If you've read the novel by Ayn Rand, I'm wondering if you remember a reference to the Great Seal of the United States (the one on the back of the dollar bill) being made? This reference most likely would have been made by John Galt. If so, could you please tell me what chapter it was made in? I'd appreciate it.
Been a while since I read it. Is this what you were looking for?http://www.scribd.com/word/download/396647?extension=pdf
PART II - EITHER-OR - X THE SIGN OF THE DOLLAR pp 521-523
They did not stop. Looking straight ahead, he reached absently into his pocket; she felt certain that the movement was involuntary; he produced a package of cigarettes and extended it to her.
She was about to take a cigarette—then, suddenly, she seized his wrist and tore the package out of his hand. It was a plain white package that bore, as single imprint, the sign of the dollar.
"Give me the flashlight!" she ordered, stopping.
He stopped obediently and sent the beam of the flashlight at the package in her hands. She caught a glimpse of his face: he looked a little astonished and very amused.
There was no printing on the package, no trade name, no address, only the dollar sign stamped in gold. The cigarettes bore the same sign.
"Where did you get this?" she asked.
He was smiling. "If you know enough to ask that, Miss Taggart, you should know that I won't answer."
"I know that this stands for something."
"The dollar sign? For a great deal. It stands on the vest of every fat, pig like figure in every cartoon, for the purpose of denoting a crook, a grafter, a scoundrel—as the one sure-fire brand of evil. It stands—as the money of a free country—for achievement, for success, for ability, for man's creative power—and, precisely for these reasons, it is used as a brand of infamy. It stands stamped on the forehead of a man like Hank Rearden, as a mark of damnation. Incidentally, do you know where that sign comes from? It stands for the initials of the United States."
He snapped the flashlight off, but he did not move to go; she could distinguish the hint of his bitter smile.
"Do you know that the United States is the only country in history that has ever used its own monogram as a symbol of depravity? Ask yourself why. Ask yourself how long a country that did that could hope to exist, and whose moral standards have destroyed it. It was the only country in history where wealth was not acquired by looting, but by production, not by force, but by trade, the only country whose money was the symbol of man's right to his own mind, to his work, to his life, to his happiness, to himself. If this is evil, by the present standards of the world, if this is the reason for damning us, then we —we, the dollar chasers and makers—accept it and choose to be damned by that world. We choose to wear the sign of the dollar on our foreheads, proudly, as our badge of nobility—the badge we are willing to live for and, if need be, to die."
He extended his hand for the package. She held it as if her fingers would not let it go, but gave up and placed it on his palm. With deliberate slowness, as if to underscore the meaning of his gesture, he offered her a cigarette. She took it and placed it between her lips.
He took one for himself, struck a match, lighted both, and they walked on.
They walked, over rotting logs that sank without resistance into the shifting ground, through a vast, uncongealed globe of moonlight and coiling mist—with two spots of living fire in their hands and the glow of two small circles to light their faces.
"Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips . . ." she remembered the old man saying to her, the old man who had said that these cigarettes were not made anywhere on earth. "When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind—and it's proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression."
"I wish you'd tell me who makes them," she said, in the tone of a hopeless plea.
He chuckled good-naturedly. "I can tell you this much: they're made by a friend of mine, for sale, but—not being a common carrier —he sells them only to his friends."
"Sell me that package, will you?"
"I don't think you'll be able to afford it, Miss Taggart, but—all right, if you wish."
"How much is it?"
"Five cents?" she repeated, bewildered.
"Five cents—" he said, and added, "in gold."
She stopped, staring at him. "In gold?"
"Yes, Miss Taggart."
"Well, what's your rate of exchange? How much is it in our normal money?"
"There is no rate of exchange, Miss Taggart. No amount of physical—or spiritual—currency, whose sole standard of value is the decree of Mr. Wesley Mouch, will buy these cigarettes."
He reached into his pocket, took out the package and handed it to her. "I'll give them to you, Miss Taggart," he said, "because you've earned them many times over—and because you need them for the same purpose we do."
"To remind us—in moments of discouragement, in the loneliness of exile—of our true homeland, which has always been yours, too, Miss Taggart."
'Thank you," she said. She put the cigarettes in her pocket; he saw that her hand was trembling.
pp 809 - 815 are kind of cool. I could not find "great seal" but 100 references to the sign of the dollar. the word "pyramid" brings up some cool text about the superiority of true capitalism over artificially created feudalism via pyramids.