Chapter One
Everyone I know tells me that I apologize too much and worry too much about what people think of me. I also have this tendency when it concerns my writing.
History fascinates me. One thing that particularly captivates me is the Holocaust and Nazi Germany. As disturbing as the idea is, the incomprehensible fact that people can be so inhumane to others just because of their race has its own level of attraction.
I do not support mass genocide or genocide at all. The reason I wanted to put a GMD character in Nazi Germany was because I could imagine him there. I thought the opportunity was too good to pass up.
I promise to remain true to any facts and events.
London, 1902
I passed a little boy on the streets being pushed around by some other little boys. "Dirty little Chink!" they yelled, throwing mud at him.
I took one glance at the little Chinese boy, who was trying his best to leave. He did not appear to know what the other boys were saying, but he seemed to understand that he was unwanted by them.
I pushed the scene out of my mind as I walked away.
In my throne room, I came upon a group of my henchmen in a heated debate. Normally such heated discussions are over women and money, but tonight the topic was politics. Bill had a copy of the Communist Manifesto in his hand, while Rafael was wielding a paper that I later found out was the American Bill of Rights. Rafael was going on about free speech when I came into the room. There was a general hush as all eyes turned upon me.
"What is going on here?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes.
"Ju- just a debate, Professor," Bill stuttered.
The unease in the eyes of the others was apparent from the look of shock on their faces. I relished the power I had over these blockheads for several moments, drawing out their anxiety.
"A debate? Really?" I said, turning to Rafael.
"Ye-yes," he stammered.
"And what are you debating?"
"Po-po-politics."
"Politics?" The room was deathly silent. I burst out laughing. "What do you two know about politics?" I howled.
Everyone hesitated; then joined in on the laughter, greatly relieved.
I stopped laughing. "What are you all giggling about? Stop this nonsense immediately and go do something useful!"
The laughter died down. "Did you idiots hear me? GET OUT!"
They scrambled for the door, pushing and shoving each other, each not wanting to be the last out.
When the last of my men had vanished, I let out a deep sigh. I played some Mozart on the gramophone, and then poured myself some champagne. I wearily went to my throne and sat down, massaging my eyes.
Being surrounded by a bunch of incompetent morons twenty-four hours a day does something to the nerves.
I simply tried not to think for a while. But my mind slowly drifted back to the Chinese boy on the street.
What did I care for a Chinese boy? Nothing at all. I wondered why he had been made the subject of ridicule. I supposed it was his Oriental appearance. I tried to push the thought out of my mind.
Instead I tried to concentrate on the Basil voodoo doll on the shelf. Why did I hate Basil? I tried to think of a single reason of why I hated him when another question popped into my mind. Would I hate him even more if he were Chinese?
No, I don't believe that I would. But the question continued to bother me. 'Well, what if he was Arabian? Or Jewish? Or African? Or French?'
I listened to Mozart as I fought to overcome the question in my mind.
'No, I wouldn't hate him! I hate him for himself, not for his nationality.'
'But is there the slightest chance that you would?'
The music began to fade...