“So?” I say.
“So. The entire Knighthood is based on this idea that the Führer brought everyone together in the name of peace. Europe built the Atlantropan dams, because of Aryan ingenuity, through our intellect in engineering and science. It was peace. But instead…it just seems like he had other motives,” Ulric’s voice shakes as he blurts out each word. It was as if someone was stabbing him with every syllable.
I lean back on the bench and crane my neck up, looking at the empty center of this great tower. White light illuminates the entire structure with a mystifying glow. It is odd being in an area that isn’t just sand and salt for once. I don’t know if I really took the time to let that sink in yet.
“What does it matter?” I say to Ulric, he looks at me with an expression of confusion, “what does it matter if Hitler wasn’t an Aryan like us? He still led the Reich. Still built the dams, and hell, led to this beautiful tower being built. Isn’t that in itself a grand truth? The rest are just little lies.”
Ulric runs a shaking hand through his messy hair, eyes bulging at the idea. This entire situation was truly breaking him. It was as if he was carrying a large stone and struggling to keep it from crushing him.
“It isn’t just little lies,” he argues, looking at particularly nobody. “This is the grand truth…what does it say about the entire state of the Reich if it maintains itself off of a false idea? The dams themselves were built by those men…the Kiln…all of the savagery that took place was because of those dark-haired men…non-Aryans…don’t you see we are just products of some inferior’s plans that has lasted for thousands of years…”
“I refuse to believe that,” I scoff, feeling my stomach churn inside at the very idea.
“But what if it’s true? Ansel, I study this for a living…this book and these pictures should not exist…” Ulric puts his face into his hands and breathes deeply, “I have no explanation for any of this…”
I look at the old book. My eyes analyze every bit of it. An idea comes to my mind.
“How come that book survived the boat sinking?” I ask him, my hand reaching for the book. I flip through the pages. “Why are none of the words ruined or the pictures blurry?”
Ulric takes his face from his hands and skims through the pages, “It was in a sealed container…” he says, “no water was able to get inside…”
I say nothing, reaching the end of the book and turning back to the front cover.
“I see,” I mumble, my mind going blank. As if on a reflex, or as if something else has taken control of my body, I lift myself off the bench with the book in hand. Ulric’s face darts up to see what I am doing. My eyes glance down at the book, then at the fountain and the cool water running through it.
Ignoring the protests of my brother, I take the book with one hand and dunk it into the water in the fountain. A force presses against my body and I tumble to the marble floor. Ulric stands over me with arms outstretched as he lunges into the fountain. As he stands back up he is holding the soggy book. A series of “whys” tumble from his mouth as he flips through the wet pages.
I pull myself back up, regaining my feet. He stares daggers at me. I look back at him without expression, dusting myself off. It seemed only a few people in the crowd turned their heads at the scuffle.
“Why…” Ulric mutters, “you ruined it.”
“It wasn’t healthy,” I state, “you were becoming obsessive. It was destroying you. I should have burned it, or ruined it earlier.”
Ulric paces around, cradling the book as if it was some dead child. His breathing becomes sporadic and his shoulders heave up and down. A hand goes to his forehead as he occasionally glances back at me.
“How can you not want to investigate this more?” Ulric spits, “something is off, and you just choose to…what…ignore it?!”
“Yes,” I flatly state. Ulric stops, mouth agape. I dust myself off again before looking back at his wide-open eyes. “Nothing will change from this, Ulric. This world—is what it is. That,” I point a hand to the statue, “is what made the Reich. Made you. Made me. Made the entire Kiln. I’m not going to be easily swayed by a few pictures.”
I take the doubt that manifests inside my body and shove it deep down. There is probably some other explanation for all of this. Ulric is just ecstatic—that’s all. The book isn’t healthy. None of this is healthy. I don’t need to deal with it right now.
“But…but I need answers,” Ulric says, “how can I be a Knight if I’m not even sure in a tenet that I believe. If I don’t even know who the Führer was? If I’ve been reading the wrong book my entire life? I don’t even know if Adolf Hitler wrote this version of My Struggle. He holds up the book copy with the blond depiction, “the philosophies, the style of writing is entirely different…”
“Then serve the philosophy of that book.” I say, “the Reich of today is all that matters.”
“He was bitter…that’s all I got out of it…Germany lost the war, yet instead of rising from the ashes to embrace former enemies like the entire story goes, he actually just wished to win another war against them.… All I can think of is that the dams weren’t his first choice…” Ulric mumbles on, his voice becoming weaker. “And…and somehow he didn’t go to war, I don’t know why…instead, he decided to build the dams. Maybe he knew that war wouldn’t work. Maybe the dams were a threat…”
“We live in peace. Isn’t that what matters? Our race still prospers,” I state.
“Is this prospering?” Ulric says, looking at the wet book, “we drained the sea, Ansel. We fight against raiders in the desert. We’ve been told our entire lives that it was a part of the original Aryan’s plans, but the more time I spend down here, the less use I see for this place. I used to tell myself it was worth it because it was written in the book. But I’ve spent my life studying a book that was written by somebody else.”
