One Thousand Years (18 page)

“Only
because it was in the article,” she replied. “But, look,
I don't know why the rechner puts some things in there and leaves
other things out. Rechners do things by their own logic. It may be
that it considered this subject a personal matter. Or perhaps it
doesn't want to prejudice you. It knows you're going to be meeting
these people.”

“So,
you're telling me that some of these people are religious?”

“No,
Sam,” she sighed. “I just don't want you to get the
impression that this is that important a consideration for us. So
many men died in that foul war that we can pick and choose from the
ones we think would assimilate well. But it's only a minor
consideration. If you seriously believe we wouldn't recover your
friend because of this...”

“That's
exactly what I believe,” he said firmly.

“You're
wrong, Sam,” she insisted. “It's just not important in
that way. Did the Army tell you we had laws against religion? There
are many religious people in the Reich. Why would we care?”

McHenry
was no longer steaming, but he still didn't trust her. “Okay.
How many religious people do you have on this ship?”

She
paused, taking another sip from her coffee and then glancing at his
untouched coffee cup. “None, but that's different. They're
not in the Luftwaffe or the SS. But something you need to understand
is that people started giving up those customs and superstitions when
they started living longer. It became emotionally unnecessary once
humanity gained immortality — and that was a long time ago.

“I
told you that your friend wouldn't like it here,” she
continued. “But that was just an honest assessment. His
religion wasn't a problem for us. Or, frankly, it wasn't a deciding
issue. We would have given him the counseling he needed. The
American army must have told you more lies about national socialism,
Sam. It just isn't the way that you think.”

McHenry
couldn't accept that. Some of it did make sense, but the question of
the missing religious information still didn't ring true.

“Even
for the Jews?” he asked, still wary.

“Your
friend wasn't a Jew.”

“I
know that,” he said. “I'm just asking. Did the Army lie
about that?”

“You'd
better have some of your coffee,” she said. “You might
be up for a while, and I know that you need sleep.”

He
did as she suggested and then motioned her to continue.

“Sam,
as I've conceded, Hitler didn't like the Jews. It was a deep-seated
prejudice, the kind that was common in the twentieth-century. You've
experienced something like it yourself, and you know that the Jews
aren't well liked in America either. It was only worse in Europe.
The problem is that they didn't like Hitler either. They weren't
legally citizens, and those who stayed in Germany became a security
risk. One Jew assassinated a German diplomat and that set off anger
in the streets. They needed to be placed into camps for the Reich's
security as well as their own protection.”

“What
did they
do
to them?” McHenry insisted.

“The
war wasn't going too well for us at this point,” she explained.
“You know this. You were a part of it. We were fighting a
multi-front war. You made it very hard to get supplies.”

“And
now it's our fault?”

“Well,
frankly, yes,” she replied. “Even before the war,
America would take in very few Jews. The resettlement camps became
overcrowded. Disease took its toll. Many died of disease, typhus
mostly.”

“How
many?”

“Altogether?
Probably a million. No one knows the exact number.”

He
took another sip of coffee but said nothing. It was hard to
comprehend. He had never dealt with numbers in the millions until he
started learning to fly the Luftwaffe's Tigers. Those were energy
quantities and distance measurements, not men, women and children.

“Yes,
you do know the number,” he said suddenly. “You're
cataloging individuals. Your machines watch everything. You said so
yourself. You said you had the next two years mapped out.”

“Sam,
keep in mind that this war will kill tens of millions. Many will die
in combat, many will die in the cities that are bombed, and many will
starve for lack of food. Half a million Germans starved after the
first world war because the English and French blocked relief
supplies — and that was
after
that war was already over.
Wars are terrible things.”

She
continued, cutting off any reply. “Do not forget that the
English were excellent agitators. The Russians, too. Wars require
the support of the people, and for that they create propaganda. They
planted many false stories. This is common. I'm sure the Germans
did it, too.”

McHenry
studied her face. She seemed uneasy about this. It was no doubt a
difficult subject for her, but he wondered how much of that unease
was more from the difficulty in explaining this away. He also
assumed that Nazi historians had very likely sanitized the number
dead. The number was likely closer to the millions he had heard
before. He also understood something else.

“I
don't believe it,” he said.

“War
does terrible things,” she repeated.

“That's
not what I mean,” he corrected. “You've often noticed
how I'm not yet at home here in your future. Things that are normal
for you are surprises for me. I knew that you were really old but I
was still shocked when you told me you had grandchildren. You look
so young.”

Her
head tilted, as though marked by curiosity.

“See?”
he said, examining her expression. “In my time, older women
would be pleased when someone notices that they look young. Or at
least they would react differently. Okay, so looking young isn't so
special here. It's a lot like that with your physics. Where I come
from, this ship is impossible. Traveling faster than light, or back
in time, are thought impossible in my day. The very gravity on this
ship is impossible. I'm not even sure what's more impossible, the
gravity right here on this deck, or the way it ends sharply at the
hangar. This is all going to take me a long time to get used to.
But you aren't at home in my time either. You may be a historian,
but you don't have the instincts of a person in the
twentieth-century. Before the war, I'd been hit every day by
advertisements in newspapers selling soap and cereal. I'm no easy
mark. So let me tell you something: Millions of people cannot just
die that way in Europe.

“No,”
he stopped himself immediately. “It actually takes more than
starvation and disease. You may not realize this — your
machines give you all the food you want — but most people in my
time are able to take care of themselves if they're allowed to. Poor
people in my country live in shacks with dirt floors but they don't
die by the millions. Those Jews were moved out of their positions in
a modern society to a place where they could not provide for
themselves. If you could not take care of them then you should have
let them go. To allow that many to die is unconscionable.”

