Part 6 (2/2)
”Tch, tch. Colonials!” The sounds of scuffling came from behind, and something thudded against the back of Kunz's seat.
”Cut that out!” One of the policemen said, moving forward from the wall.
”The man's a complete savage,” the English voice protested.
”I ain't stayin' next ta him. Everyone knows they're all gay.”
And then a hush descended on the auditorium as a figure with a face familiar to all, wearing a brown Party uniform with Iron Cross and swastika armband, walked out from the wings and crossed the stage to the lectern. He surveyed the rows of faces before him and pursed his lips for a moment below his narrow, clipped mustache. ”I'm given to understand that I seem to have made myself rather unpopular with some people,” Adolf Hitler said. He waited, but there was no immediate response. ”But that's terrible. I have made plans for straightening out-with all due respect to my predecessors-the bungled job that's been made of the Weimar const.i.tution, and for getting the country onto a sound democratic footing at last. The League of Nations hasn't been working out as well as was envisioned, and I've been giving some thought to that, too. . . . But what are all these awful things about me that I've been told? I need to know what the complaints are before we go launching into anything new. Well, you've come all this way. Somebody must have something to say.”
A man near the front leaped up to reveal the slogan NO NUKES written across the back of his sweater in large red letters. ”It was because of you that the nuclear nightmare was unleashed across the world,”
he shouted. ”World War II was the cause of the Manhattan Project, which produced the Bomb. That led to everything else, and then everyone got ahold of it.” He pointed an accusing finger. ”Radiation! Fallout!
Genetic diseases! Deformed babies! Because of you, the world will end with universal cancer!”
Hitler stared at him incredulously. ”Radiation? Genetic dis-”
Suddenly, the spell broke. ”Industrial pollution of the planet!” a woman near the back shrieked, rising.
She was wearing an EARTH FIRST b.u.t.ton on a black leotard painted with a white skeleton. ”Your war brought about the decline of Europe. Unchecked capitalist greed in the postwar U.S.A. resulted in-”
”You call yourself National Socialists,” a man in a black opera cape yelled out. People were on their feet all around the room by now. ”But you destroyed socialism! If it hadn't been for your treachery in 1941, Russia would have ruled the world.”
”That's not true!” a voice called from near where Kunz was sitting. ”If they hadn't rallied against the n.a.z.is, the Soviets would have disintegrated. Stalin was a lunatic. Hitler saved Communism.”
”But you destroyed Germany, on the eve of what should have been its era of greatness,” a man in a kaiser helmet and trenchcoat shouted out.
Voices were shouting from all sides.
”Ma.s.s murderer! What about the camps?”
”n.a.z.ism was to blame for the rock cult and drugs!”
”It caused p.o.r.nography, teenage pregnancies, and evolution!”
”. . . belief in astrology and the paranormal . . .”
”And liberals and gays and AIDS!”
Hitler smiled tolerantly and raised his arms in an appeal for order. Slowly the hubbub subsided. ”My dear people . . . really, this is all most bewildering. I know we do have some outstanding ideological differences to resolve, but it is my firm belief that the Western civilization that has arisen in Europe is about to enter its golden age of prosperity and culture. With confidence in reason and the creative potential of the human mind, we have it within our power as a species to eliminate universally and permanently the evils of hunger, disease, poverty, oppression, and ignorance that have plagued humanity for as long as humanity has existed. To let you into a secret, we have some scientists working on rocket propulsion for vehicles which, they tell me, might one day enable us to leave this planet entirely. And as for the political differences between ourselves and our Russian neighbors, well, I know there have been problems in the past. But those problems stemmed from shortages of resources, and in the new age I see coming, with new technologies that will end such shortages, I am optimistic that eventually, with better education and as tensions relax, we will come to see . . .”
As. .h.i.tler spoke on, the atmosphere around the room changed. One by one, those of the audience who were on their feet sat down. Many of them exchanged puzzled looks. Something was very wrong. Was this the fiend who had gone down as one of the arch-villains of history?
