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The State of the Art(46)

By:Iain M. Banks


exhibited just the right amount of embarrassment,

and so parted friends.

3.3:Arrested Development

There is something about the very idea of a city

which is central to the understanding of a planet

like Earth, and particularly the understanding of

that part of the then-existing group-civilization

[*5*] which called itself the West.That idea, to my mind, met its materialist apotheosis in Berlin at the

time of the Wall.

Perhaps I go into some sort of shock when I

experience something deeply; I'm not sure, even at

this ripe middle-age, but I have to admit that what I

recall of Berlin is not arranged in my memory in

any normal, chronological sequence.My only

excuse is that Berlin itself was so abnormal - and

yet so bizarrely representative - it was like

something unreal; an occasionally macabre

Disneyworld which was so much a part of the real

world (and the realpolitik world), so much a

crystallization of everything these people had

managed to produce, wreck, reinstate, venerate,

condemn and worship in their history that it

defiantly transcended everything it exemplified,

and took on a single - if multifariously faceted -

meaning of its own; a sum, an answer, a statement

no city in its right mind would want or be able to

arrive at.I said we were more interested in Earth's

art than anything else; very well, Berlin was its

masterpiece, an equivalent for the ship.

I remember walking round the city, day and night,

seeing buildings whose walls were still pocked

with bullet holes from a war ended thirty-two

years earlier.Lit, crowded, otherwise ordinary

office buildings looked as though they'd been

sandblasted with grains the size of tennis balls;

police stations, apartment blocks, churches, park

walls, the very sidewalks themselves bore the

same stigmata of ancient violence, the mark of

metal on stone.

I could read those walls; reconstruct from that

wreckage the events of a day, or an afternoon, or

an hour, or just a few minutes.Here the machine-

gun fire had sprayed, light ordinance like acid

pitting, heavier guns leaving tracks like a

succession of pickaxe blows on ice; here shaped-

charge and kinetic weapons had pierced - the holes

had been bricked up - and sprayed long rays of

jagged holes across the stone; here a grenade had

exploded, fragments blasting everywhere, shallow

cratering the sidewalk and spraying the wall (or

not; sometimes there was untouched stone in one

direction, like a shrapnel shadow, where perhaps a

soldier left his image on the city at the moment of

his death).

In one place all the marks, on a railway arch, were

wildly slanted, cutting a swathe across one side of

the arch, hitting the pavement, then slanting up on

the other side of the alcove.I stood and wondered

at that, then realized that three decades before

some Red Army soldier had probably crouched

there, drawing fire from a building across the

street I turned, and could even see which window

I took the West-operated U-bahn under the wall,

cutting across from one part of West Berlin to the

other, from Hallesches Tor to Tegel.At

Friedrichstrasse you could quit the train and enter

East Berlin, but the other stations under East were

closed; guards with submachine guns stood

watching the train rush through the deserted

stations; an eerie blue glow lit this film-set of a

scene, and the train's passing sent ancient papers

scattering, and lifted the torn corners of old posters

still stuck to the wall.I had to make that journey

twice, to be sure I hadn't imagined it all; the other

passengers had looked as bored and zombie-like

as underground passengers usually do.

There was something of that frightening, ghostly

emptiness about the city itself at times.Although so

surely enclosed, West Berlin was big; full of parks

and trees and lakes - more so than most cities - and

that, combined with the fact that people were still

leaving the city in their tens of thousands each year

(despite all sorts of grants and tax concessions

designed to persuade them to stay) meant that

while there was the same quality of high capitalist

presence I'd been immersed in in London and

sensed in Paris, the density was much reduced;

there simply wasn't the same pressure to develop

and redevelop the land.So the city was full of those

shot-up buildings and wide open spaces; bomb

sites with shattered ruins on the skyline, empty-

windowed and roofless like great abandoned ships

adrift on seas of weeds.Alongside the elegance of

the Kurfustendamm, this legacy of destruction and

privation became just another vast art work, like

the quaintly shattered steeple of the Kaiser

Wilhelm Memorial Church, set at the end of the K-

damm like a folly at the end of an avenue of trees.

Even the two rail systems contributed to the sense