A Quiet Day in Austria
It was a quiet day in Austria. Well, it was sunny in Vienna, at the very least, but the weather was probably similar everywhere – it wasn't a big country. Nowadays, that is. The old Austria was the heartland of empires, and its many rulers lived by the principle of A.E.I.O.U., never forgetting their mission to expand the nation's imperial glory. It wasn't until the Great War's end that vultures would come to feast upon Austria at its most vulnerable. The treacherous Czechs, the ungrateful Magyars, the scheming Italians… and, of course, the Allies, the Entente powers, all deathly afraid of Austria and Germany coming back together. That last suspiciously specific detail was enforced even further after the Second World War, and unfortunately, as painful as it was to admit, the public accepted this injustice. They accepted an inferior, toothless vision of Austria, as a sort of cheaper Switzerland. They were glad to live in a warless, decadent world, in which men would inevitably grow weak and decay. Despite everything her mother taught her, Wilhelmine could easily see that most men were not the brave protectors of the Fatherland they were supposed to be. Modern men, egregiously so. A part of her wanted to scream: "Let the women take charge, then!" The Archduch*ess, Maria Theresia, was certainly one of her country's greatest rulers, great enough for one of the most beautiful squares in Europe, the Maria-Theresien-Platz, to be named after her. Of course, this was but a moment of weakness, a silly thought born out of a scorned woman's desperation. If modern men would not, could not lead their nation to greatness, she would bring back the ones that did just that. Maria Theresia was a great ruler, yes. But the country needed its greatest one to break free from this disgraceful existence.
Wilhelmine smiled in thought, still unwilling to rise from her bench. Another moment of weakness, how pathetic. Her old bones didn't care much for long walks, and the tender, warm rays of sun were akin to the finest ointment for the elderly woman's aging, wrinkly skin. Going through the contents of her purse for a minute, Wilhelmine took out a bag of candied violets, treating herself to the most perfect sweets in the world. Perhaps… perhaps she could allow herself to rest here for just a little while longer. Sighing, she closed her eyes, concentrating on the chirping of birds, the sounds of cars in the distance, the pleasant touch of a breeze.
And then this harmony was unceremoniously ruined by the most cacophonous, uproaring, disgusting form of laughter in the world! Scowling, she opened her eyes to witness a horde of ugly Reds, uncaring tourists from the cursed Communist hellhole of China, rushing towards the statue of the Archduch*ess. Without a care in the world, especially about the feelings of the Austrian Germans, the owners of this land, the Chinese chattered loudly in their strange China-babble, taking pictures of everyone and everything with their cameras, never bothering to ask people for permission. Truly, with the Reds coming here and acting as they please, Austria was ruined! After no less than three little Chinamen snapped a picture of her, before hurrying away at the sound of their guide's voice, Wilhelmine had enough. With a huff, she rose from her comfortable seat, clutching her purse and keeping it close to herself, lest any whippersnapper tried to take it, and did her best to ignore the terrible ache in her ankles. She marched away with as much dignity as she could muster in the presence of these unceremonious invaders. Her own fault for trying to have some rest at a tourist trap, she rationalized.
