Uwe Tellkamp - The Tower

Judith Schevola raised her glass.

‘Aha, and there is Herr Rohde. We were just talking about connections and breaking through the barriers between me and thee. As you were saying earlier on, about those nerve spiders or whatever: something is injected. It makes me think of anaesthetizing the nervus mandibularis. — Open wide, a little prick, wait five minutes and all quiet in the upper storey. But this in-ject-ing’ — Frau Knabe drew the word out, eyes wide — ‘this sting, pleasant pressure then something from outside dribbles into us, the bitter or the sweet poison … Toxic! I couldn’t help thinking about sex when you described it.’

Those around grinned.

‘Not with you, Herr Rohde, you’re too skinny for me and you’ve had too much of a classical education. Do you know that some patients find the sharp pain, when you use the three-finger grip and gently push the needle into the mucous membrane, energizing?’

‘I have to say that I recently read something like that by a doctor, Georg Groddeck —’

‘That’s right, Herr Däne, so did I.’

‘ The Book of the It , Herr Dietzsch?’

‘Yes! And I thought it was interesting what he had to say about successful treatments, every treatment of patients is the right one, they are always and under all circumstances correctly treated, whether according to science or the method of a shepherd skilled in the healing arts — the cure doesn’t come from the prescriptions but from what our “it” does with the —’

‘You’d be the ideal doctor for our medical services here,’ said Frau Knabe, returning to the fray. ‘But, you know, recently I got terrible twinges from my musculus latissimus dorsi and unfortunately my “it” made absolutely nothing of it! It demanded painkillers and a correction of the wrong motion grid that caused it … Grid’s an interesting word, isn’t it? A mot juste . Thought grid, experience grid and motion grid, of course. Which takes us back to Feldenkrais. You interrupted me.’

‘But there’s always an incalculable element to humanity, Frau Doktor Knabe. Science can’t count or measure everything or even mark it on a grid.’

‘Who is saying it can, Herr Däne? But Feldenkrais doesn’t simply put forward unproved assertions. All it comes to in the end is that they say “it” — is a man.’

Meno went to the buffet. Judith Schevola was standing, laughing, in a group of scientists in white coats from the Institute, Sperber, the lawyer, was nearby talking to the Baroness and Teerwagen. Slices of cold roast meat, ham, Hungarian salami cut wafer-thin, several kinds of cheese, all appetizingly set out on plates with a garnish of lettuce leaves, hard-boiled egg halves, caviar and tomatoes, crispy fried chicken, Margon mineral water, beer, wine, Crimean champagne and bread giving off a nice smell. In addition, large bowls of fruit salad, Waldorf salad, grapes, bananas, fruits Meno didn’t recognize.

‘Not bad, is it?’ That was Malthakus, with a faint smile. ‘What you’ve got in your hand there’s called a kiwi fruit. Comes from New Zealand.’

‘Never seen one before, Herr Malthakus.’

‘Me neither, not until this evening. That is — just a minute. On a New Zealand stamp … Or was it a bird on it? You have to peel them or spoon them out. Have you tried the potato soup yet? A treat, really herby. Those are the things I like best. Simple dishes. Ones you even get in wartime. Bread, jacket potatoes, cream cheese, stew, potato soup. Though I suppose bananas aren’t to be sneezed at either.’ Putting his hand over his mouth, he laughed a quiet, bubbling laugh. ‘I’ve already polished off five and purloined a few more.’ Malthakus gave Meno a sly look. ‘For the kids. There’s nothing in the dump down the road.’ The ‘dump down the road’ was the greengrocer’s on the corner of Rissleite and Bautzner Strasse, across the road from the Binneberg café-cum-cake shop, and ‘nothing’ was Golden Delicious, salsify, sugar beet, beans, carrots, cabbage and a large tub of dirty potatoes. There was also juice, a red fizzy drink known as ‘Lenin’s sweat’.

‘It’s genuine Malossol caviar, by the way. Would you like a bagful? I always take some back with me when I’ve been to Arbogast’s. He’s on the supply programme of those over there. The Michurin kitchen complex. It completely bypasses normal shops.’

‘I know.’

Malthakus glanced up in surprise, a look of suspicion flitted across his face. ‘Oh yes. I see … My girls were friends with Hanna, when they were little. Later on they weren’t allowed to be with her any more. Haven’t seen her for ages.’

‘She’s in Prague, working as a doctor in the embassy.’

‘In Prague is she, and a doctor in the embassy …? Yes, well, tall oaks from little acorns grow. I can still remember you and Hanna coming to the shop and buying picture postcards. You of Prague and London, Hanna always of Paris. Always of Paris, yes, yes.’ Malthakus adjusted his glasses, surveyed Meno reflectively. ‘You quoted a poem just now. That kind of thing doesn’t usually mean much to me, most of it’s above my head. I’m sure our modern poets are all very cultured and advanced but I’m sorry, I just don’t understand them. A simple line by Eichendorff or Mörike, that’s my limit. But the one you quoted —’

‘A Japanese haiku. “Oh, this sultry heat! / The spiders’ webs hanging hot / on the summer trees.” The poet was called Onitsura, he lived in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.’

‘Aha. Don’t you think it’s terribly hot in here? But that’s what I can’t get out of my mind: the hot spiders’ webs. You’ll have to forgive me if I couldn’t concentrate properly on the rest of your talk, it was going round and round in my head all the time. You get taken in by this Mr, what did you say? — Mr Onitsura. You believe in his hot spiders’ webs. Until you realize that it’s only a body that can get hot. But a spider’s web doesn’t have one, so it can’t get hot! … And yet you trust the fellow, somehow the line makes sense and that irritates me. Oh, I think the Baron would like to talk to you. In the meantime should I … act on your behalf?’ Malthakus looked round quickly and pulled the corner of a plastic bag out of his pocket. ‘We have the same way home as far as Wolfsleite — then the hand-over of the goods in question.’ Meno had to laugh at the stamp dealer’s innocent blue-eyed look, the words whispered behind his hand.

‘Well, Rohde, my friend, have you thought over my offer? Your boss would have no objection.’

‘I need a little time, Herr von Arbogast.’

Schiffner raised his champagne glass and drank to Meno. ‘We also have to have a talk about the Association conference, my son. The regional office has already been on the line asking where our response to the meeting on the election report is. And there’s some work coming your way soon. From our talented up-and-coming young writer.’ Schiffner nodded in the direction of Judith Schevola. Arbogast and he exchanged glances, grinned. Sperber and Altberg came to join them. ‘She wants to publish a book with us. Have a look some time. I mean at the book.’ Arbogast, Sperber and Schiffner began to laugh. ‘And just you be careful, my son, talent can be infectious.’ The three of them laughed even louder.

‘My God, Knabe’s shooting her mouth off again. How can you stand her, Ludwig, her and her feminist twaddle?’ Sperber rocked up and down on his toes and looked across at the dentist, who, gesturing all the time and rolling her eyes, was arguing with Däne, Jochen Londoner and Kittwitz.

Her husband was standing there, disconsolately holding the stalk which was all that was left of the pineapple. ‘That limp-dick Knabe really ought to give his old woman one for once.’