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oblivion
the steamy heat of the
greenhouse, and thecriminals
won; the guards couldn’t do
anything about it; the only
gardener who knew the job,
a former custodian of an
arboretum, was soon killed
by a live wire, and the garden
began to fai l; prisoners
started eating the flowers,
chopping them up with a
knife like greens and boiling
them in tin cans. The camp
administrators, who could
not retreat—the botanical
garden was now celebrated
in the mini s tr y, they
promised to send specialists,
expand the garden, and turn
it into a museum of polar
agronomy and gardening—
the administrators decided
to gather the peasant exiles
and staff the garden with
them. They simply sent a
convoy of guards to the exile
village and, without arresting
them, the leader picked out
ten people to bring back to
the camp.
The garden had trees—apple,
cherry, plum; in winter they
were wrapped in burlap,
with straw piled around the
trunks, but the burlap and
straw were stolen to make
clothing warmer; they had
to keep a watchman by
the trees. They were still
too small to bear fruit, so
when high-ranking visitors
came, fruits were hung on
the branches in any season;
the fruits were counted,
so that the staff would not
appropr iate any before
returning them in compliance
with an inventory list.
One time a guest decided to
eat an apple and discovered
the thin thread that tied
its stem to the branch, and
angri ly threw the smal l
Golden Chinese apple,
glowing like a paper lantern,