She didn't have to walk too far, but every step was painful for her in the last few years. If only there was a way to take her mind and move it to a younger body – like the one belonging to that awfully-dressed young lady walking down the street with a Turk chaperon. It's not like that one is using her brain anyway! Alas, for now it sounded more like fantasy than a real possibility, but who knows? It was almost impossible to predict what new inventions were being developed in secret. Long ago they were national secrets, genius paths to greatness for all, but nowadays it was cutthroat capitalism that dominated science and technology. Without a strong hand to take control of the left and the right, nations of the world fell to either poorly-planned socialist "experiments", or cultureless corporate cronyism. And the one and only sensible system, one beneficial to the population, not just to the state or the corporations, was widely considered humanity's greatest mistake. It would not be like this forever, of course. Things change. Walking down the Museumplatz and then Getreidemarkt with newfound determination, Wilhelmine slowly arrived to her intended destination: Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. Beaming a smile to the security guard and showing her card at the front desk, the aging woman passed by all the various school staff moving in the corridors, blissfully ignorant to what was really transpiring underneath this famous alma mater for some of Austria's finest artists. Finally, Wilhelmine made it down the steps, walking into a barely lit underground level storeroom. The brightest source of light was the storeroom manager's table lamp, allowing the man to read his newspaper in peace. Hearing the older lady's steps, his gaze rose from the paper, eyes sparkling in a glimmer of lamplight. Putting the paper away, he tried to give her the warmest of smiles: "God's Blessings, Frau Ovarni. Have you come to check on the old man again?" She returned the smile, coming closer to the man, caring little about personal boundaries. She leaned over to his ear, and whispered but two words, her warm breath jolting him like a shock of electricity.
"Heil Hitler"
Trading his easygoing smile for a perfect "poker face", the employee quickly and efficiently punched in the necessary security codes, rose from his seat and, after a retinal scan, pulled a lever hidden in a secret compartment inside the wall. At the far right side of the room the seemingly decorative wooden planks slid to the sites, opening another, much narrow corridor. As the woman made her way to the hidden door, the man kept his gaze at the door she came from, his left hand moved closely to another secret container, this one with a gun at the ready. As soon as she disappeared in the darkness of the underground corridor, the man immediately close the pathway, before sighing and returning to his newspaper.
Dr. Wilhelmine Ovarni couldn't help but grin in mockery. A few "donations", a little paper-pushing, and some threats from her influential friends, and the Academy's underground was turned into the Fourth Reich's off-the-books lab. It was certainly poetic justice that an institution that rejected Austria's greatest son twice was now used by those working in his name. Quite possibly, it will be underneath this very Academy that Adolf Hitler will come back to life, to lead Austria, and all the Germans once again. Of course, Wilhelmine had her doubts that the Fourth Reich's benefactor in this endeavor held the same ideas as herself. Oh, he would reference his old collaborationist relatives, would offer words of sympathy about the unfairness of the Second World War, and talk about the virtues of National-Socialism, but she didn't see a Markovian ever becoming a true believer. Most likely, it was all to open some secret cache of Hitler's; the good Baron was eagerly searching for those lately. Nevertheless, he certainly tried to make a good impression, and his thoroughness was proving somehow too good for her own ability to finally complete the project. However, she couldn't help but agree with his specifications: after all, what was the point of making a perfect clone if it didn't have the original's memories, his charisma, his triumphant will? Whatever the Baron really wanted from this project, she intended for it to be a victory for National-Socialism, a signal for the great comeback, the rise of a Fourth Empire of the Germans. In its conception, the Third Reich was supposed to designate the post-apocalyptic reign of the Holy Spirit, but the Fourth Reich would be built upon superior science, with the Übermensch becoming greater than the Spirit, and rising above all lesser men. Reading scientific papers and news from overseas, Wilhelmine couldn't help but giggle at the pathetic attempts of the Americans trying to start a cloning program. Aw, the great S.T.A.R. Labs managed to clone a rabbit and a sheep, now isn't that cute? Their halfhearted approach to science, treating it as a business model instead of a solemn duty, made it certain that the greatest secrets would stay beyond their grasp. Let them make their fancy phones and decadent gizmos, while the German geniuses work to unlock the greatest mysteries of life. Luckily, their predecessors left them much to expand upon, with some of their works concerned with dabbing in the occult, and various scientific practices some consider unnatural.
"Dr. Ovarni!" – a young blonde woman hurried towards the doctor, rushing from the side corridor, – "You are just in time! We think the subject is exhibiting signs reminiscent of the clone donor. It is not confirmed right now, but it is possible that he is actually experiencing memories from his past life."