“You will get back onto the ship and we will carry on as usual,” I order.
Ulric chuckles and puts his hand to his head again. “If people knew what the Führer was really like, they’d want to reflood this entire basin in a heartbeat. We were duped. I knew there was something off about this place.”
“The dams are the only thing keeping the Reich alive. For as long as they’ve been around we’ve been at peace.”
“You don’t really believe that. You just want to stay in the Kiln,” Ulric says.
“I’m done discussing this,” I state, “when the ship is fixed up, you will get back on it. Then, if you want to ruin your life over this, go ahead.”
“I’m only getting back on the ship to interrogate that old man. I still need answers whether you want them or not,” he states. And with that Ulric turns around and disappears into the crowd.
I’m left alone, sitting next to the fountain. There has to be some explanation for the book. Some reason for the red-and-white flag, instead of our red-and-gold. It’s one of those thoughts you know is ridiculous to consider. What is the point? It isn’t my place to worry about this.
Ulric doesn’t realize that even answers won’t satisfy him. They will only leave him empty. Wondering about what this place really is…I know what it is. It’s the Kiln. It doesn’t matter whether this place was created by a blond Aryan or not. I don’t care. It doesn’t change that people still live here and they need supplies. Ships still attack people in the desert.
This whole situation with the book could easily be the Scavengers’ doing for all we know. Perhaps they did plant it—we don’t know. That would make more sense than our Reich having a made-up depiction of our fucking Founder. My mind has no confidence in this assumption, though. I can’t find confidence about many things anymore. There’s just numbness.
Solutions
We are leaving the Eagle Nest early this morning. The treads turn once more, and the horn bellows a final goodbye to the people who helped us. That great stone to
wer casts a great shadow above us. I had gotten used to the cool artificial air of the city. As the massive gates open, we sail between them and out into the desert. Beyond the grasp of the shadow of our Nest, the heat returns in full force. Even through our own cooling systems, I can still feel it. The white, blinding sun greets us once again.
I was worried Ulric wasn’t going to show, but he did, walking onto the deck with his head held low. We haven’t spoken since the argument. There isn’t much that needs to be said. What more can you say to a man who now shares a different perspective on this place, the Reich’s origins, and the original Führer himself? You can’t say much. You simply prevent him from foolishly spreading the words to others.
More sleepless nights haunt me. Guilt over it all. Getting the Howling Dark back into operation had given me no relief. The memories of our dead men still flash through my mind, as I toss and turn without relief. If I just hadn’t made that maneuver we would have been at Eagle Nest #18 by now, and my men would not have died. Ulric would never have discovered that damned book. My brother wouldn’t be having some kind of mental breakdown. This is all my fault, and I know it. That voice keeps whispering into my ear every night. As a captain, I had a solemn obligation to protect my crew, and as a brother, I had a sacred obligation to protect my blood. I failed at both.
Some Aryan I truly am.
I stand on the Bridge of the Howling Dark, my arms held at my sides. The glass has been replaced, and the floor swept. My cigar dangles out of the side of my mouth, now reduced to a small, glowing bud of smoldering distraction. I pay it no mind, even as its falling ashes begin to kiss my cheek. I think I’ve smoked about five today, and it’s not even noon.
The crew on deck go about their duties, and the engine continues its usual hum. Volker stands at my side, checking over the dashboard. He makes idle chat while we go about our business. My responses to him are short. Much is on my mind.
Volker stands next to me, looking over the charts. We have maintained a relative silence between us, ever since Ulric and I set off in that ill-fated Camel—ever since I saw him give that farewell salute…my First Officer, ready to go down with the Howling Dark in the place of its departing Captain. The normal order now restored, I have been tending to my own duties, and he to his own. Eventually one of the things he says registers in my mind.
“So, where is your brother?” he asks in a casual manner. “He hasn’t come up to the Bridge all day.”
I pause, putting out the cigar butt in an ashtray.
“He’s been keeping to himself lately. I think the journey through the desert just tired him out,” I lie, focusing my attention on the buttons of the dashboard.
Volker nods his head in understanding.
“That was a pretty bold move of you to go and venture out into the Kiln, sir,” Volker tells me. “Not many captains would do that. The crew appreciated it.”
“I didn’t do it for the crew,” I say, the guilt coming back to me. “It was my order. So it was fitting that I go out.”
There is a lull in the conversation. I take another cigar out from my pouch. Luckily, I was able to refill my supply at the Eagle Nest. I bought around thirty for the journey.
“Don’t knock yourself up over it. The crew doesn’t blame you,” Volker reassures me. “In fact, if they think anybody is to blame, it’s the Scavenger.”
I pause, as the lighter stands still in front of my cigar. My mind goes numb, attempting to process what he just said. A chill goes through the cabin. Volker, realizing he just said something wrong, drops his head back down to the dashboard.
“What did you say?” I mutter, turning my head to Volker. He looks up, his face in a grimace.
“It’s just a dumb rumor, sir,” he says, attempting to brush it off. “I wouldn’t get too worked up over it.”
