“Put me in the mind of Hitler’s mother just before she died. I have to try one last time to save my parents. What happens to me is no longer important.”
Genesis said nothing.
“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. Do this, please,” she said. “For me.”
“Okay,” Genesis replied. “I owe you as much for taking so much from you.”
“You’ve taken nothing. All I have now comes from you - the life we’ve shared together all these years; I wouldn’t trade any of it.”
Genesis released the block between their minds and sensed the happiness and contentment within her friend; she was speaking sincerely. It now seemed that Jadzia’s death may be inevitable and that Genesis would be the cause of it. She needed to pay Jadzia back for cutting her life short. She searched through the stream and found Hitler’s mother still alive. “I found his mother. Are you ready?”
“Yes,” Jadzia said. “And thank you.”
Genesis said nothing more as no words could make anything right. In an instant, she disconnected from Jadzia and transferred her to a point in the stream. She emerged from the stream in the tree shelter alongside Jadzia’s lifeless body. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Chapter 9
In the apartment of Adolf Hitler on the evening of December 20th, 1907, Klara Hitler lied dying of breast cancer. Edward Bloch, a Jewish doctor that earlier that year removed one of her breasts, had come by to apply another iodoform treatment on the cancerous ulcerations. For Jadzia, the Polish girl now operating within Klara’s body, the pain was beyond excruciating. The pungent smell of the iodoform filled every nook of the apartment. Adolf never left her alone. He would sometimes clean the floor or prepare meals, but he knew her death approached and the depression had weakened his spirits.
“Adolf,” Jadzia forced out, her breath drawing the foul smell into her lungs.
Hitler stopped his chores and sat beside his mother’s cot in the kitchen. “What is it, mother?”
“I won’t make it through the night,” she said. “And there’s something I need to tell you.”
“Don’t speak that way,” he said.
“Why have you been so sad?”
Adolf began to cry, but quickly brushed the tears away and straightened his posture.
“Don’t worry about your father anymore, Adolf. Cry if you need to.”
The tears started again but as before, he dried his eyes and changed his countenance. The long years of harsh discipline meted out by his father had left their mark and Adolf could not resist the inward pressure to conform - even if his father was dead.
“Tell me,” Jadzia said, “why have you been so depressed of late? It isn’t just me, is it?”
“No,” he said. “I didn’t leave Vienna because you took ill, but...” He stammered for right words. “I failed the academy’s examination.”
“After you worked so hard,” she said. “I’m sorry, Adolf.” Jadzia found it difficult to remain supportive of the man who would later take her parents’ lives, but she knew that the future may not yet be written in indelible ink, and perhaps this tragic event in his life could somehow alter what would otherwise be inevitable. Sadly, Jadzia feared she might not live long enough to see the results.
“I tried so hard,” he said. “I brought all I had to Vienna to train, and I failed.”
Jadzia reached out and took Adolf’s hand tenderly. “You’ve never disappointed me, son.” She said, realizing that Adolf was no less human than she was. Whatever drove him to take his own fate, perhaps this night – in the company of his mother – would provide the weight to change the stream’s momentum.
“Father would have been.”
“Your father was wrong about a great many thing,” she said. “His love for Austria blinded him. And you can learn from that.”
“I’ll never be so misled,” he assured her.
“I believe you,” Jadzia said, now desperately trying to be a source of comfort to him. “And yet, many men before your father swore they would not let their love of God and country change them. It usually did. Promise me you won’t let that happen.”
“I promise,” Hitler said without hesitation.
Jadzia smiled and changed the subject. “What will do when I am gone?”
Adolf tried to rebuke her but he stopped when he saw her seriousness. “I’m not sure,” he said.
“You won’t continue pursuing art?”
“Why should I? Maybe the academy’s rejection is an omen - a sign that I should choose something else. Maybe I should become an architect like Father wanted.”
“But that won’t make you happy, Adolf. Your father was a difficult man, I know. But he loved you and he only wanted what he thought was best.” Jadzia dug deep into Klara’s mind for memories to make her ruse more believable. It took all her strength to draw those images from her subconscious; she had buried them away someplace deep, as though hoping to forget forever. “What’s best, though, is for you to find something to make you happy. If you truly believe you can become a great artist, then don’t let the ghost of your father stop you.”
“I’m scared of losing you,” he said.
“I know, son. I know.” She looked away from Adolf and strained to see the clock. “What time is it?”
“Just after midnight,” he answered.
“You need to rest.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
She could tell by his demeanor that he meant his words and was there as long as she breathed. She said nothing more, and for the next hour and a half, mother and son sat in peace and quiet together, neither of them uttered a word.