Wilhelmine thought to correct the young lady: after all, there was no such thing as a "past life". In layman's terms, the clone was its own person, not unless they were to somehow get a hold of Hitler's consciousness and "place" it inside the clone's mind. Of course, they were trying to amend that, from a certain point of view… So, in the end, Ovarni stopped herself from snapping at the assistant. The girl was bearing good news, something to finally lift up her spirits after that unfortunate experience at Maria-Theresien-Platz.
"Memories, you say? Could you give an example?"
The young woman nodded, "Dr. Ovarni, he referenced events that never happened to him here in this facility. He talked about the old films he watched once, the comedies. He wanted to see them once more."
Interesting… "What prompted this conversation?"
"He has been complaining about the movies he had to watch. Those documentaries that were assigned for his viewing… Some of them are typical Party political videos, but many are very unsettling. The subject does not enjoy them, at all. He sits through the movies like a chore, his expressions shifting between horror and disgust. He has also been noticing elements from those… unflattering videos appearing in the flash memory training exercises. Yesterday evening, he asked me to remove those images. Doctor, perhaps we should follow the subject's request? I can see why he would be unnerved by such material."
Sighing, Wilhelmine shook her head, before grasping her "second chin" in thought. "I can see the merit in this, but our benefactor has been very specific in his instructions from the day we started this project. Those videos come from him, and the subject is supposed to watch them every day. We have already seen the benefits of flash learning. Perhaps if the clone endures, as the man that he is based on did throughout his life, he will 'remember' even more. I am sorry, but we have to continue."
"But, Doctor, with all due respect, I must protest. His demands are counterproductive. It goes against the subject's psychology to achieve the results he wants. To take a gun and kill an innocent woman in cold blood…"
Yes, Delamb certainly isn't one for easy plans. Ovarni shrugged: "My dear, I see where you are coming from, but I simply cannot risk losing this project's funding. Besides, sooner or later the subject will have to learn how to free himself from the chains of mercy. This is, after all, what we're all working for, is it not? The Übermensch, who will lead us all…"
Whatever words she had to say never left Wilhelmine's throat, as both women gasped and flinched after hearing the distinct sound of a gunshot. Their eyes wide open, they ran as fast as they could towards the subject's containing chamber. Ovarni felt as if she was 40 years younger. Her thoughts were all over the place: hope, fear, excitement, the triumph of will. Could she finally make a breakthrough? Perfect not just cloning, but memory warping? Restore the greatest leader in history to his rightful glory? Her heart beating incredibly fast, Wilhelmine rushed for a meeting with her destiny.
Adolf was gasping for air. He did not want to, but it was a reflex that no man could stop. It was a stupid mistake that led to this. He should have aimed for the head. It was scarier, messier, maybe, but it would be quick. Perhaps there'd be little pain at all. Right now, he was shaking, he did not feel his legs, and his left hand was red with blood.
His blood.
Adolf was still seeing what was going on around him. A young woman, the one that brought him food, and made his bed, and comforted him every time he watched those awful films, her name… her name was Sara. As soon as he fell to the ground, she went in shock, and never stopped crying over him. She shouldn't cry. He wasn't sure why she did this at all, why did she work work for these people. Did she not know who they were? Did Sara not understand what was going on? Neither did Adolf, for a time. But the more films he watched, the more images flashed before his eyes, the better he understood. This was a lair for the worst of humanity. And they saw Adolf as their beloved, if slightly confused, leader. The one that started this rage against the heavens in the first place. The one, whose will turned people into these… monstrosities. They wanted him to be this man, they wished for the return of the king. Well, they were about to be thoroughly disappointed. In truth, he was a prisoner, of course, and he could understand why – for the first weeks of his conscious life he was but a child with the body of an adult. He was learning quickly, very quickly, and his developed body accommodated for the rapid shifts in what he perceived as consciousness. He wasn't sure what was happening, but after some of the latest "memory flash" exercises, he actually started to see… memories. Happy memories, memories that had nothing to do with the horrors he was being shown on video. He 'remembered' the picturesque landscapes of Austria and Bavaria, the fine architecture of Berlin, the view from his lovely "Eagle's Nest". He reminisced on the dog he never befriended, the woman he never kissed, the painting he never finished. One day, it dawned on him. If the happy memories could come back, so could the awful ones. He could not allow this. Whatever the case, he had to stop this man, this Hitler. At first he considered manipulating the Nazis. They thought he was their boss, didn't they? As such, he expected them to follow his commands. Adolf decided to test his hypothesis, ordering a Nazi scientist to change the movies for his viewing. No luck – the scientist woman only mumbled something under her nose after he told her to bring comedies instead, before disappearing for the night. He could try playing along, Adolf rationalized. He could pretend to watch their videos, make sure they believed him to be Hitler, not some "patient", and then destroy their organization from within.
