One day, Alex asked, “How much of what we know about World War 2 comes from biographies written by Nazis?”

“About a third of it,” her advisor said.

“Okay.” She folded her hands in her lap, not sure what else to do with them. “But the rest comes from allied reports?”

“Yes,” her advisor said, adding, “mostly biographies written by communists. The USSR published their official version of events in 1956.”

A faint frown appeared on Alex’s face, and it was only after a moment that she said: “What about American or British reports?”

“Well, those are alright,” he advisor replied, “but by the time western allies were in Europe, the war was pretty much over. Most of the fighting occurred before that. It’s frustrating, but we have to go with the sources we have.”

That evening, Alex filled her apartment with books that were very concerning to her roommates: books with red covers and books with swastikas on the cover, books dedicated to the workers revolution, and books dedicated to those who perished fighting the “international jew.” They asked her if she’d been watching too much YouTube lately, or perhaps if she should uninstall social media from her phone until after the election.

The next day, she returned to campus and her advisors office, not having slept in the interim. She was still wearing the same clothes, though they were more rumpled than they had been. She smelled of sweat and coffee.

“In this biography,” she said, holding up a black book, “General Manstein says that the southern assault at the Battle of Kursk was a rousing success, and they’d have crushed the Soviets if Hitler hadn’t forced them to pull back.”

“Yes,” her advisor said, “what of it?”

“He was the commander of the southern assault.” She pointed at the book, as though its black cover might somehow support her accusation. “He’s evaluating his own performance in a battle that he lost.”

“He’s the only high-ranking German officer from the southern Kursk assault who survived the war. He’s the only source we have.”

“He’s the only German source we have.” She fished out another book, this one with a red cover. “Field Marshall Zhukov says that Manstein is an idiot, that the southern assault was a disaster, and that Hitler pulled him back to save what was left of the German fourth army from complete destruction.”

“Yes.”

After a pause, she pointed at that book as well, wide-eyed: “So our two major sources completely disagree about how the battle went.”

“That’s not true,” her advisor said, “Zhukov and Manstein both agree that Kluge was an idiot who bundled the northern assault.”

“Kluge didn’t survive the war. He doesn’t have a biography.”

“True,” her advisor said. “Read enough of these books and you’ll notice that a lot of things get blamed on people who aren’t around to disagree.”

After a moment of incredulous silence, her eyes wide, her manner sharp, Alex snapped: “So do we know anything?”

“We know the Germans lost Kursk, no matter what any biographies say,” her advisor replied, “We know which men survived and which didn’t. We know how it mattered to the rest of the war.”

“But for what actually happened, we’re relying on whoever got their book published.” Alex rubbed her face, letting the two biographies fall back into her lap. “So, when historians write about our era, is the highest authority going to be… I don’t know. Whoever got the most retweets? Does PewDiePie get to write a future history textbook on early 21st century American culture?”

“Is that any different from how it works now?” her advisor asked, a small smile on his face.

Alex paused, her stare exhausted and uncomprehending. “I don’t understand.”

“Even if everything you saw on the news was true,” he raised a hand to her, “which it’s not, do you think CNN decides who gets coverage on the basis of what is strictly factual and fair? You think a murder in southern Somalia gets the same coverage as the murder of a pretty white girl in Washington DC?”

“Then…” For a time, Alex stared at nothing, perhaps vaguely in the direction of her advisor’s desk. “Why be a historian?”

“Do you care about what actually happened? Do you want to know the difference between truth and stories?”

“Yes,” she snapped, “yes of course!”

“Most people don’t.”