“Rumors are the news of the Kiln, Volker,” I say, my voice becoming dull and precise. I make my way toward him with cigar in mouth staring directly at the uncomfortable First Officer. “What did they say?”
“They think he intentionally didn’t call in the Aegir Drop…” he admits.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I spat, my eyes glaring back at him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“It’s not like the men would do anything,” he says, raising his hands up. “He’s your brother.”
“He was talking about how the men were giving him odd looks. How the fuck did this rumor begin?” I growl, my body leaning over his. Volker looks at me with worry, as if he would rather be anywhere else. The engine still hums.
“He was talking to that Scavenger all the time…” he admits. “You know how they are. They try to connect the dots…”
My hand goes to my brow as I walk away. “I never should have let him keep that old man.”
Volker says nothing.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” I yell, my arms flying up into the air. I almost drop the cigar. Volker takes a few steps back.
“You left immediately after the Drop. The rumors didn’t begin until you were already gone…”
“No,” I say, smoke coming from my mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me they were suspicious over the Scavenger. I would have just had him kill the fucker before any of this trouble started.”
“It was mostly just suspicion,” he says. “It wasn’t really dangerous.”
“Suspicion is always dangerous down here,” I say.
Suddenly, it was like a calm had come over my body. One decision pops into my mind. A remedy to resolve this entire situation.
“He needs to kill the Scavenger,” I say. “That’s the only way he’ll win back their trust,” I say this, but in my head I know this is the only way he’ll win back my trust. I don’t know what has happened to my own brother. He’s changed. It’s my fault that he’s changed. I need to fix this.
“Alright, sir,” Volker agrees.
My heart drums inside my chest. This is the only way. I don’t know what that old man said to him. I wasn’t down there to hear every one of their jailhouse talks. Perhaps he said something? Did I allow a Scavenger to infect my brother’s mind? That was when he started talking ill of the Kiln. He saw me as a savage. It all makes sense now. I let the smoke out of my mouth and it climbs to the ceiling above.
“It’s the best shot we have,” I mutter, looking down to the deck below.
With every step I hear the clang of my feet against metal. Clank. Clank. Clank. With every step I take, the tempo quickens. I make my way down the winding stairs of the tower and go underneath the deck. Strolling through the cramped corridors, I make my way to Ulric’s room. My fist clangs against the metal three times. I wait. No answer. I bang against the door three more times. More waiting. There is no answer.
As I stride down the hall again, I go down another flight of steps. The sound of sand splashing against the bottom of the ship fills the corridor. Voices radiate across the hall. They become louder. When I turn the corner, I see Ulric once again in a chair with that damned book in hand, talking to the old man. His head spins toward me. I don’t say a word and walk over to him, turning my attention to the Scavenger. My hand collides with the side of his bearded face and he crumples against the wall.
Ulric yells, standing up and lunging at me. I shake him off, pressing him against the iron bars. As I turn around, I see him staring at me with open eyes.
“They suspect you,” I whisper to him. Ulric’s shocked face falls, he looks down to the old man who is picking himself back up.
“Who?” he asks.
“The crew.”
“About what?”
I let him go, and exit the iron cell. I take a puff of the cigar and smoke floats about the dimly lit room. “They suspect for some reason that you intentionally didn’t call in the Aegir Drop.”
Ulric lets out a laugh at the idea. “You were the only one who didn’t want me
to call in the Aegir Drop.”
“I know.”
“And so because of your mistake I am getting blamed?” he argues, laughing even more. “What a great situation. Thank you, Ansel.”
“You were the one who wanted to keep the Jew. They wouldn’t be suspicious of you in the first place if you hadn’t been having these private chats with this old man,” I spit, pointing an armored finger at the prisoner.
Ulric sits down. I pull up a chair and sit down with him as well.
“I don’t know what is going on with you, Ulric,” I say.
“What do you care about, Ansel…?” he says, staring right through me, his eyes glazing over.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I mutter, looking at him.
“I cared about being a part of a nation that was founded under the ideal of peace. A nation so intelligent and cultural that it spread across a continent and united lesser people. Eventually just…absorbing them. Letting them all become Aryan…” he whispers to himself.
“When I lived in Germania there was a sense that I was a part of something special. The great domes and the mossy pillars held an awareness of history. It all did. I wanted to help preserve that culture. I joined the Knights. Paid my dues, serving in the Kiln…I thought that this place wouldn’t be much different than Germania…that the Reich could do no wrong…”
We sit in silence. The old man shifts uncomfortably.
“Then I saw you break that girl’s arm. I saw you smash that Jew’s face in, how you ignored me…just so you could serve some vendetta against them,” he mutters.
“Wait a minute—” I say, but he cuts me off, wanting to finish. My fists clench.
“I started thinking about what the point of the Kiln even was…why would we keep such a place that transforms normal Aryans into men who commit such acts…”
“Because they are Jews. They have always…”
“They. Aren’t. Jews.” Ulric says, pointing at the old man, “You know why I’ve been interrogating him? Something didn’t sit right with me. Ever since he showed me that cross and that book.”
The Atlantropa Articles Page 15