But then he realized what exactly their "test for proving whether he was truly Hitler" was. The pistol, always placed upon the small stool near the screen, loaded with one bullet. Suddenly, it clicked. They weren't showing him those horrible films because those were the ones that Hitler liked (on the contrary, and he would attest to that). They weren't trying to unnerve him, to make him feel uncomfortable. The films had one message. The ones with the Star of David, the Jews, were to be killed, murdered, tortured, destroyed. The ones with the Swastika, the Nazis, were to do so. Every time he saw Sara, she wore the Star. And the armband she always had him wear around his hand? The Swastika. It was an invitation to cold-blooded murder.
He had one bullet. One bullet only. He knew he wouldn't be able to help Sara escape.
He knew he had to stop Hitler from coming back.
"I am sorry, Sara," was the last thing he said before finally closing his eyes.
"Dr. Ovarni, I am sorry!"
The lab assistant girl was crying, the imbecilic Jewish handmaiden was bawling, the siren was wailing for some reason, and Adolf Hitler was bleeding all over her shoes! Was she the only person capable of rational thought!? Was it so hard to remain in control? What a foolish display of emotions this was! Wilhelmine sighed, rummaging her purse for the damn recorder. Her legs ached from all the running, her heart did not feel very good, and her hands were trembling. Nevertheless, she took out the device, and clicked the play button. As usual, she stated the date, the day of the project, the number of the entry, all the while trying to ignore the hysterical women around her. With the preliminary part finished, she moved on, remembering the simple statement she was obligated to make for this entry:
"Subject 14 has just self-terminated. We are starting to look at a tendency. This case is scheduled for team analysis, before proceeding to Subject 15. End of entry."
Didn't sleep again, but I had to finish this while the muse was around!
This omake was mostly inspired by the story from Adventures of the Outsiders Vol 1 35 "Sympathy for the Fuhrer" by Mike W. Barr, so much that I could probably call it an adaptation. This plot is only one of the ongoing threads in that Outsiders adventure, but it concerns Baron Delamb hiring a Nazi scientist to clone Hitler to open a hidden vault. Not content with just that, the Baron insists on showing the clone terrible videos of the Holocaust, hoping that it'd be inspire him to take a pistol and shoot his Jewish maid. Instead, the clone witnesses what kind of monster he could become, and takes his own life. I always wondered what was going in his head and that point, and was also interested in Dr. Ovarni (whom Delamb so "eloquently" names 'Madame Ovary' – which is a real surname in Hungary, apparently), who is shown to be very much a supporter of violent, "strong hand" dictators, idealizing both Hitler and Delamb in the comic – although her Hitler is her "true north", of course. She is a very villainous character, and it was certainly weird to give her the rationalizations she needs for her whole worldview to keep functioning. For the starters, Hitler was a total Prussiaboo, despite being born in Austria… Notice how Ovarni never bothers to mention anyone's name – she doesn't even care much for her . Absolute tunnel-vision coated in racism and delusions of grandeur.