“Nobody
would take them, Sam. They tried. America wouldn't take them. But
I do understand. I even told you we made mistakes. This was a
difficult war. The history of America isn't perfect either. Even
now, your country is holding thousands of American families in camps
simply because their ancestors were from Japan. They're holding
still more from Germany and Italy who tried to become citizens.”

“How
many are dying from typhus?”

“Different
set of economics,” she replied. “Then you have to
consider the earlier sins of America's past: Slavery, wars, the
confiscation of Indian lands.”

“That
was many years ago.”

“Sam,”
she sighed. “To us, all those Jews died a thousand years ago.
It's ancient history.”

He
took another sip from his coffee. “Can you really pass it off
that easily?”

“It's
a part of our history that had to be done.”

“Had
to be done? Do Jews think so too?” He stammered for a moment,
suddenly pondering a horrendous thought. “Are there any left?”

Dale
set her coffee cup down. “Rechner, please contact
Standartenführer
Stern. Request a meeting.” She then
turned to McHenry, “One of his parents, a Canadian I believe,
has Jewish blood.”

A
chime sounded. McHenry had learned that high-ranking officers had
distinct tones to announce their presence.

“Herr
Standartenführer
,” said Dale. “Herr McHenry is
uncomfortable with the unfortunate events of the Hitler times,
particularly with respect to the Jewish question. Would you be able
to speak with him about this?”

“I
see,” answered Stern. “I will be happy to see him. Send
him to my office.”

“The
‘Jewish question’?” prompted McHenry.

“Don't
be so naive, Sam. Even in your day, that phrase had been around for
hundreds of years. Henry Ford wrote a book about it. You should
have read it.”

Dale
led him out the door, leaving their coffee cups on the table.

“Is
this really necessary?” asked McHenry. He didn't think Stern
would be any more forthcoming than she was.

“Yes,”
she replied. “This is a big deal to you. I don't want to
leave any questions in your mind. It would be best if you get over
this ancient history and move on with your new life.”

*

Stern's
private office was just off the main watch room. McHenry saw two
large screens when they entered, but they quickly disappeared,
dissolving as though they never existed.

“It
is good to see you again Herr McHenry,” said Stern.

“Likewise,”
McHenry replied perfunctorily.

Dale
asked to be excused, adding the inevitable
Heil
Renard!
McHenry caught a
glimpse of the mysterious Mtubo beckoning to her in the hallway just
as the door was closing behind her. Then he was left alone with
Stern, having the impression this meeting might even have been
planned somehow.

Stern
took a seat and simultaneously motioned McHenry to do the same. “I
understand you still feel some antagonism for our first
Führer
.”

“What
I don't understand is, how could you not?” responded McHenry.
It was more of a statement than a question.

“Why
do you say that? Because one of my grandparents was a Jew? It is
true that I am very fortunate. I do feel bad in that the progeny of
those millions who died might otherwise have been as fortunate as me.
Adolf Hitler performed a service for me and for all of the Jews who
survived those times. You see, the hatred of the Jews did not begin
with Adolf Hitler. That goes back thousands of years. This hatred
forced the Jews to bind together, supporting one another, apart from
the greater society in which they lived.

“They
had a fable, perhaps you know of it, where a man named Abraham was
ordered by their deity to kill his own son. The man was actually
about to do it, hesitating just long enough for the deity to stop
him. It was a test of loyalty, you see, but it was loyalty to a
myth! Such fruitless loyalty stayed with the Jews for millennia, and
what did it gain them? Only more hatred from the very real people
who were not myths.

“You
have seen them,” he continued. “Wearing those little
hats; praying in their temples to an imaginary deity; spending their
entire lives in endless rituals that serve no purpose, and separating
themselves from the greater society. Do you think I would want to
live in such a group? I do not simply refuse to hate Adolf Hitler.
On the contrary, I
thank
Adolf Hitler! Without him and his movement, I might be living in
those dark ages.”

“But
millions of people!” McHenry exclaimed.

“Matters
not!” Stern asserted. “Those are millions who might
otherwise have been left to suffer a miserable existence. The
greater society comes first; before groups, and before individuals.
The Reich needed to survive. Say what you will but difficult
decisions had to be made.”

“You're
seeming to admit that the number was in the millions, and that these
deaths were deliberate.”

“Yes.”
Stern smiled again. “You are quite right. You'll
have to excuse
Sturmbannführer
Dale for
not being candid with you. Due to her work, she knows more than she
is permitted to disclose. She doesn't have the discretion that I
do.”

“In
what way is this a military secret? If it was one thousand years ago
to you, then why the censorship now?”

“What you think of as censorship
is a way for the Reich to maintain order, unity and civility.
It has always been that way, not only in our society,
but in the world in general.”

“Then
why keep the exact number a secret?”

“This
is not like a military secret. We simply choose not to dwell on it.”
Stern seemed to think for a few seconds, looking into the air above
McHenry momentarily. “Just suppose the number was really ten
million,” he said after a pause. “Would you then say
Hitler was ten times as bad as he would be if we only killed one
million?

“And
then what if the number was only half a million,” he continued.
“Would you then say that was half as bad as one million? You
see, these numbers are of such a scale that the moral consequences
cannot be judged on the basis of quantities. We dismiss the numbers
and think only in terms of right and wrong. And for that you must
judge the times. You do not possess the historical insight in which
to judge the moral correctness of a man like Adolf Hitler.”

“I
don't need historical insight to say that such mass killing is
wrong,” said McHenry.

“Oh
really?” Stern asked with a sneer. “If you like, I can
have the rechner list the names of men you have killed for the
American army. I can even give you the names of their families,
widows, and orphans.”