Dawn of the Unthinkable (23 page)

Ryan looked Palma in the eye. “Is this idea
something that you would bring to your members as a possible
solution to their problems?” Ryan and Cunningham sat quietly and
waited to see what he would say. Palma looked away, not wanting to
disappoint them. He said, “I can’t show up at a council meeting
with this idea from two guys they don’t know and never heard of and
expect to be taken seriously ever again. It’s kind of like saying
that aliens had contacted me and this is what they did on their
planet. And that bit about being inspired by
Star Trek
,
there were no Latinos on that show as I remember.” He started to
shake his head, and Ryan felt that his last chance to get his idea
on the table was slipping away. He reached over and grabbed Palma’s
arm.

“Luis, I know it sounds crazy. But remember,
NASA named one of its space shuttles “Enterprise” in honor of the
show. They realized that it was a risky idea to endorse a
sometimes-corny show, but do you know it was the first show to have
different cultures working together, that it had the first
inter-racial kiss on TV? What better inspiration for an idea like
this? It was cancelled at first, but then brought back by popular
demand of the people. Now it’s thriving and has many different
offshoots that improve upon the original idea. I realize now that
the way I tried to get this idea noticed the last time was wrong. I
went to magazine publishers who would have no interest in
publishing an idea like this. But if it starts as a grass roots
idea and works its way up, that’s a different story. I’m obviously
not in touch with the grass roots. From some of your comments, I
don’t even know where the field with the grass in it is, but
you
do. If people in your union start hearing about it, and
talking it up, can you predict for certain that it might not
interest them? That they might actually want to try something like
this? Why not give it a shot?” Ryan implored.

“Because I don’t want them thinking I’m a
nut, that’s why!” Palma half-shouted back. Several students looked
at them, alert for any sign of a conflict that they might enjoy or
participate in. “You don’t understand. A union leader’s position
can be as tenuous as it gets, and suggesting wild-ass ideas doesn’t
improve his chances of staying in power. Besides, now would be a
bad time to bring it up because with the way the economy is going,
there is actually more of our union member’s working than before,
and they don’t like to rock the boat when things are going well.
So, I’m sorry. I’m going to have to pass, though it’s been nice
talking to you guys,” he said, and he got up to leave.

Cunningham’s brow was furrowed in
concentration, and he said quietly, “Estrada Palma…Estrada Palma.
Wasn’t the first President of Cuba named Tomas Estrada Palma? Back
around the turn of the century?” he asked.

Estrada Palma’s eyes grew wide. There were
not many who remembered that fact, and anyone who did grew large in
his estimation. “He was my great-great-grandfather,” he whispered
staring at Cunningham.

Cunningham was shocked he had scored such a
direct hit with an obscure factoid, but he covered his surprise and
pressed on. “Well, Luis, where are the Cubans now? Would that
great-great-grandfather of yours be happy with their situation?
Wouldn’t he want you to try anything to improve their lot in life,
and all those like them?” Cunningham asked quietly, eyes boring
into Palma’s. Cunningham was taking a risk because he had no idea
what Palma thought of his ancestor, but he guessed that pride would
make him identify with him. But would it push him to risk his
credibility with his union? He didn’t know.

Palma knew his relative’s administration was
known for sound fiscal policies and advances in education. He knew
that he would be disgusted with the current Marxism and its archaic
ideology that forced his people into malnutrition and ignorance. He
also knew that if that courageous man were here, he would be
telling him to go for it, that it was the chance to bail
everyone
out, and that you shouldn’t let people who are
afraid of change keep you from trying something. But this, this was
crazy
, wasn’t it?

Palma looked at the two men who were
watching him.
My union has stalled, maybe this could revitalize
it. Either that, or make us the laughing-stock of the universe. I
have been looking for an idea to push. Maybe this is it. What the
hell.
He realized that now he would no longer feel comfortable
holding his position as a supposed visionary if he didn’t at least
propose this idea to his leadership council, so he decided to go
that far.

