by John Shirley
“Oh, that,” said a guard with no show of emotion. “The Fuhrer assures us that we can shoot down the Allies’ planes whenever we want.”
“If you can, why don’t you?” asked Eleanor. “The whole city is ablaze.”
“The Fuhrer has explained that he only lets the bombers through to save money on electricity. You have no idea how expensive it is to light a modern city at night, Fraulein.”
Eleanor and Einstein exchanged knowing looks.
“I just saw the two of you exchanging knowing looks,” said a guard. “What do they mean?”
“They mean we agree that you’ve found a cost-effective way to light your city,” said Einstein.
“It also saves us the cost of maintaining our streets,” said the guard. “You know—painting lines down the middle, filling in potholes, that sort of thing.”
“It does?” said Einstein curiously.
The guard smiled and pointed to a series of recently made craters. “No more streets. Now that money can be directed to other enterprises.”
Einstein turned to Eleanor. “I’m surprised the war is still going on,” he remarked.
“As soon as we find an economical way to cure eight hundred thousand cases of frostbite on the Russian front, we should finally have this war under control,” said the guard.
“So you see, you’re wasting your time,” added another guard. “The war is all but over. Why chance having a gorgeous creature like your companion get torn to shreds by thirteen giant super Aryans?”
“Right,” chimed in a third. “My apartment is just in the next block. We could stop there right now. You could sit in a corner and bury your nose in a book, while we and the little lady are having a party.”
“What did you call me?” demanded Eleanor.
“The little lady,” repeated the guard.
A tear rolled down her cheek. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in thirty years.”
“So how about the party?” persisted the guard. “Are we all agreed?”
Eleanor uttered her semi-magical three words, and suddenly the truck picked up speed and headed straight for Gestapo headquarters.
Himmler entered the huge subterranean chamber, clapped his hands together, and called for his super Aryans’ attention.
“They’re on their way,” he announced. “They’ll be here any minute. I want you looking your best and most formidable. Line up.”
“How?” asked Adolf.
“In a straight line, of course.”
“I mean, by what criterion?”
“Numerically.”
Heinrichs 1 through 12 lined up in numerical order.
“Where do I go?” asked Adolf.
“Just stand at one end or the other,” said Himmler wearily.
“Which end?”
“I don’t care!" yelled Himmler.
Heinrich Number 8 raised his hand. “Excuse me a minute,” he said, walking toward the bathroom with increasing haste. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take his place,” said Himmler.
“But my name doesn’t begin with an H.”
“Just do it!” screamed Himmler.
Adolf shrugged, walked over, and stood between Heinrichs 7 and 9. “But I am in this spot under false pretenses,” he complained.
“I could have been a farmer,” muttered Himmler. “I was really good at milking cows and harvesting corn. I was happy sitting atop a tractor. The sheep and pigs never talked back to me. Mostly, I didn’t have to deal with a bunch of empty-headed super-beings.”
Heinrich Number 8 returned from the bathroom and approached his fellow Aryans.
“He’s in my place,” he whined, pointing to Adolf.
“Move to the end of the line,” Himmler told Adolf.
“Which end?”
Himmler pulled his revolver out of his holster and fired six quick shots at Adolf’s chest. They all bounced off.
“I’m invulnerable,” Adolf pointed out. “Shooting can’t hurt me.”
“But it makes me feel better,” replied Himmler, holstering his gun. “Now go the end of the line. And before you ask, the left end.”
“My left or your left?”
Himmler hurled his revolver at Adolf’s head. It bounced off and fell to the floor.
“I’ll get it for you,” offered Heinrich Number 3.
“Don’t bother,” said Himmler disgustedly, walking over to pick it up. “You’ll forget where you were standing.”
“On my feet,” said Heinrich Number 3.
“Why did I ever think Aryans were the Master Race?” muttered Himmler.
Suddenly a red light began flashing.
“They’re here!” said Himmler excitedly. “They should be entering this chamber in less than three minutes. Achtung!”
