History Books

The book was closed on the presidents lap. His thumb was tucked between the two sides, holding his place for him to continue when he was ready. He was caught deep in thought about a passage he'd just read. It said that to truely 'know' history and what it means to 'learn' history was not the dates, the names, but to understand the forces behind the movements that lead to history. If only the history teachers of high schools new that! It would be a much more interesting subject. In the next passage it said that the Art of learning is to forget the unimportant things and remember the important ones; here too, Alistair couldn't agree more. It wouldn't matter if the children and young adults or whoever the student was, forgot the dates and the names, if they understood the concepts they'd still be able to navigate their way through politics and conflicts today. You have to understand something before you can have an opinion on it; otherwise you'll just follow the one with the prettiest words. Alistair found it amusing, in a dark way, that Hitler, quite frankly, ranted about 'how can people not care about politics and history' in Mein Kampf, a thought that had dominated Alistair's mind for years. How could people not care? Both politics and history had a grand impact on their lives. He knew many people who just jumped to conclusions, what FoxNews or BBC or any other mainstream media said; they believed it. And they didn't even dive deeper; not at all. But they still weren't afraid to voice 'their' opinion. How can it really be an own opinion if one hasn't thought about it? It's simply the opinion certain people wish you to have because it brings them some kind of advantage. He ran his hand through his greying hair. Will it ever be the majority who understands even just simple things about politics and history? Or will the greater parts of the populations only follow? 

He himself had said things; he'd refused to 'bad-mouth' the other candidates, he'd never spread a rumor or anything of the sort, and he'd never insulted anyone he'd run against; neither as mayor, or governor or president. He'd voiced his opinions, said if he found something good or not, but he'd never lashed out. Not like many did. But he'd done something else that every single politician has done. He'd promised things he'd known couldn't come true. They were simply impossible to achieve in four years time! He'd never promised something he didn't at least 'plan' to do, but still...he'd said some things in spite of knowing they wouldn't work so quickly. But he'd needed to say it to get elected. And it was better that he was president than some shmuck who didn't care at all, right? He was still doing good things for the climate, the economy, and of course, working for education and with that, against discrimination. 

He opened the book again, running his finger down the spine. It was a good book in many ways. Hitler's observations were correct and nicely put, simply the conclusions were off...

***

"You really think he knows something that we don't?" Goebbels asked Hitler. He sat with his legs crossed. The German dictator stood next to the fireplace, hands behind his back. He stared into the flames, almost as if reading them. He nodded slowly, showing that he'd heard what his friend and companion had said.m

"I do."

"Do you think he's a spy for America?" Goebbels asked. "I don't think so, but I couldn't say why."

"I don't think he's a spy either." Hitler confirmed after a few seconds. "I don't think he's working with anybody else. But he isn't telling us something, I know that. And he's quite strange...it's almost as if he knows everything about us but doesn't really 'know't it?"

"Sometimes it feels like he read about us in a history book." Goebbels added with a laugh, finishing Hitler's thought. Hitler looked up at his friend with an unplacable and dangerous glint in his eyes. 

"You're right. It's exactly that. He looks at us as if we were doomed, as if he knew exactly what outcome the war will have, what will happen to Germany...to Austria." He gazed back into the fire before he started to walk, pacing the room with his rigid steps. "Either he has an amazing understanding for history or he's a very good actor."

"All politicians are good actors, Adolf." 

"He's not a politician - wartemal - is he?" Hitler looked up in confusion. "Does he have a political background?"

"Anneliese told me that he'd worked as Mayor in the US. So yes, our translator and future KZ-Leiter is a politician."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"It never came up." The cool way the Reichspropagandaleiter stared at his Führer made the latter swallow his next words and think before speaking. 

"Next time something like this happens, Joseph, please tell me right away. I need to know everything about everyone..."

"You sound like Stalin." Goebbels said with a laugh. Hitler only cracked half a smile. The Russian dictator did have some similarities with him; they were both leaders of a regime that was strong yet fragile at the same time. In such a system one needed to know everything about everyone. 

"Is Eva here?" Hitler asked, his voice growing soft all of a sudden. 

"No, she left yesterday. She's gone back home." 

"Alright..." Hitler simply nodded his head stiffly. "I will write her." 

In his writing however, the german dictator was very different from Stalin. He was no poet, no man of beautiful words who could woo his women with carefully crafted love letters. But once in a while a pretty line would cross his mind and he'd jot it down to send to his beloved Eva.