”I must confess to being somewhat bemused,” Kunz heard the English voice whisper behind him. ”He seems to be quite a decent sort of chap, really.”
”Yeah,” the Brooklyn voice breathed in reply. ”Dis ain't de way I hoid it. Dat guy's okay.”
Kunz frowned, trying to make sense of the situation. He'd seen the newsreels and read the speeches. He recalled Magus's warnings about Hitler's cunning, and the skillful way he deceived his opponents to lull them into a false sense of security. Then it came to him suddenly that it was all a trap. He looked around at the rows of placid faces, some nodding unconsciously as they listened. They were falling for it, all of them-soaking it up.
But not Time Commando Kunz!
He looked away, and saw that the policeman who had quietened the pair behind was still standing a mere couple of feet from Kunz's seat. The policeman's arms were folded, and he was off guard as he listened. He was wearing a belt over his greatcoat, and hanging from the belt on the side nearest to Kunz was a revolver in a holster. The flap of the holster was unfastened. Kunz looked furtively around.
Everyone's attention was on what Hitler was saying. And then Kunz's hand was reaching out stealthily toward the b.u.t.t of the revolver. He was aware of it in a strangely detached kind of way, as if his arm had initiated the motion of its own accord, with the rest of him a spectator. And before he had fully realized it he was on his feet and leveling the gun between both hands. He was dimly aware of voices shouting and heads turning in alarm, and then Hitler was staring straight at him through the sights, white-faced and openmouthed. . . . He didn't remember firing, or the blow on the back of his head after the third shot.
The next thing Kunz knew was that he was stretched out in his seat, and his head hurt. There were policemen on either side of him and in front of him, and a pandemonium of blurred voices all around. He raised his head, and several hands immediately clamped down on his shoulders from behind.
Up on the stage, two medics in white smocks were in the process of lifting an inert form covered by a sheet onto a stretcher. The officials who had been sitting behind were gathered in a huddle, wringing their hands in consternation and talking nervously. Two s.h.i.+ny black jackboots protruded from beneath the sheet as the medics lifted the stretcher and carried it off the stage. As Kunz's head cleared, the voices of the officials floated through into his consciousness.
”Stone dead-no doubt about it . . .”
”Oh dear, oh dear . . .”
”. . . three bullets, dead center. Didn't have a chance . . .”
A tired but triumphant smile crept onto Kunz's face. It was done! It didn't matter what happened to him now. The future was saved.
”He was doing such a splendid job of restoring the nation's pride and self-confidence after Versailles and everything. . . . We can't let the people know that this has happened.”
”Oh no! That would ruin everything.”
”And especially after his achievement today . . .”
”We mustn't let anyone know.”
”Then there's no choice. We'll have to use the double.”
”But he's so unstable. Do you really think-”
”We have to risk it. There's no choice.”
”He's on his way here now.”
Kunz sat bolt upright in his seat as the meaning percolated through.
Double?
And then the tramp of jackboots on cobblestones and orders being barked sounded from the court outside. Moments later, two lines of storm troopers entered and surrounded the auditorium, while from the midst of the group of uniformed officers who had appeared inside the entrance, a figure of familiar appearance emerged and strode purposefully down the center, up the side steps onto the stage, and across to the lectern. But not of totally familiar appearance, Kunz saw as the figure glowered out over the hushed audience. The features, forelock, and mustache were similar, but the mouth was grim and determined, and the eyes held a fierce, tempestuous rage.
”Fuhrer, we have decided-” one of the officials began, but the newcomer shut him up with a curt wave of his hand.
”You no longer decide anything. This babbling has gone on long enough. We have work to do and a lot of lost time to make good.” He raised his head to address the officers at the rear and indicated the audience around the room with a wave. ”Get this rabble out of here for a start and lock them up, and clear away all that junk in the Tiergarten. Then we have the last ten years of records to rewrite. Oh yes, there is much to do, indeed.” A wild gleam came into his eyes. ”Ein Reich! Ein volk! Ein fuhrer!” he shrieked.
”Sieg Heil!” the storm troopers chanted.
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