The thirteen super Aryans stood at attention.
“The forthcoming slaughter is what you were created for,” said Himmler, walking up and down in front of them. “I want you to show Big El absolutely no mercy.”
“Even if she begs?” asked Heinrich Number 11.
“She won’t,” Himmler assured them. “She’s made of sterner stuff. It’s your job to dismantle her and spread that sterner stuff all over the room.”
Heinrich Number 10, the one with the queasy stomach, put his hand to his mouth, then raced off to the bathroom.
“He’s just sensitive,” said Adolf apologetically.
“What about Little Al?” asked Heinrich Number 2.
“You leave Little Al to me,” said Himmler. “You guys just concentrate on Big El.”
“Not to worry, sir,” said Heinrich Number 4. “I’ll cut her heart out and eat it. I’ll decapitate her, gouge out her eyes, and use her head as a bowling ball. I’ll—”
Heinrich Number 10, who was just emerging from the bathroom, listened, groaned, and ran right back in, while Himmler found himself wondering how Geronimo or Shaka Zulu would have handled these problems.
“You’re not nervous, are you?” asked Einstein as the guards escorted them down the dark winding stairs to the Aryans’ chamber.
“Not in the least,” answered the closest guard. “It’s not as if I have to fight you.”
“I was talking to Big El,” said Einstein.
“Is my make-up smudged?” asked Eleanor.
“No.”
“And my hair’s not messed up?”
“Not a bit.”
“Then I’m not nervous,” she answered. “How about you, Little Al? After all, you’re going to be facing the notorious Heinrich Himmler while all I’m doing is fending off thirteen foul-tempered and invulnerable giants.”
“I feel sharp,” said Einstein. “And I’m getting close to the Ultimate Spell. Once I’ve got it, he’ll never know what hit him.”
“The Ultimate Spell?” asked Eleanor.
“Watch this,” said Einstein. He raised his arms, closed his eyes, and chanted “E equals NC squared.”
Suddenly all the guards’ pants vanished.
“Damn!” muttered Einstein. “I’m so close! I can feel it!”
“Can we have our pants back?” said one of the guards. “Herr Himmler is a stickler for decorum.”
Einstein shrugged. “I don’t know where they are.”
“We ought to get something out of this,” said another guard. “Say it again and make her clothes vanish.”
“Just be grateful I didn’t make you vanish,” said Einstein.
“You can do that?” said a third guard. “You’d be a handy guy to have around in case we get transferred to the Russian front.”
They came to a massive steel door. The lead guard opened it, and a moment later they were facing Himmler and his thirteen super Aryans.
“Finally!” said Himmler. “You have no idea how long I have waited for this moment!” He looked at the guards. “You’re not wearing any pants.”
“Neither are your supermen,” said a guard defensively.
“This is wartime. There are the usual shor
tages. We don’t have enough material to make pants for them. But you already had pants.”
“Look,” said Einstein. “If you guys want to argue, we can go out for coffee.”
“This is Berlin!” snapped Himmler. “You would go out for beer! However,” he added with an evil grin, “you are not going anywhere. Here you have come, and here you shall die.”
“That’s wrong,” said Heinrich Number 5. “It should be: ‘Here you have come, and here you shall stay.’ There’s a certain poetic unity to it that way.”
“I don’t know,” said Heinrich Number 7. “I think the problem was that he said ‘shall die’ instead of ‘will die.’ Somehow ‘will die’ sounds more definite, if you know what I mean.”
Soon nine of the Heinrichs were arguing the finer points of language, and Himmler turned to Eleanor and Einstein. “What will you pay me for thirteen giants with a collective IQ of 73?” Finally he turned back to the super Aryans. “Shut up!” he screamed.
They fell silent instantly.
“All right,” he said. “Are we ready to begin?”
Heinrich Number 9 held up his hand.
“What now?” demanded Himmler.
“How do you want us to fight her? All at once, or one at a time?”
