Gravitate

Near as I can tell, Kurt Petersen was born in a small farming village on the outskirts of Dresden in 1907. He showed up on the Health Ministry's records in November of that year, though a great deal of records from that era through '45 were lost during the second World War. What I know is this:

As with a large number of skilled, driven men, Kurt was noticed by people who would use his talents for their agendas. It's a story as old as history, and a cycle none of us can break. And from what he told me, he was good at it. I have no doubt that Kurt's potential furthered Germany's ascent to power, but I wonder what changed in him, and when.

He told me that he'd seen what his people were capable of, and when he spoke it was with the honesty of a man who wants nothing so much as to lose the knowledge he has. So maybe it was that shred of redemption that pulled him from his time to ours, or maybe some sense of karma. A good man who does bad things needs some kind of lesson to remind him that he is not his actions.

When I was sent to him, I believed it was because I understood that need for atonement, and I offered it to him. I could never absolve Kurt on my own, but he seemed the sort to find purpose in his work, and I wanted to think that the task we faced could give him that. Call it foolish to never wonder if he'd been close to anyone, and if he hadn't? To wonder how he might change when he did get close.

Natalya, I think, was a good outlet for him. She showed all the panic and uncertainty that he had to be feeling, adapting to this life. She was his chance to protect with his strength, to nurture. When she left, I could see the strain on him. He was willing and able to work with me, but the zeal was gone. His reason was gone.

I told him once that we all needed to find the sun in our own universe, the force that we gravitate towards. So I shouldn't have been surprised when he was gone, pulled in Natalya's wake and needing to feel human again. I shouldn't have been so arrogant as to think that the weapon would give him purpose.

In the end, I think that only Kurt will know if his choice was right. Whatever need I have of him and men like him, the world's future is meaningless if he has no reason to fight for it. I hope he finds his sun again, I hope he basks in the light and lets himself smile. I hope he lives more tomorrow than he did in the thirty years before it.

I wonder if I'll see him again.