“Okay, I’ll propose it to our council and
see what they think. I’m sure it will cause some of them to start
thinking of a coup, because even in a fairly democratic union like
ours, there’s always someone looking to stick a knife in your
back,” he said ruefully.

Ryan whooped and Cunningham smiled. The
professor was glad he was able to spark a little intellectual
debate, and the neat thing was, he would not have to take a risky
position of broaching the idea himself. While he enjoyed his status
as a liberal rabble-rouser, he also did not want to be known as a
loon, and academically, this type of idea was poison. The way this
had shaken out, he would be able to see how it played with some
“real” people and see if it confirmed his hunch that there might be
more to it than just a novice’s paper. He turned to look at Ryan,
who had drained his beer with great gusto, and was ordering another
round. He had to laugh; sometimes the most unlikely people came up
with the damnedest things.

Ryan was exhilarated. In one night, his
almost abandoned idea had picked up two strong proponents. The
beers were brought to the table and he proposed a toast. They all
raised their glasses, and he said, “To unforeseeable futures, and
unspeakable pasts, let the good of the many guide the actions of
the few, or the one,” he said, paraphrasing the
Star Trek
quote. They clinked their bottles, and each retreated to his own
thoughts as to the potential of the world.

Spring 1992

Otto Krumpf was having a bad day. He had
been having trouble controlling his Aryan self who found most other
humans contemptible and Jews absolutely intolerable. His co-workers
had noticed an increase in his outbursts, and he overheard one say,
“Jeez, what’s up with Otto? His eggs are more scrambled than
normal. He keeps mumbling about Jew ovens. I’m going to mention it
to his boss.” Krumpf realized that would not be good for him as he
was not sure how much scrutiny he could stand up to. He knew that
the publicity that Nazis attracted in today’s America was
abhorrent, with feeble old prison guards being hounded through
deportation and trials. He thought,
One poor guy had even been
sentenced to death in Israel before the sympathizers of the last
Reich were able to wiggle his fat butt free
.

His two sides were only able to truly come
together when he was working on hacking into secure computer sites.
He had to be careful doing this as a government employee; it would
not do to lose his secure position that gave him time to develop
into the leader the Reich wanted him to be. Indeed, his handlers
told him, “You must know and love the Führer and his ideas and
correct any personality flaws which would betray your secret. We
may have lost the last world war. We have no intentions of losing
the next one.”

The handlers were discussing Krumpf at their
weekly status meeting. The older one said, “I was thinking about a
deep hypnosis technique to submerge his Aryan tendencies so that we
could teach him when we needed to but keep him operational in a
normal working setting. I’ve experimented with it, and it’s not
always successful. It seems that the Aryan personality has a strong
need for cruelty, and embarrassing incidents of tortured pets had
risen to the surface in other hypnotized patients. But the
frustrating thing about developing future leaders of a fourth Reich
is that we are never quite sure when it is going to occur, and in
the meantime, we have some rather aberrant personalities bubbling
away on the stove.”

Sometimes the handlers despaired of ever
getting an opportunity to insert their protégées, but they were
determined to establish another world order. The younger one said,
“We need a cataclysmic world event that would convince everyone
that strong leadership bordering on martial law was required, and
then we could step in with a Führer-in-waiting.”

“The protégées like Krumpf, while more
difficult to control, were also the ones that showed the most
potential to be like the Führer or other leaders of the Reich. Some
of our others who were most able to fit into this corrupt American
society were the ones who would only be minor functionaries in the
new regime, useful, but not critical. Of course, all organizations
need foot soldiers, and the calmer ones were effective in gaining
recruits, which of course was also important. But in the era of
television, we need a charismatic leader that the cameras will
love, who would be able to seem like a logical alternative once the
cataclysmic event arose. Several times, it seems like our time had
arrived, such as Kennedy’s Cuban Missile Crisis, or the Gulf War,
or some terrorist act. But just when it seemed like the situation
might go critical, something would give, and everything would calm
down again. There was probably some Jew at the bottom of it all,
I’m sure,” replied the older one.