“I hadn’t really considered it,” admitted Himmler.
“I have a suggestion,” said Einstein.
“Yes?”
“All they’re good for is fighting, right? So have a competition: let them fight each other for the right to face Big El.”
Himmler frowned. “I have a feeling there’s something exceptionally silly about that idea, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Suddenly Adolf stepped forward. “I will fight her,” he announced.
“Why you?” demanded Heinrich Number 1.
“Because I am unique. I am named for the Fuhrer, whereas you twelve are named for this insignificant little wimp here, meaning no offense, Herr Himmler.”
“Okay,” agreed Heinrich Number 1. “When you’re right, you’re right.”
“But you can lend a hand if things get hairy,” added Adolf.
“Are you calling me hairy?” demanded Eleanor furiously. “Let’s start right now!”
“Wait!” cried Einstein.
Everyone turned to him.
“What is it?” asked Eleanor.
“We can’t have them all piling on you if things start going well for our side,” said Einstein.
“And I don’t want you to be able to come after me if you actually survive and your blood’s up,” added Himmler. He turned to Einstein. “How shall we separate them?”
“The same way they separate the lions and tigers from the audience at a circus, I suppose,” replied Einstein.
“I agree,” said Himmler. “You two”—he signaled to Adolf and Eleanor—“stand over there.”
When they had moved where he wanted them, he turned back to Einstein. “Spell Number 1209?” he suggested.
Einstein considered it. “Make it 1209-A. We won’t need all the stools for the lions to perch on.”
They chanted the spell together, and within seconds Eleanor and Adolf found themselves in the middle of a steel cage some thirty feet in diameter.
“Shall the match begin?” suggested Himmler.
“A steel cage match,” mused Einstein. “I intuit an incredibly profitable commercial enterprise here once the war’s over.”
“May I proceed to tear her into small pieces now?” asked Adolf.
“Just you try it,” snarled Eleanor. “This is Big El you’re facing!” She drew her sword and faced him.
“Say your prayers, female!” bellowed Adolf, reaching out to grab her. She slapped his huge hand with the flat of her enchanted blade.
“Ow!” he yelled. “That hurt!”
“Not as much as it’s going to hurt when I cut your foul heart out,” she said, advancing toward him menacingly.
“Wait a minute!” yelled Adolf, backing away. “Fins! Fingers! Time out!”
“What is it?” demanded Eleanor.
Adolf turned to face Himmler. “You told us we were invulnerable!” he said accusingly. “I’ve never felt pain before, but from everything I’ve heard and read about it, that was pain!”
“Don’t be such a crybaby!” snapped Himmler. “You are fighting for the honor of the Aryan race!”
“Make her get rid of the sword!” whined Adolf. “Then I’ll fight her.”
Himmler walked over to where Eleanor stood and pressed his face against the steel cage. “I don’t suppose you’d consider relinquishing your weapon in the name of sportsmanship?” he said. “I mean, he doesn’t have one. That would make it a fair fight.”
“A fair fight?” she repeated. “He’s ten feel tall and all muscle!”
"All right,” said Himmler with a shrug. “We’ll just have to let it be known that the only way the Americans are willing to fight is when they have an unfair advantage.”
Eleanor stared at her sword, then carefully leaned it up against the bars.
“Prepare to die, female!” cried Adolf, launching himself at her.
A moment later he was flying across the ring, where he crashed into the bars and fell heavily to the floor.
“What the hell happened?” demanded Himmler.
Adolf frowned. “I bounced off her.”
A triumphant smile appeared on Eleanor’s face. “I forgot to tell you,” she said. “I’m armored in my righteousness.”
“Be subtle,” urged Himmler. “Use vectors and angles and misdirection.”
Adolf checked the pockets of his kilt. “I don’t have any of those things.”
“Then just use your superior Aryan strength and ruthlessness!” growled Himmler.
“At the same time?” asked Adolf.
