‘It all sounds a bit unlikely to me.’
‘It’s not really my field, of course.’ Susanne shrugged. ‘But I have come across it. There’s a theory that some irrational fears or phobias owe their origins to genetic memory stored in this so-called junk DNA. A fear of height, for example, becoming encoded because some ancestor was traumatised by either falling or witnessing the death of someone else falling. Just as we can develop a fear of fire, claustrophobia, et cetera, because of some trauma in our own direct experience, it could be that those phobias that seem to have no direct source may have been inherited.’
Fabel thought of Maria and her fear of being touched because of the trauma she had experienced. It chilled him to think that such fears could be passed on from one generation to the next.
‘But surely this is all speculation?’ he said.
‘There are a lot of things that cannot be explained by normal chromosomal inheritance. Lactose tolerance, for example. We shouldn’t be able to drink the milk of other species. Yet in all those cultures in which the herding and farming of cattle, goats, yaks and the like was common, we developed a tolerance for drinking the milk of livestock. But each generation did not need to redevelop that tolerance – it simply passed on once it was gained. And that cannot be explained by natural selection or the passing on of congenital DNA. There must be some other mechanism for genetic transference.’
Fabel’s expression was one of a man contemplating things he did not fully understand. ‘What about memories? Do you think it’s possible for them to pass down from one generation to the next?’
‘Honestly… I don’t know. For me, the main problem is the totally different and separate processes at work. Memories are neurological phenomena. They’re all to do with synapses, brain cells, the nervous system. DNA inheritance is a genetic process. I don’t understand what biomolecular mechanism could be at work to imprint one on the other.’
‘But…?’
‘But instinctive behaviour is a difficult thing to explain, particularly the more abstract forms of instinct that have nothing to do with our origins as a species. Of course, psychology has been through the whole thing with Jungian psychology, which simply took these theories far too far, but there are simple common experiences that I find intriguing.’
‘Such as?’
‘When we were on Sylt you told me how the first time you visited the island you felt you’d known it all your life. It is a relatively common psychological… experience, I suppose you would call it. For example, a farmer who has never been out of Bavaria, far less Germany, finally takes a foreign holiday – in Spain, say. But when our reluctant virgin-tourist who has never expressed any interest in Spain arrives in some remote mountain town, he experiences an unaccountable feeling of familiarity. He instinctively knows where to go to find a castle, the old part of town, a river, et cetera. And once he is home in Oberbayern, he suffers from this strange form of homesickness.’
‘This is common?
‘Reasonably. There are several studies under way at the moment into the phenomenon. We’re not talking about some kind of extended deja vu, mind you. These people have specific knowledge of a place they have never visited before in their life.’
‘So what does it mean? Some kind of evidence of reincarnation?’
‘A lot of people have taken it as such. Which is, of course, nonsense, but you can understand the logic… or lack of it, if you know what I mean. But some serious psychologists and geneticists believe that it may be evidence of some kind of inherited or genetic memory. But, like I said, I cannot see how the neurological or psychological phenomenon of memory can become transferred and imprinted on the physical biomolecular structure of DNA. I tend to think that these experiences come from information that has perhaps been picked up in pieces over a lifetime of reading, watching television documentaries, and so on. All scattered throughout the subconscious but brought together by some single point of recognition. For example, our Bavarian farmer sees the church steeple when he dismounts from the bus. He has this weird deja vu-type feeling of familiarity because his subconscious is putting that image together with a scattered jigsaw of bits of information.’
‘But some other scientists, like Gunter Griebel, believe it’s something to do with this DNA soup that we all carry around with us.’
‘Yep. For example, maybe our Bavarian farmer had a distant forefather who lived in that area of Spain and he has inherited ancestral memories of it. And, of course, there is another phenomenon that we all experience. That feeling that you’ve met someone somewhere before even though you’re meeting them for the first time. It’s not just their appearance that seems familiar, but their personality too. Or the way we take an instant like or dislike to someone, with absolutely no basis for our prejudice. It’s a favourite notion cited by reincarnationists, that a group of individuals are bound together through all their incarnations. And that we recognise them as soon as we meet them again in a new life.’
Fabel went to the fridge and took out another bottle of Jever. ‘And what’s the scientific theory behind this phenomenon?’
‘God, Jan… that depends on your perspective. As a psychologist I could point to dozens of psychological factors that stimulate a false sense of recognition, but I know that there are some wild theories about it. The fact is that every person on this planet is related: no matter how far-flung we are, we all share a common genetic ancestor. The world today has a population of about six and a half billion. But if we go back only three thousand years, to roughly the time of those mummies in western China that you told me about, there would only be, what… less than two hundred million people worldwide. We are all just variations on the same themes, over and over again. So it is more than conceivable that the same configuration of features is repeated with the same personality type. We all tend to associate certain features with certain personalities and prejudge people by their looks. We say someone looks intelligent, or friendly or arrogant, based on their features and on our experience of people with a similar appearance. And sometimes when we meet people for the first time we feel we’ve met them before because we’re putting together a composite picture of a number of people who looked similar and who had similar personalities.’ Susanne took a sip of her wine and shrugged. ‘It’s not reincarnation. It’s coincidence.’
7.42 p.m.: Schanzenviertel, Hamburg
It should have been an unequal contest: a Mercedes patrol car against an ageing bicycle. But the Schanzenviertel was a warren of narrow streets, lined by parked cars, and Stefan Schreiner was forced to accelerate and brake in short, ineffective bursts. As he negotiated the obstacles and the corners in pursuit of the cyclist, his partner Peter Reinhard struggled to replace the plastic lids on the coffee containers and put them into the car’s cup-holders.
‘Would you mind telling me what the hell is going on?’ Reinhard had found a paper towel and was dabbing at his coffee-soaked shirt front.
‘That bike…’ Schreiner stayed focused on his quarry. ‘It’s stolen.’
They were now in a one-way street, again lined with parked cars, allowing no opportunity to turn. The cyclist clearly realised that he had the police at a disadvantage and stopped suddenly, forcing Schreiner to brake hard. But before the policemen had time to get out of the car, the cyclist had squeezed between two parked vehicles, mounted the pavement and was heading back the way they had come. Schreiner slammed the patrol car into reverse and, twisting round in his seat, drove back up the street as fast as its width and congestion would allow.