One Thousand Years

by Randolph Beck

  “Thank you,” he said, determined to be more careful. “Can you give it to me on a Klemmbrett?”

  McHenry grabbed the tablet that had appeared from the slot and started reading. It was separated into sections, each of which was about a specific person. It was very thorough: Family trees, newspaper articles and personnel records. Some included photos, and some did not. All of it had been translated into English for him. The machine never forgot that he didn't speak German, although he believed he was picking it up.

  He found his own records in the mix, all neatly typed. It was more thorough than he expected, although he initially thought the Purple Heart listed in his awards was an error. He saw two lists of the faculty from his grade school, with names of teachers he had forgotten about and others he remembered fondly. His military service records were all there, including his medical record and flight logs. The last entry showed his presumed death on that doomed flight. It was recorded as a mechanical error due to battle damage. That explains the Purple Heart, he thought. He wasn't certain he was due the medal, but gathered that Parker had pushed for it.

  “Rechner,” he called presently. “How about a cup of hot chocolate?”

  He would often end his day with a luxurious cup of hot chocolate in his room, sipping while staring out into space and contemplating on the events of the day. Rather than dive back into the material on the tablet, McHenry thought for a moment about the machine. It had fascinated him more than once, but he had never taken the time to study the technology itself or the limitations on its use.

  The machine controlled all the equipment aboard Göring. Everything: The slots that provided food and drinks, the screens on the walls, elevators, even the lights, and probably the propulsion and control of the ship itself. The machine had more than just intelligence. It also held responsibility.

  This much seemed obvious now. What didn't seem so obvious before was that the machine was always making decisions before carrying out those functions, and taking in his reactions. It was only a matter of time before McHenry would connect the dots. He now realized that he couldn't trust the machine the way he did before.

  He didn't know whether it would ever lie to him, although he suspected that it could. He was sure, however, that it would tell him only as much as it wanted him to know. He began reading the materials again from the beginning. Only this time he would look for whatever was missing.

  But a lot was missing. Not every name included school records, and even his own school records were incomplete. This made sense to him, as most of this information would have been discarded over the years. Then he went to his military records. They did appear to be complete. That also made sense. After all, the Army never throws anything away. McHenry decided to put all his efforts there and prepared for a long read.

  It was a long read, and it seemed like a pointless exercise. Then he scanned the tablet for other Americans in the list. There were three others, but only two in the military, and their files were also long and boring. One was a Navy pilot, lost in the Pacific theater, and the other was a soldier who lost his leg and then died on the sea voyage home after the war ended.

  “Rechner, can a man who lost his leg get a new one?”

  “Yes,” it answered. “The medical facilities aboard Göring are equipped to replace limbs.”

  Well, he thought, at least that's one man who would definitely appreciate the trip. Then he considered what Dale had said about Parker. He might not want to be rescued. Of course she was right. Parker was a devout Christian. He expects to wake up in Heaven and meet Jesus Christ, not that black Nazi Mtubo. McHenry was set to ponder the morality of letting Parker die just to let him avoid this mean spectacle, but he just realized what was missing in those records. There had been no mention of religion anywhere.

  He scanned back, remembering the words that were printed on the first page of his real personnel records. Even his dog tags had a single-letter abbreviation for religion. It was on everyone's file. It had to be readily accessible just in case a chaplain was called. But they weren't listed here. It was a curious omission. Why did the friend of that Italian's die? Would they allow Parker to die because he was a devout man? It was a cruel thought.

  The soldiers' and the pilots' records didn't list a religion either. He read every line just to be sure, but he was already sure. He then went back through the military records of the Germans, and the Italians and the Japanese. No religions were listed anywhere.

  “Rechner!” he said sternly, tucking the Klemmbret under his arm. “I'm going to see Sturmbannführer Dale. You might want to warn her that I'm on my way.” Being already mad, he put an emphasis on the word Sturmbannführer. He was going to be madder if what he suspected to be true turned out to be true in fact. Pronouncing the name of that Nazi rank just put a steam iron onto his mood.

  *

  Dale was waiting for him at the SS officers' mess. It was a good thing, he realized. He might have had trouble finding her elsewhere.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. He gathered that she already knew that. She had remained standing, which was not usually the case.

  “Did the machine tell you I was in a foul mood?”

  “Yes,” she said, looking at the tablet in his hand. “Rechner, two cups of coffee.”

  “No thanks,” said McHenry, but the cups were already on their way out.

  She took a seat and slid one cup toward him. “Oh, you'd better. We might as well talk for a while. It might help you think better, and I need a break myself.”

  “I have a problem,” he said, taking a seat. He moved his cup closer just to be cordial. “I was looking at this list of people you're bringing back. You people seem to have everything. Funny thing is, this list doesn't include any religious information.”

  “It's a summary. The list doesn't have their bowling scores either,” she said.

  “Not exactly true. I've seen sports scores in the newspaper articles.”

  “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.

  “You
r 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.”