On the third hole, Hitler launched his drive 50 yards farther. His power was coming from somewhere. Gregson noticed it, like the sun going behind cold mountains—magical and mighty, transcending humanity—ever more dangerous, because it only cared about power.

“Fuck society,” Hitler said. “A society at peace, is a society not worth having.”

“Everybody is trying for the quiet life,” Gregson said. “It’s a life I can’t stomach.”

“Why?” Hitler asked, intrigued.

“People are trying to be the same. Their houses are the same—their clothes are the same—their mannerisms, and tastes are wholesale. They go to university, and they golf like they have arrived, but they don’t dominate anything. They don’t explore what they don’t know. They are afraid of being different.”

“You sound like me,” Hitler said. “A society at war, is a society where great men can salute each other.”

Gregson knew he was going to lose against Hitler. The man had strength. They got onto the green in regulation, and Hitler sunk his 30-foot putt.

“How do you do that?” Gregson asked. He two-putted for par.

“I have the power of hermits and priests, running through my blood,” Hitler said. “You know, Gregson—you remind me of me. I can’t kill myself. We think the same. I am three-strokes in the lead, so you will have to tell me my mistakes in history—otherwise, I won’t be able to conquer the world.”

“Your problem is, you want to make the whole world the same—you want to make people the same—you will do it through war—and you will bring about what you hate.”

“I’ve never thought about it that way,” Hitler said. “But we all have a destiny, whether or not we recognize it. Our lives are written in stone, and I have a need for power.”

“Do you believe the past can be changed, if time-travel is possible?”

“That would be my present,” Hitler said. “And nobody is going to change my destiny, but me.”