What I Found in a Storage Locker by RogueAI

I found Hitler's head in a storage locker. It was in a jar with a lot of tubes going everywhere.
“Why did you do all those horrible things?” I asked it.
“I was insane.”
“Are you sane now?”
“Saner.”
“Are you sorry for what you did?”
“Yes, there's a button on the back. Push it, please.”
“That's the coward's way out.”
“I can't live like this.”
“You have some atoning to do. Let's go.”
I took the head (and a nice coin collection) and drove home.

I called the museum the next day.
“I have Hitler's head. Yes, it's authentic.” I looked at the Hitler-head. “They want to know something only you could know.”
“Tell them to dig around the tree on the north side of the house I grew up in. I buried some toys there.”
I gave them the location, and they said to call back in a week.
“I imagine historians are going to want to talk to you. Other people too.”
“I don't want to talk to them.”
“You owe it to humanity.”
“I think you're using me.”
“For what?”
“You found Hitler's head, and now you feel special. You've thought about how you can profit from this, right?”
“I'm giving you to the museum and then I'm done with all this.”
“We'll see.”

The museum director was excited when he called me back the next week. The toys were where Hitler said they would be, and there was a finder's fee for discovering the head! $10,000. However, the museum would not let me be on the designing committee for the Hitler-head exhibit, and I'm good at that stuff. But I had the head, so I was going to dictate the terms.
“We're not going with that museum,” I told the Hitler-head.
“Oh?”
“I want a say in the exhibit you're going to be in. I'm the one that found you.”
“I see.”
“I know what that tone means.”

The next museum was more accommodating. I was made lead designer for the Hitler-head exhibit. I got a little bit of a stipend along with a bigger finder's fee.
“Are you happy with the deal you got?” Hitler asked me.
“Yes. But...”
“But what?”
“I wish my name was more prominent. I found you after all.”
“I see.”
“I'm kidding. I don't care how prominent my name is. As of tomorrow, the museum owns you. My part in this will be over.”
"The museum owns me?”
“You're lucky. If they actually thought you were a person, they'd put you on trial and execute you. Instead, you're just a Hitler-head in a jar.”
“Lucky me, I get to live.” Hitler was silent for a moment. “You know you used me,” he said. I thought about this.
“Yes, I suppose I did.”
“So, return the favor. Let me use you.”
“To press the button?”
“Yes. Please.”
“I have to think about it.”

I went to a priest.
“I have Hitler's head, and I'm donating it to a museum, but I profited from it, and now Hitler says I owe him a favor.”
“What kind of favor?”
“He wants me to stop the machinery that's keeping him alive.”
“Suicide is a sin.”
“I'm not religious, so pretend it's not.”
“OK, Hitler owes a debt to humanity, and the favor that you owe him doesn't come close to erasing that debt, which is what would happen if you kill him.”
“So, I have a moral duty to benefit humanity by not pressing Hitler's self-destruct button?”
“Yes.”
“Does Hitler have a say in that?”
“He forfeited that when he committed crimes against humanity.”
“What if he's truly repentful?”
“That's between him and God. This is crime and punishment.”

The next day I delivered the news to Hitler: “Your crimes against humanity were so great, I can't help you escape punishment through assisted-suicide. The priest is right. But I do owe you. What small thing can I do for you?”
“Aren't you curious about something?”
“What?”
“Why did I tell you where my toys were buried?”
“That's a good question.” I thought for a moment. “You're clever, Hitler. You're going to say that revealing the location of those toys and condemning yourself to a life as a museum exhibit is proof you're truly repentful.”
“Isn't it?”
“Or you're very deceitful. But that is not up to me, and I won't help you kill yourself, so what do you want me to do for you?”
“Come visit me.”
“Of course.”
But I was busy with life, and it was a while before I got around to seeing Hitler again.

“You don't look so good.” Hitler's head was pretty banged up. He was missing an eye and some teeth. He had a bunch of scars and a broken nose. “You're coming home with me.”
“Will you press the button?”
“I'm thinking about it.”
The next day, I pressed the button. Hitler died. But he told me about a cave and a time travelling machine before he went.

It took six months for my friend and me to find Hitler’s cave. After some spelunking, we found a portal. I turned it on and the cave wall became a giant screen. I punched in the numbers Hitler had given me on a number pad, and an image of a cottage came into focus.
“You ready to do this?” my friend asked.
“Not really. But how often do you get the chance to remake the world?”
My friend gave me a strange look. We stepped through the screen and into an old-fashioned nursery. A baby was sleeping in a homemade crib. The far wall shimmered. I assumed it was the way back.
“Do you think that's...”
“Baby Hitler?” I whispered back. “Yes, we'll check the house and make sure, but it's him.”
We crept around and confirmed this was indeed the Hitler family. A phonograph machine was playing some tinny piano music. Through the kitchen window I could see Hitler's mom from behind. She was tending a small garden.
“We have to do it soon,” I said, but I didn't move. I kept watching Hitler's mom do her gardening. My friend nudged me, and we went back upstairs to the nursery. I watched her pick peaches through the nursery window.
“She doesn't know what he'll turn in to.”
It was hard to turn my gaze away. I looked at the baby and pulled out a syringe. “It will be quick and painless. Babies died a lot in the 1800's.”
“They weren't murdered a lot in the 1800's.”
“Not murder. Assisted-suicide, remember?”
I looked out the window again. Hitler's mother turned around and began walking towards the house. She looked faded, like a picture left out in the sun. I gripped the needle tightly. The room spun. I felt the Fates shift their gaze over to this little house. It was like a weight on me. I stuck the syringe into the baby and pressed the plunger.
“Come on, let's see what kind of world I've created.”
“Yes, I'm curious to know what your world will be like.”
“What does that tone mean?”