SRU: All Hitler, All the Times... by: Jezzi Belle Stewart © 2001
Not too long ago, but in an alternate universe far, far away...
The Wizard was getting a little tired of good news. The headline on the daily paper read, "Greater Mid-East Zionist-Islamic League Sends Massive Aid to North Africa: Millions Saved". Pollution levels were at a record low, deserts were blooming, employment world-wide was up, the last execution of a criminal had been ten years ago and the prison population world wide was steadily shrinking, and etc., etc., etc., AND the Chicago Cubs had won the World Series last year! Booooooring. Still, he had to admit, it made for a great Universe in which to establish a base warehouse and R & R hideaway for himself and Dani.
He sighed, put down the paper and his coffee cup, and got up to rejoin Dani in the back storeroom, where they were doing their once a century overall inventory. Dani was working away at the far side of the large room that was crammed with boxes and packages and unwrapped items of all shapes, colors, and sizes. She was examining various esoteric items and checking them off in a massive inventory book. Not wishing to disturb her, he started in on the shelf nearest the door and furthest away from her. He snapped his fingers and a large inventory book similar to Dani's appeared. The only thing different was that his book was sitting on a tray balanced on the head of a small multicolored gryphon.
Adjusting his trademark frayed bathrobe, he reached for the nearest item. The gryphon chose that moment to squawk, startling him. His elbow banged into the shelf, dislodging several items and causing him to blast the gryphon with a mute spell. When he looked back at the shelf, he could see a package about three foot square and an inch thick wrapped in brown paper and tied with string wedged in behind it. *Good a place as any to start* he thought to himself and pulled it out. by the amount of dust on it, it had been there for most of the century since the last inventory. With a nagging feeling of recognition, he pulled it out and began unwrapping it. It was a painting; a VERY good painting.
An attractive dark haired young woman dressed in the fashion of the early twentieth century stood in three quarter profile to the left of an easel. Paintbrush in hand, She was critically examining a painting she had obviously just finished. Her painting was of an attractive dark haired young woman dressed in the fashion of the early twentieth century standing in three quarter profile to the left of an easel. Paintbrush in hand, She was critically examining a painting she had obviously just finished. Her painting was of an attractive dark haired young woman dressed in the fashion of the early twentieth century standing in three quarter profile to the left of an easel. Paintbrush in hand, She was critically examining a painting she had obviously just finished. Her painting was of an attractive dark haired young woman dressed in the fashion of the early twentieth century.... and so on. Down to the point where the portrait was the size of a postage stamp, the clarity was such that you could still see the hint of a smile on the young woman's face.
The Wizard smiled as he remembered. No wonder this universe was a good place to be, he had had a hand in creating it. The portrait was titled across the bottom, "Self-portrait" and it was signed, "A. Hitler".
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Seventeen year old Adolf Hitler strode angrily down the steps of the Vienna Academy of Art. Half way down he stopped and let his rage take over, manifesting itself in a clenched fist gesture toward the door that millions would recognize some years later. he shredded up the letter he held in his hands and tossed the pieces to the wind. "FOOLS!" he shouted back at the closed doors and then made his way to the street, traveling on auto-pilot as his thoughts circled and circled around this latest and potentially most devastating humiliation heaped on him by the Jews and socialists who made up the Academy's admissions board. REJECTED! They had had the nerve to reject HIM! And why? Why on a trumped up charge, of course. Not enough heads. And not enough detail on the few heads present. *
Truth to tell, the board's decision was a sound one. The young man's heads and human figures did indeed lack detail. The fault, though Adolf did not realize it and was happy, in his own way, with his explanation of prejudice, was with the size of his hands - big - and his lack of fine motor control. Things that were about to change.
As he strode along, lost in his own bleak thoughts, he lost track of where he was going and when he again came back to the real world, it was as a result of tripping over a loose paving brick. Swearing, he glanced around and realized he was in a part of the city with which he was unfamiliar. His eyes came to rest on a curious little shop wedged in between a boot maker's establishment and a boarded up shop whose sign was faded beyond recognition. The sign over the curious little shop, however, was easy enough to read: "Spells 'R Us".
Since the store was different, Hitler didn't like it. *Probably run by Jews*, he thought to himself. At the same time he seemed irresistibly drawn to it. He opened the door and went in. He couldn't believe the clutter. It was in sharp contrast to the neatness imposed upon everything back home by his civil servant father. As he began to look at various items, he was startled by a voice from behind him. *How did someone get back there without me seeing him?* he wondered.
"By magic, young Hitler. I AM a wizard, you know."
And he did know. Adolf spun around. Standing behind him was a wizard right out of Nordic mythology. "You like?" said the wizard, giving a twirl. "I don't usually bother to dress up for my customers, but you, Adolf, are a rather special young man."
Adolf, who had been about to make an angry retort, changed his mind, as he secretly agreed with the wizard's spoken assessment of him. Some day, he thought, the world would know exactly how special he was. "Well," he stated, "You are certainly not Jewish, though that was my first impression. You have some unusual items here, but nothing, I think, of interest to me." he turned as if to exit the store.
