The Giza Death Star Revisited: A New Steemit Novel Chapter 31
The Giza Death Star Revisited: A Novel Based on the Work of Joseph P. Farrell
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Chapter 31
Back in Bariloche, Müller and Edda entered the hall Kammler, Bormann, and the other gray old men had prepared. Red, black and white streamers hung from the chandeliers, the walls were draped with rich matching tapestries, and a long banquet table was laid with a luxurious white tablecloth and the finest tableware. A large banner hung over the door proclaimed, “Alles Gute zum 100. Geburtstag!!” Happy 100th Birthday in German.
Müller issued a great belly laugh upon seeing the sign. “May I live so long! I think someone has made a mistake with their math!” He kept laughing.
Kammler and Bormann broke away from the old men mingling inside and came to the door to greet them. “Herr Müller! Fraulein Siebrecht! You made it! It’s so good to see you both safely back in Bariloche! Our little sign no doubt has amused you.”
“No doubt,” echoed Müller. “But whenever I see something this out of place, I can’t help thinking you devils are up to something,” he laughed while wagging a finger at them.
Kammler and Bormann shared his laughter. “Indeed. We have a surprise for you. But first, let’s eat. Surely you must be famished from such a long journey.”
Müller was given the place of honor with Edda to his right and Kammler and Bormann flanking them. The other 50 guests sat around the table, and it was a veritable who’s who of Nazis in South America, and a few from elsewhere. They were served a magnificent feast of venison, wild boar, and salmon. This of course was topped off with birthday cake and a round of “Happy Birthday” and “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” as well as an assortment of old German songs, including of course “Die Wacht am Rhein,” which readers may recall from the movie Casablanca.
At the appointed moment, Herr Bormann called out, “Achtung! Achtung!” and gathered everyone’s attention. “And now, we have a special presentation in honor of our birthday boy. If everyone would please direct their attention to the screen that is now being lowered.”
As the film opened, heroic music swelled within the room and a deep-voiced, passionate male narrator began the story to old and rare family photos that faded in and out as the camera panned over them.
“This future hero of the Third Reich was born on June 12, 1908. If he were alive he would be turning 100 years old today….”
Müller dropped his jaw in astonishment. He immediately knew who they were talking about for he had studied his favorite hero carefully and with a perverse affection and endearment that can only be fathomed by the dark hearts that harbor it.
The film went on to recite with movies and stills the life of the abominably great Otto Skorzeny, which was already rehearsed at the beginning of this book. It even contained secret closely-guarded home movies of his post war life which included some, shall we say, very warmly affectionate footage of Skorzeny with Eva Peron at a garden party, and again on Christmas, and on a beach trip, that weren’t quite scandalous.
The narrator went on, now more seriously, “What is not well known is that ‘The Long Jumper’ and Her Excellency had a son, in secret. Due to the nature of the relationship and their public standing, it was necessary that the child be raised in secret as well. He was given to a family of German emigres in Osorno, Chile to raise as their own.
“They named him Otto, after his father and gave him an excellent upbringing.” At this point Müller bolted upright in his chair and became utterly fixated on the film. It continued on in an effusively wholesome and nauseatingly innocent version of This Is Your Life of the born and bred Nazis of Patagonia.
“With a little assistance from the Deutscher Verein, Otto Müller was able to obtain the best education and attend the best universities. He became a successful businessman and prominent member of the German diaspora in South America.
“In 1975 he married Heidi Schnellenkamp, and on June 12, 1976, the loving couple gave birth to a son they named Rheinhart.” The music swelled with emotion as Müller burst into tears of joy, and in one of the few genuine shows of affection in her life, Edda put her hand on his shoulder.
The narration continued, “Reinhart was given a modest and humble upbringing but his grandfather’s spirit impregnated and saturated his being. Despite his modest childhood, he dominated his peers and rose through their ranks to show that he was every ounce the man his grandfather, Otto Skorzeny, was.” A heroic image of Skorzeny froze on the screen and the music slowly crescendoed.
“Rise, Reinhart Müller. It is on this occasion, we reveal and mystically reunite you with, your sacred heritage.”
Müller rose, and his figure, illuminated by the projector, merged with the image of Skorzeny on the projector screen. Kammler and Bormann rose ceremoniously to which the assembled company responded in kind. One of the old men produced a vial of thick red liquid with a miniature tag tied around the lip that read “Skorzeny.” He removed the cap and lifted a goblet of wine into which he dripped a few drops of the precious fluid. Holding his hand under the foot, he carefully made his way to Müller and formally offered it with both hands.
Müller, somewhat in awe and somewhat confounded, took the vessel in both hands. While gingerly holding the glass, he soaked in the assembly as if it were an intoxicating aroma, the warm glow of a fire, a spirit that rushed in. Then with a determined breath, he imbibed the liquid. He put down the glass and stood to accept their approval, with the film’s image indistinguishably intermingled with his own visage, and the shadows of the Nazi leadership behind him.
The gray old men and their minions applauded and cheered what they betook for a true transfiguration, and Müller believed it too.
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