“Just do it!” screamed Himmler.
Adolf began approaching Eleanor very carefully. This time, instead of blindly charging her, he reached a hand out to grab her.
“Ow!” he yelled, rubbing his jaw where she slapped him. “What did you do that for?”
“Don’t touch me there!” said Eleanor.
He approached her again, reached out again, and got slapped for his trouble again.
“Don’t touch me there, either!” said Eleanor severely.
Adolf made a T for “time out” with his hands, and walked to a neutral corner. “I’ve got to think this out,” he said.
“There’s nothing to think!” yelled Himmler. “You’re huge, she’s not. You’re muscle-bound, she’s not. You’re a man, she’s not. You’re an Aryan, she’s not.”
“Right,” said Adolf. “And I’m smart, and she’s not.”
“Well, you’re an Aryan, anyway,” said Himmler.
“I need a strategy,” said Adolf. “She won’t let me touch her in any of the usual places.”
“What do you mean—‘the usual places’?” said Himmler. “This is a battle to the death, not a Saturday night date!”
“What do you suggest?” asked Adolf.
“Snap her spine like a toothpick!” screamed Himmler. “Crush her skull like a walnut!”
“Oh my God!” moaned Heinrich Number 10, clutching his stomach. “I’m gonna be sick again!”
“All right,” said Adolf, working himself into a killing rage and facing Eleanor. “Now you’re gonna get it!”
When he was almost within arm’s reach of her, she looked down at his kilt and giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he growled.
“Your fly is unzipped.”
He looked down and she landed a powerful karate kick to his chin.
“I don’t have a fly!” he groaned as he careened across the ring.
“You know,” said Eleanor to Einstein, “I think there’s a distinct possibility that I didn’t need the sword or the outfit.”
“That wasn’t fair!” said Adolf petulantly as he got back on his feet.
“All’s fair in love and war,” said Eleanor.
“L
ove?” he repeated, puzzled. “What’s love got to do with it?”
“This is all a joke, isn’t it, Herr Himmler?” said Eleanor. “You’ve got the real super Aryans hidden somewhere else in the building.”
“Kill her, godammit!” screeched Himmler.
Suddenly Adolf’s gaze fell on the magical sword that rested against the side of the cage. He stared at it for a few seconds, then took a tentative step in its direction.
“Don’t touch it!” said Eleanor in severe tones.
“Why not?” he asked.
“It’s not yours,” she said.
“Oh,” replied Adolf, momentarily chastened. Then: "So what?”
“That would be cheating,” said Eleanor.
“Pick the damned thing up and cut her head off!” yelled Himmler.
“It’s not mine,” explained Adolf. “That would be cheating.”
“I absolve you. Now kill her!”
“I warn you,” said Eleanor. “Don’t touch it.”
“You can’t scare me,” said Adolf. “I’ve been absolved.”
“Do you even know what that means?” she asked.
“Sort of,” he said. “It’s kind of like being forgiven for staying up all night reading your father’s dirty magazines.”
“So you’re really going to pick it up?”
“Yes.”
“Even though it’s immoral to steal someone else’s sword?” she persisted.
He turned to Himmler. “What about that?” he asked.
“It’s your moral imperative to kill her!” ordered Himmler.
“Well,” said Eleanor, “you were warned.”
Adolf reached out and grabbed the sword. Instantly the room was filled with a crackling, buzzing sound—an effect that really bad 1950s science fiction movies would combine with static electricity a decade later, only this was both real and deadly—and he briefly glowed a brilliant yellow, then mauve, and then vanished.
Eleanor walked over, picked up her magic sword, and faced the twelve Heinrichs.
“Who’s next?” she asked sweetly.
“You!” said Himmler, pointing to Heinrich Number 1. “Remember that you’re fighting for the supremacy of Germany and the Aryan race. Now get in there and kill her.”
“Couldn’t we just cut cards instead?” asked Number 1.
“We don’t have any cards,” said Himmler.