The Wizard was impressed. No "How do you know my name?" or any of the other usual questions he got when people first met him. So confident in his own abilities that even though he'd instantly accepted the existence of magic, he felt he didn't need it. Arrogance there, but maybe somewhat deserved. Intelligence off the scale here, as well as charisma. The potential was great - whether for good or evil was yet to be determined. Sadly, the wizard knew that, across the space-time continuum of universes it would be both. But there was THIS universe to worry about at the moment. "I wouldn't be quite so hasty." he said. "I think I can help you with the undeserved rejection you experienced today."
Hitler didn't turn around, but he stopped. "Yes. I believe you can. Explain."
The Wizard was amazed at the power of the young man's words. He had been a certified top level wizard for ... well for more years than he cared to think about, and yet he found himself moving to obey the command obvious in the boy's voice. He moved to face him, a vial of clear liquid in his hand. "Go back to the Art Institute. You will find that the test has not yet been given. Drink half the contents of the vial. Wait 30 seconds, and then decide whether to enter and take the test or not. If you decide to take the test, drink the remaining contents."
"I do not need your magic to pass the exam." There was no doubt in the young man's voice. He had supreme confidence in his ability and believed he was the victim of discrimination. Maybe this Wizard would change the judges some way. The Wizard's next words confirmed that in Hitler's mind.
"No, no, of course not. All my magic takes place before you take the exam and does not affect your talent" Hitler missed the fact that the Wizard did not mention his ability.
"I am convinced you are not Jewish. I am not convinced you are not a socialist or some other undesirable element. If the results of this ... experiment ... are not successful, you will be hearing from me again." Adolf Hitler turned and left the store without a backward glance. The Wizard sat down, snapped a new cup of coffee into existence, and settled down to wait.
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Once again, young Adolf Hitler stood on the steps of the Vienna Academy of Art. He glanced at his wristwatch and was unsurprised to see that it did, indeed, show the time as four hours earlier. The exam had not yet taken place - would take place in fifteen minutes, just time enough for him to take his place in the exam room if he drank the contents of the vial now. New Aryan judges. Yes! He drank half the contents.
Changes whirled through his body: Butt and breast(s?!?) expanding; waist and male equipment shrinking; facial features changing, hair growing. Then his clothes: He watched as his shoes became high buttoned and heeled, his trousers fused to become a hobble skirt, his shirt and coat altered, darted to fit his new bust line, lace added to collar and sleeves. He could feel his new long hair lifting away from the back of his neck, arranging itself into what he somehow knew was the latest "Gibson Girl" style from America. She - for he realized that that is what he was now, a she - just knew Adolf's plain fedora was now completing it's metamorphosis into a lady's fashionable had adorned with feathers or some such. A GIRL! The damnable wizard had changed him into a girl! And he had 30 seconds to decide. Stay a girl and take the exam, or dash the vial to the ground and continue on as before - he somehow doubted he would be able to find the wizard again to make him pay for this humiliation - or was it a humiliation? Male and female archetypes moved through his brain wearing the faces of his mother and father. The prize he had come to Vienna to win was within his grasp, so what if he had to win it as a girl; he was the same inside ... wasn't he? - nagging doubt there. Testosterone images of the Aryan warrior rose up to battle the image of the artist. He/she was 50/50. She/he was on the edge.
In the immediate universe Adelade Hitler raised her slim right hand with it's narrow dexterous fingers and downed the remaining half of the contents of the vial. Back in the shop, the Wizard's immediate smile was tempered as he sensed that a shadow Adalade had used that same slim hand to dash the contents to the ground.
Thirty seconds were up. In the immediate universe and a number of others, Adelade Hitler ascended the steps of the Vienna Academy of Art into one future. In many other universes Adolf Hitler, remembering nothing of the last looped four hours, made the famous clenched fist gesture at the door of the Academy and marched off into another, darker, future.
The Wizard sighed. A split decision was better than All Adolf all the time.
Adelade would win a place at the academy, her slim and dexterous hands being able to execute the human heads and figures that so eluded the big-handed clumsier Adolf. Those hands holding a pen or paintbrush were her connection to humanity. Adolf lacked it and created Auschwitz and Buchenwald. With it, Adelade became a nurturing force for good, promoting through her art world peace and brotherhood. The same charisma and force of will that led Adolf to create and lead National Socialist Hell enabled Adelade to become the first woman president of United Europe. She embraced her quarter Jewishness and became the peacemaker between Arabs and the Jews in the Middle East.
The Wizard knew, as did most everyone, that late in life, Adelade Hitler had become a fan of American baseball, the Chicago Cubs, in particular. What everyone else didn't know was that Adelade had never forgotten a certain wizard and had sought him out with a strange request. What everyone did know was that the current manager of the Cubs, the one who had lead them to the World series, had the eccentric habit of wearing a fraying bathrobe to every game.
END
* Fact: In the fall of 1907, The Academy of Art in Vienna did reject the application for Admission of Adolf Hitler. The reason given was his lack of human heads and figures in his work. Hitler being one quarter Jewish is probably wartime propaganda, but I chose to treat it as fact for purposes of the story.
© 2001
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