Orrin Hatch paused on the edge of the bed. His body ached, as it did every morning. His heart ached too.

"I don't know if I can do it anymore," he said quietly to the empty room. His voice sounded weak and reedy.

But he had to do it - for The People. The wonderful, uncomprehending people. How he loved them... despite their blindness, their petty natures, their self-centeredness. Because he loved them, he had to deceive them.

Day after day, Orrin Hatch put on his suit, took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and walked out onto the floor of the Theater of Deceit.

"It's an awesome, terrible machine that we all live in, but it gives us life and sustains us all," he thought.

Some moreso than others...

"The machine must be protected. I must deceive the people to protect the machine. Forgive me."

Orrin Hatch's face transformed and assumed its dramatic mask. The brow slightly furrowed with concern. The mouth slightly pinched with a vague sanctimony. He had long ago lost the uncomfortable sense that came with this calculated rearrangement of his features.

It was show-time.

"The top 1 percent of the so-called wealthy pay 38 percent of all income tax...!"

Hello, world

How are you? I am fine.