L.P.D.: Libertarian Police Department >I was shooting heroin and reading “The Fountainhead” in the front seat of my privately owned police cruiser when a call came in. I put a quarter in the radio to activate it. It was the chief.

>“Bad news, detective. We got a situation.”

>“What? Is the mayor trying to ban trans fats again?”

>“Worse. Somebody just stole four hundred and forty-seven million dollars’ worth of bitcoins.”

>The heroin needle practically fell out of my arm. “What kind of monster would do something like that? Bitcoins are the ultimate currency: virtual, anonymous, stateless. They represent true economic freedom, not subject to arbitrary manipulation by any government. Do we have any leads?”

>“Not yet. But mark my words: we’re going to figure out who did this and we’re going to take them down … provided someone pays us a fair market rate to do so.”

>“Easy, chief,” I said. “Any rate the market offers is, by definition, fair.”

>He laughed. “That’s why you’re the best I got, Lisowski. Now you get out there and find those bitcoins.”

>“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m on it.”

>I put a quarter in the siren. Ten minutes later, I was on the scene. It was a normal office building, strangled on all sides by public sidewalks. I hopped over them and went inside.

>“Home Depot™ Presents the Police!®” I said, flashing my badge and my gun and a small picture of Ron Paul. “Nobody move unless you want to!” They didn’t.

>“Now, which one of you punks is going to pay me to investigate this crime?” No one spoke up.

>“Come on,” I said. “Don’t you all understand that the protection of private property is the foundation of all personal liberty?”

>It didn’t seem like they did.

>“Seriously, guys. Without a strong economic motivator, I’m just going to stand here and not solve this case. Cash is fine, but I prefer being paid in gold bullion or autographed Penn Jillette posters.”

>Nothing. These people were stonewalling me. It almost seemed like they didn’t care that a fortune in computer money invented to buy drugs was missing.

>I figured I could wait them out. I lit several cigarettes indoors. A pregnant lady coughed, and I told her that secondhand smoke is a myth. Just then, a man in glasses made a break for it.

>“Subway™ Eat Fresh and Freeze, Scumbag!®” I yelled.

>Too late. He was already out the front door. I went after him.

>“Stop right there!” I yelled as I ran. He was faster than me because I always try to avoid stepping on public sidewalks. Our country needs a private-sidewalk voucher system, but, thanks to the incestuous interplay between our corrupt federal government and the public-sidewalk lobby, it will never happen.

>I was losing him. “Listen, I’ll pay you to stop!” I yelled. “What would you consider an appropriate price point for stopping? I’ll offer you a thirteenth of an ounce of gold and a gently worn ‘Bob Barr ‘08’ extra-large long-sleeved men’s T-shirt!”

>He turned. In his hand was a revolver that the Constitution said he had every right to own. He fired at me and missed. I pulled my own gun, put a quarter in it, and fired back. The bullet lodged in a U.S.P.S. mailbox less than a foot from his head. I shot the mailbox again, on purpose.

>“All right, all right!” the man yelled, throwing down his weapon. “I give up, cop! I confess: I took the bitcoins.”

>“Why’d you do it?” I asked, as I slapped a pair of Oikos™ Greek Yogurt Presents Handcuffs® on the guy.

>“Because I was afraid.”

>“Afraid?”

>“Afraid of an economic future free from the pernicious meddling of central bankers,” he said. “I’m a central banker.”

>I wanted to coldcock the guy. Years ago, a central banker killed my partner. Instead, I shook my head.

>“Let this be a message to all your central-banker friends out on the street,” I said. “No matter how many bitcoins you steal, you’ll never take away the dream of an open society based on the principles of personal and economic freedom.”

>He nodded, because he knew I was right. Then he swiped his credit card to pay me for arresting him.