“Why did it come to this?” he finally whispered.
“We all come to this point,” she said.
“But when I need you the most?”
“Life and death are rarely convenient, Adolf. You cannot let what happens to me decide who you become. You are still in control of your own destiny. Your father didn’t do this to me; nor did any man.”
“The doctor was careless!” he said in a raised voice.
“That isn’t true. He’s done all anyone can.”
“Maybe Father was right: perhaps we should have an Austrian examine you instead of a Jew!”
Jadzia’s self-control waned. “Adolf Hitler! You won’t speak that way again. Your father was never right about that. Even if Doctor Bloch erred, it had nothing to do with being a Jew!”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” he said. “I’m just so angry.”
“That sort of anger will not bring you joy in life. You need to accept my passing, and not be so quick to find someone to blame.”
“Yes, you’re right.”
Jadzia turned away and closed her eyes. Hitler reached for his mother’s hand and began to weep. She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to. For the next hour, she lied still and breathed shallow. Jadzia remained in Klara’s body and never called out for Genesis. She had nothing else to say. Moments later, she breathed her final breath - and in the body of Adolf Hitler’s mother. Their deaths would be ones Genesis and Hitler would carry for the rest of their lives.
Deep in the Canadian wilderness, in the tree shelter that Genesis and Jadzia shared together for a decade, she sat beside the body of her best friend and waited for Jadzia to call out to her from the stream. She never did.
She wondered how long she would be alone until Jadzia returned, but moments after that thought passed through her mind, she received her answer. Jadzia’s body gasped for air one last time and expired.
She stroked Jadzia’s cheek and kissed her forehead. She uttered no words as she lifted Jadzia’s body into her arms and brought her outside the shelter into the clearing. She placed her body on Jadzia’s favorite spot of grass where she would often sunbathe and listen to the creek trickle past.
The thought of turning away from Jadzia and disappearing far into the stream and never returning to the clearing entered her mind. But before she could, she turned her attention to the b
ody and fell to the ground weeping. Rage and disappointment with herself built until it eventually released. She shot into the air screaming and turned toward the shelter. In a fit of anger, her fire shot from her hands and set the shelter ablaze. Birds in the tree scattered in all directions. Rage consumed her: fire destroyed the entire clearing as she created a bubble that surrounded the home she and Jadzia shared. Inside the bubble, she forced as much energy as she could gather from the sun into the bubble until she could sustain it no longer. In the smallest fraction of a second, the energy in the bubble vaporized everything within its walls - the grass, the brook, even the body of her friend. Nothing but dust remained.
Genesis turned from the clearing and vowed to never return. She soared high into the atmosphere and approached the borders of space and imagined if she should leave the confines of humanity altogether, never to set foot on Earth again. She was, of course, able to sustain herself on foreign worlds by gathering available elements from her surroundings. The knot in her stomach grew stronger the farther she travelled from her home world. Even now, as the sky turned black and the stars shone in their glory, the knot returned. If she were to leave, how long would she be able to endure the pain of denying herself what she most needed - to help people! So she opted for the only other alternative: returning to humankind and finding someone else to help. And maybe learn from the terrible mistakes she made with Jadzia.
No sooner had she descended to earth that she realized she had another choice before her: she could go back and save Jadzia’s life. But she dismissed the very idea as selfish. Jadzia was free to make the choices she did, even if it cost her life. For Jadzia, death would always be honorable if she died for the right reason. Only one problem remained: Genesis knew that Jadzia’s mission to alter the course of history had ultimately failed. There appeared to be no way to stop Hitler or World War II. But Jadzia would never accept that, not as long as she had air to breathe. If Genesis prevented Jadzia’s death, they would end up with impossible odds staring them in the face, and no doubt Jadzia would again choose death. Stubborn or courageous, Genesis knew where Jadzia would always stand when it came to saving her parents.
And yet, Genesis couldn’t shake the feeling that Jadzia’s life might still be savable. There was only one thing that Jadzia wanted and that was her family. To rescue her from the Nazis and return her to a life alone would be cruel to a girl so hopelessly dependent on her parents for survival. Jadzia’s choices needed to be respected. The only way Genesis could ever see herself violating the wishes of her friend was if she could ever restore a family to her. She would always need something more than friendship.
For the next few decades, Genesis returned to her original home, the stately tree where she had her first memory. Initially, she tried to avoid all contact with people. It didn’t last long. At night, she would often disappear into the stream and watch humanity from afar, ever hopeful that one day she would have the strength to appear before someone again and fulfill the noble quality of heartfelt altruism that guided her intentions - even if her methods needed work.
