Baby Hitler

I've got a great idea for a short story. You know that facetious theoretical hypothetical question about being a time traveler, and whether or not you'd go back in time and kill Hitler as a baby?

Well, imagine there's someone, a University student, and he uses that question all the time, it's his go-to for when he meets new people, because he's the kind of numpty that thinks that sort of thing is deep, and this becomes a defining feature of him in a way, so he plays up to it, maybe people even start calling him "baby killer" or "the baby Hitler guy", some thing like that.

Now, years later he's grown up, he's met someone, and perhaps rather unexpectedly he's found himself fathering a child, a little adorable baby of his own, a cute apple-cheeked son.

So here he is, helping to nurture and raise this child, but slowly that question from his past comes back into his mind...

Sure, it's just a baby, but it does seem to scowl at him in a strangely threatening way, and it kicks at its mum - just as it did from the inside - and claws at her skin with surprisingly sharp nails. It seems to be possessed of - even though it can't possibly mean to - a single-minded determination to ruin the peace and calm of their lives in a way that, to him, seems unlike any other normal baby could.

As it grows older he begins to notice it subtly bullying other children, not understanding simple things like sharing, or that playtime shouldn't involve a wallop to the other kid's face, but, it's barely a toddler, surely these things are accidental? Surely...?

So, this guy starts wondering to himself again; "Maybe my baby is Hitler? Well, not the Hitler, but a Hitler equivalent and that, if left to continue down its path, it will inevitably become a genocidal monster?" He reassures himself that this isn't a question of bad parenting, he's positive of that, he doesn't treat his son badly or anything, he and his partner shower their love upon this child, they dote on it, they coo at it, they adore it, but still it seems that this child could  very well grow up to be the embodiment of pure evil.

Now, back in his Uni days he was always so certain, so sure of himself, of his answer to that question which he revelled in posing to every and anybody who happened to be down at the Varsity pub that evening. How he'd paint the scene; describe this adorable little cherub to them and then - he'd even mime this part out - place an imaginary revolver in their hand and point it towards that baby's head and ask:

"So, would you shoot baby Hitler?"

They'd say no. They'd say that maybe they'd try and encourage a better environment for the child. He'd argue back about the certainty of fate in this instance, that no matter what you tried to do this baby would become the Hitler of history, and that the only way to possibly prevent that would be to shoot this infant in the skull. Splatter its curious brains across the crib.

It was around now that people would either call him a sicko or ask him what he'd do, and he'd lean back confidently, announce how he'd definitely shoot baby Hitler, and take a swig from his bottle of cheap lager, satisfied with himself.

But, as far as he could tell, here, in the present, he was staring into the wet eyes of his own psychopathic offspring and he had now become the other person in his discussion, the one reasoning that things aren't so definite, that destiny and fate are nonsense, that nobody is born bad, that you can't know the future and that time-travel doesn't exist, so how could you ever know for sure, and even if you did know for sure why would murder be the answer? How could that possibly be the just thing to do?

So he didn't do it.

He didn't kill his son, even though that question kept returning to him over the years, as his boy moved from crawling to toddling to walking to running, passed exams, joined teams and clubs, got involved, developed a personality, became a person, became a man, and then...

Yeah, his son started a fascist group that brought about the deaths of millions upon millions of people, tens of millions actually. In fact, he was roundly regarded as being worse than Hitler. After him Hitler wasn't even the go to name for genocidal monsters anymore, no, it was his name they used, and when idiots in University towns posed the 'would you kill baby Hitler' question to friends and strangers they didn't say Hitler anymore, they said... well, yeah, you guessed it... him.

So, that's the idea for the story, pretty stupid really, and I'm not sure what the moral is... Is it; if you suspect your child might grow up to be evil then you should kill them? Or is it, more simply; kill all children, y'know just in case? I'm not sure, and I don't know if I could rationalise writing a story that seemed to justify either of those conclusions.

Hopefully it's more positive than that and does suggest that there is no absolute certainty with regards to the ultimate destination of our lives, but I think that's over-thinking it, anyway, not sure if I'll bother writing it, might do, one day, though it's not my top priority, besides I've got a new baby to look after...