‘Come on, Frau Holl, let me help you.’ Kramer leaves the sofa and crouches next to Mia, who has sunk to her knees. He guides her to the sofa and smooths a strand of hair gently from her forehead.
‘Get your hands off her,’ hisses the ideal inamorata.
‘I think we both need a cup of hot water,’ says Kramer, heading for the kitchen.
Genetic Fingerprint
THE INCIDENT UNDER discussion took place in the recent past. If we consider what happened, the chain of events seems strikingly clear. On an otherwise ordinary Saturday evening, twenty-seven-year-old Moritz Holl, a warm-hearted but strong-willed young man, described as a ‘dreamer’ by his parents, a ‘free spirit’ by his friends and a ‘bit of a nutcase’ by his sister Mia, made a terrible discovery and went to the police. A young woman by the name of Sibylle, who was meeting Moritz on a so-called ‘blind date’ beneath the South Bridge, was at the time of his arrival neither interesting nor uninteresting, but dead. The distraught young man reported the incident, gave his particulars and left. Two days later he was placed in police custody. Traces of his semen had been discovered in the body of the deceased.
The matching of Moritz’s DNA made further investigation unnecessary. No one with any sense would dispute the fact that DNA fingerprints are unique. Even twins aren’t necessarily genetically identical, and Moritz’s only sibling isn’t a twin, but a scientist, who knows with good reason that a person’s genetic fingerprint is unique. In murder cases with clear DNA evidence, there is never any uncertainty about the outcome of the trial, nor about whether the murderer will confess. Whether as a means of salving the conscience or asking popular opinion for absolution for a crime, sooner or later a proven killer always confesses. Moritz, however, seemed ignorant of this fact. He insisted that he had neither raped nor killed Sibylle. As the public sat down to watch the afternoon’s entertainment in expectation of a speedy trial, Moritz, his pale face hardened by the strength of his convictions and his blue eyes wide with innocence, proceeded to claim that he wasn’t guilty of the crime. Whenever he was permitted to speak, he said something that stuck in people’s minds like a rock anthem: ‘You are sacrificing me on the altar of your delusions.’
His attitude was unique in the Method’s legal history. The citizens of a well-run state are aware that private interests must be aligned with the public good, especially in the murkier regions of human existence. Moritz’s courtroom appearances caused a media scandal. The constancy of his stance impressed a number of people, who called for the judge to stay the sentence. Others found new cause to despise him: first for being a murderer, and second for being obtuse.
Amid all the excitement and confusion was Mia, her connection to Moritz now a dirty secret that the law was determined to conceal. By day she went to work and kept up with her exercise requirements; in the evening she visited the prison unobserved. Most nights, instead of sleeping, she vomited into a bowl and went outside to pour the contents down the drain: the slightest increase in stomach acid would be detected by the sensor in her toilet. Unsurprisingly, Kramer’s reports played an important, if not decisive, role in shaping the media discourse on the case. What he wrote and said was what any right-thinking, dedicated defender of scientific positivism and the Method would say and write — and now, as he busies himself in the kitchen, he repeats it to Mia.
No High-flown Beliefs
‘OUR SOCIETY,’ SAYS Kramer, filling the kettle, ‘has attained its apotheosis. Unlike every previous or current form of social organisation, we’re not in thrall to the market or religion. We’re not dependent on high-flown ideological beliefs. The smug, self-serving faith in popular democracy has no place in our system. Our society is guided by reason and reason alone: its sole founding principle is taken directly from biological life. Every living organism has one thing in common, a defining characteristic that makes plants, animals and, most especially, humans what they are: the individual and collective will to survive. The consensus at the heart of our society is based on this unconditional drive, the cornerstone of our system. The Method was developed so that every individual can enjoy maximum longevity and minimal biological dysfunction — or put simply, a happy and healthy life, a life free from suffering and pain. With this in mind, we created a highly complex system, an apparatus more sophisticated than any form of government, present or past. Our laws form a delicate, perfectly attuned network, the nervous system of the state. Our system is flawless, with the inbuilt strength of the human body. And like the human body it is supremely capable of sustaining itself — but it is fragile too. The slightest infringement of the principles at the heart of this delicate organism could wound or kill it. Lemon?’
Mia, who likes a dash of lemon in her water, accepts the mug from Kramer. The hot water does her good. Kramer takes a seat in the armchair opposite her and blows into his cup.
‘Do you see what I’m getting at?’
‘The reliability of DNA data can’t be contested in any rational way,’ says Mia softly.
Kramer nods. ‘DNA evidence is infallible. Infallibility is the bedrock of the Method. How are we supposed to explain the need for certain rules, if the rules themselves aren’t unerringly rational and valid — or to put it another way, if they’re fallible? Being infallible requires absolute consistency. It’s simply good sense.’
‘Listen to him, Mia,’ says the ideal inamorata, ‘he’s talking in sound bites. The man is a machine!’
‘Shush,’ Mia tells her.
‘Good sense,’ continues the ideal inamorata, ‘is knowing you’re right without knowing why!’
‘Stop butting in!’
‘I beg your pardon?’ says Kramer.
‘Tell me,’ says Mia, turning to face him. ‘What does infallibility mean in human terms?’
‘I can see where this is going.’
‘How can you expect rules, regulations or procedures to be infallible when they’re devised by humans? Humans change their beliefs, their scientific viewpoints, their entire notion of truth every couple of decades. Haven’t you ever asked yourself whether, in spite of everything, my brother could have been innocent?’
‘No,’ says Kramer.
‘Why not?’ asks the ideal inamorata.
‘Why not?’ asks Mia.
‘Let’s take the question to its logical conclusion.’ Kramer sets down his cup and leans towards her. ‘What would we get? A legal system of exceptions and anomalies! The fickle rule of the heart, pardoning and punishing with the capriciousness of an absolute monarch. Whose heart should we use? Mine? Yours? With what claim to legality? Would we appeal to a higher authority? Do you believe in God, Frau Holl?’
‘I don’t believe in him and he doesn’t believe in me. It’s mutual.’
‘What about Herr Kramer’s system?’ says the ideal inamorata. ‘He doesn’t believe in rational objectivity — and it doesn’t believe in him!’
‘And emotions?’ counters Mia. ‘They’re hardly a reliable basis for decisions. By definition, they’re merely personal.’
‘Human reason is an illusion,’ says the ideal inamorata. ‘It’s nothing but a vessel for the sum of your feelings.’
‘Anachronistic, romantic claptrap,’ snaps Mia.
‘It didn’t kill Moritz, though. Unlike your intellectual sophisms.’
‘Frau Holl!’ Kramer waves a shapely hand as if to dispel a cloud of mist. ‘Please desist from talking to yourself. You’ve lost a brother, not your confidence in the system.’