To prepare herself for helping anyone among humankind that needed her unique brand of assistance, she took it upon herself to learn all the languages on earth. The endeavor ate up years more, but she didn’t care; she couldn’t help anyone if she couldn’t communicate.
As the 21st century began, she set her eyes on a young man she knew she could help. The love of his life had just abandoned him. Filled with despair and afraid of a lonely life, he let his broken heart inform his future choices. For three years, he numbed himself to the world around him and allowed his grief to overwhelm his thinking. A single mistake, if fixed, might alter the course of his life.
Little did the diminutive time-traveller know, but James Grant would change the lives of everyone on earth. And as before with Jadzia, it would be all Genesis’s fault.
Part 2
Chapter 1
The young woman curled her body inside the metal cage that held her prisoner. Cold, stainless steel pressed against her pale, naked body as she shivered in fear. Masked men and women surrounded her, walked to and fro around the room, and shone bright lights from all directions at the girl. She tried to bury her head in her hands, but the metal floor reflecting the light made her efforts futile. Each day she tried to block out her senses, but the prodding and poking from the masked people never stopped. Worst of all, the incessant jostling and clattering against the cage had covered most of her body in bruises and sores.
Any memories she had of her early years were shadowy; she had no recollection of her parents. In fact, only the government that kept her confined knew where she came from; all evidence of the girl's existence was destroyed after her conception. She had no knowledge of it, but the scientists who hovered over her with needles of every shape and size were the same people who governed her creation. A barrage of injections replaced the pain caused by the bruises as needles pierced every region of her body.
The woman, who appeared to be about twenty-five years-old, often thought the injections would be easier to endure if she was the same size as her assailants. Her stature was that of a large flower; the cage she called home was too small to receive any privacy. She endured the same series of injections daily, but the pain paled in comparison to the abuse she suffered by night at the hands of the unscrupulous guards who had no shame in their unspeakable molestations. Her cries for help did nothing.
Once the masked people finished their tests, she collapsed and fell asleep.
When she awoke a few hours later, the girl was disoriented and still groggy. A group of scientists gathered around the cage. One of them tried to measure her height by poking her to straighten her legs.
“Nine inches and shrinking still,” the one said to the group in German.
“Impossible! We isolated the growth gene weeks ago,” another replied.
“Still,” yet another said, “she’s getting stronger.”
“How strong?”
“We need to upgrade the cage.”
The scientist ripped his mask off and pounded his fist against the cage. The girl toppled against the bars from the shock and cried. “Again?” the scientist reacted. “Why can’t you control her strength?”
“Isn’t that what we wanted, sir?” the other replied.
“Yes, but not so strong we can’t control her!”
The first scientist interrupted. “We need to fix the shrinking: a nine-inch girl isn’t what the Fuhrer had in mind. We need to get this right – especially if we mean to breed her. One almighty soldier is not what we need.”
“Yes, sir,” the other scientists said in unison.
The group turned to leave but one of the scientists lingered behind. After the door closed, he knelt to the girl’s level and smiled as kindly as he could manage. He almost lost control of his emotions at the sight of her condition. The girl stopped crying immediately but did nothing to wipe away her tears. The man beckoned the girl towards him, but she backed up against the cage instead.
The man whispered. “I’m a friend, my dear.”
She remained silent.
“I know these men have been vicious and I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said. “Can you speak?”
She nodded cautiously.
“I know. That is but one of my many gifts to you. See that no one knows of it! To most, the perfect soldier doesn’t need to speak, only to listen.”
The girl looked back at him with wide green eyes the color of rich grass after a rain.
“If you were meant to only be a soldier,” the doctor said, “they’d be right. But you are meant for so much more than that. You don’t know it yet, but you will do great things in your life.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” the girl asked softly. There was no way to be sure she would receive an honest answer.
“I can’t tell you that now. I promise, child, when you are finally freed from this awful place, you will not wonder ‘why’ anymore.”
&nb
sp; “Why not?” she said.
The man smiled kindly once again. “Because you won’t remember any of this – or me.”
The girl cocked her head to one side curiously.
“Just as I’ve given you a voice, I’ve given you freedom; and yet, these are just the beginning of my gifts to you. You will have great strength, both in body and mind. You will possess a love for others and a compelling desire to help those in trouble. But you will have more than just the will – you will also have the way, a means of helping those in need.”
The Great Altruist Page 11
