects individual rights, has been the single greatest force for good on the planet, lifting billions out of crushing poverty. You don’t want to read all that bilge about how you’re a bad, bad person for supporting it.

So what is a wayward libertarian to do? Especially when so much of your money is stolen by the government each year that you have very little left over to buy books?

Why, turn to the free stuff on the Internet of course!

Luckily I’ve taken the time to compile a list of the 5 best libertarian novels (in no particular order) that also happen to be free. Gratis. Sin dinero. The low, low cost of nothing. Just for you.

I’ve even included links to where you can download them.

I know, right?

1. Alongside Night by J. Neil Schulman

This prophetic 1979 novel tells of a collapsing United States, plagued by hyperinflation and a weak economy, and of the professor whose offbeat ideas of parallel markets may help save it. It’s a classic, with endorsements from Milton Friedman, Ron Paul and others. It has been single-handedly credited with starting the Agorist movement, and is currently being turned into a movie starring Kevin Sorbo (Hercules, Andromeda).

The fact that it was recently released by J. Neil Schulman as a free PDF online means you should Internet-run, not Internet-walk to Schulman’s website to join the 300,000 other people who have downloaded it so far.

2. Withur We by Matthew Alexander

Matthew Alexander’s debut novel is a rollicking, thought-provoking, inspiring, terrifying sci-fi romp through the colonized worlds of human space. It follows a young ex-marine from the planet Aldra as he returns home to find his world falling under the sway of the despotic Realist party.

What follows is revolution, setbacks, perseverance, and the type of thoughtful science fiction, especially as regards the nature of government, and even the ambiguous value of idealism, that you won’t find in most mainstream novels.

3. Time Will Run Back by Henry Hazlitt

Another classic in the liberty canon, and written by the same author as the quintessential non-fiction, free market primer, Economics in One Lesson.

Hazlitt artfully dramatizes the rediscovery of capitalism by a near future, tyrannical dictatorship. With a dedication to his mentor Ludwig Von Mises, and recently made free to download by the Mises Institute, this is one that you certainly won’t want to miss.

4. And Then There Were None by Eric Frank Russel

And Then There Were None is almost more novella than novel, clocking in at only 40-some pages. It tells the story of a military vessel from the very hierarchical Terran Empire as it arrives to the peaceful human colony of the Gands.

The Terrans want to bring the Gands into their empire, but find themselves frustrated by the free market anarchy on the Gands’ planet, where individual sovereignty is so central that they have coined the term “myob” for “mind your own business.”

5. A Lodging of Wayfaring Men by Paul A. Rosenberg

This hacker-cum-anarchocapitalist novel has been celebrated as an underground bible for how to use the Internet to create a freer society.

The second Agorist piece on this list, Lodging follows several men as they strive to build a freer society using a computer game. By creating a private market, free from taxation, they hope to allow creators and producers to unchain their creative energies and thrive. When the government gets a whiff of this scheme the race is on between the protagonists and the FBI agents tasked with bringing them in for treason.

Bonus!

There you go, 5 totally free, totally excellent libertarian novels.

What’s that you say? That’s not enough, you say?

Fine.

Here’s a bonus libertarian short story about circumventing food prohibition laws:

Lippidleggin’

…you greedy cads.

Interested in EVEN MORE libertarian novels (even if they’re not free)?  Check out AGL’s Libertarian Book List for tons of great fiction.

Update: Commenters here and over at Reddit have suggested a couple additions:

1. The Driver by Garet Garrett over at The Mises Institute website
2. We by Eugene Zamiatin, again, over at Mises
3. Escape From Terra et al.  Free graphic novels with a decidedly AnCap/Libertarian bent over at BigHeadPress.