Juli Zeh - 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 .’

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.’

He spoke more urgently, more intensely than usual. He had fire in his eyes and he intoned his words with the passion of a poet.

‘Unlike an animal, I can rise above the compulsions of nature. I can have sex without wanting to reproduce. I can decide to take substances that unchain me from my body and allow me, temporarily, to be free. I can disregard my survival instincts and place myself in danger, for nothing more than the challenge and the thrill. To be human, it isn’t enough to exist , if to exist means simply being here in this world. Man must experience his existence. Through pain. Through intoxication. Through failure. By soaring as high as you can. By apprehending the full extent of your power over your own existence — over life, over death. That, my poor, withered sister, is love.’

They’d had this debate more often than they could remember, but never like this. This time the truth was out there on the surface, leaving the core of things empty. Or, to put it another way, it was a matter of packaging. Moritz had stepped outside the carefully balanced game of derision they’d been perfecting since childhood. He’d hurt Mia’s feelings, and she didn’t intend to back down.

‘My poor misguided brother … Don’t you realise what a hypocrite you are? Apprehending the full extent of your power … It won’t mean a thing when your heart goes on strike! It’s all very well to talk about freedom when you’re enjoying the benefits of a risk-free society. While you’re making combative speeches, the rest of us are picking up the tab. You’re not free; you’re hypocritical and gutless!’

‘A risk-free society!’ Moritz laughed. ‘Tell me you didn’t say that! Even you should know better than to parrot the slogans of those conformists. Life won’t be risk-free until we’re suspended in liquid growth medium and forbidden from touching each other. What’s the point of being safe if we vegetate for the rest of our lives to satisfy someone’s warped idea of the norm? If we have just one idea that isn’t about our safety, if our minds rise above our physical needs and contemplate something bigger than ourselves, then at least we’re living a life of dignity, which in the higher sense is the only normal one. You know the worst part, Mia? You’re clever enough to understand what I’m saying.’