[ WP ] Instead of killing him , a timetraveller tells Hitler how future generations will remember him .

Adolf Hitler is sitting in his office, minding his own business, doing his job as chancellor of Germoney, when a sudden gust of wind interrupts him and destroys his newest painting. 
 “ Scheiße! Who dared to open the window! ” he screams, half in German and half in English. 
 “ Ich will find this man, and make him into my next model! ” 
 
 But even such a strong threat can not stop our daring adventurer. He walks to the mustached man and says in calm voice. 
 
 “ My dear, dear Adolf. I came here from the future. And I am here to tell you how you are going to be remembered. And, oh boy, it ’ s not a very nice thing. ” 
 
 Adolf smirks at his remark, and a smile can be seen creeping on his face. 
 
 “ Oh, really? Do you think I don ’ t know what future generations will think of me? I do well know. I will be remembered as dictator, murderer and someone who almost wiped out entire race. Do you really think you are the first to travel through time? ” 
 
 Even if this remark is surprising to the traveler, he doesn ’ t let it to be seen. He keeps his poker face, not showing any kind of emotion. 
 
 “ No Adolf. I know I ’ m not the first one. But I hope to be the last one. ” He pauses, and walks up to destroyed painting. “ That ’ s… quite interesting. ” This is the first time his face changes. His eyebrows rise, and his forehead freckles. Those painting are disastrous, and even he can see it. No wonder they didn ’ t take him into the art school. “ You painted that, didn ’ t you? So you are an artist, I see. ” 
 
 Hitler replies suspiciously, carefully thinking about each word. It ’ s the first time anyone inquired about his art. 
 
 “ Yes, I would call myself an artist. But why do you ask? How is it supposed to stop me from doing my deeds? ” 
 
 Meanwhile, the adventurer makes himself comfortable by sitting at the only chair that survived his arrival. 
 
 “ You see, ” he begins, hoping that his years of preparations did not go to waste. “ in the future – not that distant, mind you – people will be able to communicate across the whole globe in the matter of mere seconds. Can you imagine such a thing? ” he asks, but doesn ’ t wait for reply. “ And we call this system < < The Internet > >. It is great way for artists – just like you! – to post their stuff, so that other people can see it. And, you see, I am an artist myself. I create art in words, simply put, I write. But my imagination, you see, is not very good. So I have to rely on others to provide me interesting prompts to write about. So I joined the community of inspiring people. And, you see, it was a great adventure at first! So many different inspiring prompts! So many plots and stories to be shown, not told! ” Eyes of traveler sparkle, as he remembers the “ Good ol ’ times ”. But now is no time for that. 
 
 “ But you see Adolf, then something happened. At first, no one would mind it. One or two prompts a week about you, in some alternative history. ” Adolf visibly blushes as adventurer says the last sentence. “ But then, it only got worse. When I left my home, in the year 2025, there were exactly two hundred million eighty five thousand and five hundred one prompts about you. Can you imagine how killing for creativity, for art it is? You see, now no one creates anything new. It ’ s just the same old stuff, over and over again. And I just can ’ t take it! Adolf, please, you need to… ” 
 
 Suddenly, Adolf places his finger on his interlocutor ’ s mouth. 
 
 “ Say no more ” he says, and takes his paper knife out of a drawer in his desk. He puts the blade near his skin, and then suddenly launches his arm in the direction of another speaker. The blade went deep into adventurer ’ s throat. His eyes widen with fright and face grows pale. The feeling of utter failure overwhelms him when he finally understands that he let the future down. 
 
 Adolf takes the knife out of the body, and lets blood spill on the carpet in his office. 
 
 “ Scheiße. Where is this world heading? Man can no longer do his work in his office, without having at least five time-y wimey-y travelers come and talk about morals. ” 
 
 As he ends the last sentence, another gust of wind sweeps inside his room. 

