Non-contradiction
The Theme
"WhoisJohnGalt?"
Thelightwasebbing,andEddieWillerscouldnotdistinguishthebum’sface. Thebumhadsaiditsimply,withoutexpression. Butfromthesunsetfarattheendofthestreet,yellowglintscaughthiseyes,andtheeyeslookedstraightatEddieWillers,mockingandstill—asifthequestionhadbeenaddressedtothecauselessuneasinesswithinhim.
"Whydidyousaythat?"askedEddieWillers,hisvoicetense.
Thebumleanedagainstthesideofthedoorway;awedgeofbrokenglassbehindhimreflectedthemetalyellowofthesky.
"Whydoesitbotheryou?"heasked.
"Itdoesn‘t,"snappedEddieWillers.
Hereachedhastilyintohispocket. Thebumhadstoppedhimandaskedforadime,thenhadgoneontalking,asiftokillthatmomentandpostponetheproblemofthenext. Pleasfordimesweresofrequentinthestreetsthesedaysthatitwasnotnecessarytolistentoexplanations,andhehadnodesiretohearthedetailsofthisbum’sparticulardespair.
"Gogetyourcupofcoffee,"hesaid,handingthedimetotheshadowthathadnoface.
"Thankyou,sir,"saidthevoice,withoutinterest,andthefaceleanedforwardforamoment. Thefacewaswind-browned,cutbylinesofwearinessandcynicalresignation;theeyeswereintelligent.
EddieWillerswalkedon,wonderingwhyhealwaysfeltitatthistimeofday,thissenseofdreadwithoutreason. No,hethought,notdread,there’snothingtofear:justanimmense,diffusedapprehension,withnosourceorobject.