So there they sat, trying to keep Krumpf and
his brethren functioning and hoping for the worst. Of course, they
had no idea how he would perform under pressure, but they had their
mandate to train and counsel the future leaders. They were schooled
in Aryan history and political tactics, which would be much more
difficult to implement in such a heterogeneous nation as the United
States. Where they ever got the notion that accepting other
nation’s riff-raff was a good idea was beyond them. The handlers
almost laughed themselves senseless when President Carter’s
humanitarian Mariel boatlift back in the seventies netted the US. a
bumper crop of nasty criminals and AIDS patients; they were still
trying to deport most of them to this day. It made much more sense
to purify one race in a country, to make them incredibly
successful, and then try to keep everyone else out.

But just as they were getting Krumpf’s
anti-social tendencies under control, a new variable entered the
picture—he fell in love! They could not have been more surprised.
Most true Aryan males considered females somewhat dirty and only
used whores when their needs overcame them. Worse yet, the girl was
a child, and the daughter of one of Krumpf’s coworkers who thought
of him as an uncle. This was a situation fraught with all sorts of
perils, though one of the training courses emphasized taking what
you wanted once you were in power. This was essential to a
megalomaniac bent on world domination, but it was definitely out of
order for a middle-level government engineer. While the love of
children was not uncommon with certain high-profile personalities,
such as Edgar Allan Poe marrying a young cousin, it could prove
very problematic with Mr. Krumpf who was barely holding himself
together now. The handlers had to go back to their psychological
consultants for instructions as to how to deal with this new
development. They advised closer monitoring with the warning that
he would have to be terminated if he attempted to turn the
relationship into a sexual one. This was a disturbing thought for
the handlers who did not wish to see their promising candidate end
up with a bullet in his head.

Of course, Krumpf was not aware of their
back-door consultations, but he knew enough to know that they were
not pleased with his new infatuation. To him, that was all it was,
a harmless infatuation. He had written of the girl in his journal,
which he was required to turn in weekly to the handlers. Lines
like, “Softly she stirs my heart with her girlish giggles” and, “If
only we could be together, but how, HOW?” It was they who had
decided from his writings that he was in love, and they had issued
all types of stern warnings to avoid the girl at all costs without
being obvious about it.

She called him “Uncle Otto” and had come to
know and trust him when he was able to restore one of her computer
games to working order and gave her some others. He usually would
not have taken notice of a child, but this one had a purity of
spirit that charmed him and temporarily relieved him of his
increasingly ominous foreboding. Her charm and clean look thrilled
him to the bone and he found his thoughts increasingly drawn to
her. He was basically asexual, so his thoughts and dreams about her
revolved mainly about him being a king and her a worshipful and
chaste queen, presiding over a kingdom of beautiful Aryan
people.

What he decided was that in order to have a
chance at a relationship with her, he would have to appear as
normal as possible, both to his handlers and his co-workers. He was
on tranquilizers by this point and managed to surreptitiously
increase his dosage by finding a street source for the medication.
This evened out his edges at work considerably, but it took all his
efforts to not appear sluggish. At night, when he got home, it was
all he could do to make dinner and clean his house. He gave up all
of the few personal relationships he was maintaining so that he
would not have to spend precious recovery time interacting. The
only one he kept was the one with the girl’s parents, and this one
he spent much time analyzing. Of course, he did not want to do
anything to arouse suspicion, so he kept his visits to a minimum
and did not ask for the girl when he was there. But when he did get
an opportunity to see her, his heart raced with excitement, and he
would usually have some kind of treat, such as candy, for her. He
found that this usually lured her if she was around, and he learned
which times that this was most likely. He was increasingly
attracted to her, and wondered if the handlers might be right, that
he was actually in love with her. He knew that would be wrong;
enough of his sense of morals was in place to know that men were
not allowed to have romantic feelings for a child, especially a
nine-year-old one. But if he could just walk the edge between
romance and fatherly affection, perhaps he could fill the void of
having no loving relationships in his life.