‘That’s what I always said to Moritz,’ says Mia weakly.
‘Another reason for not turning it off,’ says the ideal inamorata, clutching the remote control with both hands. ‘Mia, you need to ask yourself: which side you are on?’
‘What do you want to hear? We both know Kramer is a rabble-rouser! But he isn’t the deviclass="underline" the devil lies in the detail, in a fiendish detail. Kramer is every bit as right — and every bit as wrong — as his opponents.’
‘Shush,’ says the ideal inamorata.
‘So, coming back to the example of the intelligent young woman who starts to doubt the system,’ says Wörmer. ‘I suppose it’s a slippery slope …?’
‘It’s a vicious circle,’ says Kramer. ‘Every real or imagined step taken against the Method engenders a reaction that appears to confirm her doubts. It’s a very human situation: in the blink of an eye, you can find yourself outside the norm. The correlation between public and private interest has been the focus of comprehensive studies—’
‘Including this one,’ says the presenter, waving a book at the camera: Health as the Principle of State Legitimacy by Heinrich Kramer, Berlin/Munich/Stuttgart, 25th edition. He puts it down when his guest becomes impatient. The author is entitled to be modest in the light of his success.
‘According to the Method,’ continues Kramer, ‘normality refers to the perfect alignment of public and private good. A person who rejects this definition of normal will be seen by society to fall outside the norm. Life outside the norm is lonely, as you might imagine. Soon after converting to the cause of anti-normalism, our sample woman will feel the need to forge alliances. Her new companions will be drawn from the enemies of the Method.’
‘Only a truly great mind can break down complex issues into good hard facts,’ says Wörmer, his admiration for Kramer practically lifting him out of his seat. ‘One last question, if I may. With the chronological gap to the pre-Method era widening, should we reckon with an upsurge in anti-Method agitation?’
‘Undoubtedly; but we’re expecting it, and we’re prepared. Any intelligent person will understand the scale of the threat. It’s important to remind ourselves of the historical conditions that gave rise to the Method.’ Kramer jerks a thumb towards the past, which he seems to think lies somewhere behind his chair. He nods his head solemnly as he prepares to confront us with some uncomfortable truths.
‘The second Enlightenment came about in the wake of twentieth-century violence and led to the almost total de-ideologisation of society. Notions such as nationhood, religion and family lost their meaning. The era of dismantling had begun. Later, those caught up in the process were surprised to find that the prevailing sentiment at the turn of the millennium was far from triumphant; people felt less, not more civilised: isolated and directionless, closer to the state of nature. Soon everyone was discussing the decline in moral values. Society had lost confidence in itself, and people reverted to fearing each other. Fear was at the heart of people’s lives and the core of state politics. The period of dismantling was over, but no one had prepared for rebuilding. The consequences were dire: plummeting birth rates, an increase in stress-related illness, outbreaks of violence and terrorism. Not to mention the privileging of personal interest, the erosion of loyalty and the eventual collapse of the entire social edifice. Chaos, illness and general uncertainty.’
A dark memory flits across Kramer’s face, although he knows the story only from his parents.
‘The Method got to grips with the problem and provided a solution. It therefore follows that opposing the Method is a retrograde step. These people are reactionaries, intent on returning society to a state of chaos. They’re not waging a campaign against an idea; they’re attacking the well-being and safety of every single member of our society. Every attack on the Method is an act of war, and the supporters of the Method are prepared to fight back.’
While the studio audience bursts into enthusiastic applause, the presenter and his guest leave their seats and Mia finally seizes the remote control and hits the off button.
‘Well,’ says the ideal inamorata. ‘Do you see what’s going on now?’
Mia looks at her questioningly.
‘Your new friend meant you.’
The End of the Fish
THEY OFTEN ARGUED, but that day — the day, as Mia later realised, when things started to go wrong — they had a full-blown fight. Every week they would set out for a walk, and every week they would stop at the edge of the exclusion zone and go through their usual ritual. Moritz would stop in front of the sign at the end of the path, stretch out his arms and read the printed warning:
You are leaving the Controlled Area. This Area has been sterilised in accordance with Article 17 on Public Cleanliness. Anyone who passes beyond this point will be in breach of Article 18 on Infection Containment and will be penalised accordingly.
Then he would add, ‘Failure to leave the Controlled Area is evidence of wilful stupidity: your body will be turned to stone and your mind to mush. What are you waiting for, Mia Holl?’
Mia would run away, and he would catch her, still struggling energetically, and lift her off the ground. Carrying Mia, he would charge into the woods, hurtling towards what he called freedom and what was otherwise known as a hygiene risk.
Moritz saw his exercise obligations as a drag. He liked to exercise, but he didn’t want his ID chip in his arm communicating with the sensors on the road. Moritz wanted to walk in the woods without accumulating credits. He wanted to go fishing, light a fire and eat his catch. He preferred the taste of his scaly, slightly burnt and amateurishly filleted fish to any protein tube in the supermarket. When they went to the river, Mia would gather some nettles and offer them to her brother as a salad. She would watch as he chomped his way through his unappetising snack. And she would think, though she never said so, that Moritz, although quite probably a little unhinged, was someone you couldn’t resist.
That day too Moritz dangled his improvised fishing line into the water, chewed ostentatiously on a blade of grass, and allowed the river, a torrent of possible infections, to wash around his feet. It was warm outside, and Mia found herself leaning back on her elbows and gazing at the sky. Despite the elevated risk of skin cancer, she angled her face towards the sun. The cathedral was decked out with light, and Mia tried not to listen as Moritz filled her in on his blind date with Kristine and her proficiency at what he referred to as ‘doggy-style’. When he finally finished, she launched into a short lecture on the purpose and merits of the Central Partnership Agency. She called her brother a reckless pleasure-seeker, an egotist who was fundamentally incapable of loving a woman.
Was her tone a little harsh? Did she go beyond the usual teasing? Sometimes Mia would feel a stab of jealousy when Moritz talked about his dates. On such occasions her tone would be harsher than she intended, though not sufficiently harsh to justify Moritz reacting as he did. The woods were chirping happily and life was good, as good as it always was when the two of them were together. But Moritz was incensed.
‘You make me sick,’ he said angrily. ‘You of all people, accusing me of being incapable of love! The fact is, I’m human and you’re not.’