27

The colonel was in the middle of helping the child with his maths practice. The room had a high ceiling and was very white and neat, with a glass wall offering a view to the greenhouse. Leaning over his workbook, the kid was busy chewing on his right thumbnail. The tall and pale colonel was unshaven and dressed in a white suit, immaculate apart from being somewhat worn out at the wrists. He was furiously pacing up and down by the table, repeating the task to be solved over and over again. When he caught a glimpse of Kosef J he immediately paused and welcomed him, holding his hand out: ‘Please, Mr Kosef, do come in.’

‘Thank you,’ Kosef J mumbled and held out a limp hand that the colonel shook in a most friendly manner.

‘Take a seat,’ the colonel said pointing at a chair.

‘Thank you,’ Kosef J said sitting down.

‘I no longer expected to get hold of you,’ the colonel said but Kosef J didn’t respond since he was unable to make sense of what the colonel had meant.

The child lifted his gaze from the pages of his workbook and stared stupidly at Kosef J. Kosef J raised his hand and waved at him by way of a greeting, but the kid didn’t seem to understand this code.

‘We’re beating our brains here with this nonsense,’ the colonel said with a faint laugh. He then turned to the kid and asked impatiently: ‘Have you written this down?’

‘Yes, I have,’ the kid said.

‘Listen to this,’ the colonel now turned to Kosef J again: ‘In a class there are thirty pupils and each of them brings in several jars. How many jars will be collected if half of the class brings in two jars each, a quarter brings in the third of the amount brought in by the first half, and the other quarter twice as many as the amount brought in by the first quarter. Well? Mr Kosef, isn’t this utter filth, a lie invented to twist the minds of these innocent children who haven’t yet put a foot wrong? Come on, Mr Kosef, isn’t this right?’

The colonel almost turned black in anger and started to cough, at which point the child pointed at a glass filled with water. The colonel drank some water and then turned to Kosef J again.

‘See? All these things one has to learn as a child. All abominable and false. Only what’s really necessary and useful isn’t taught by anyone.’

‘Indeed,’ Kosef J hummed.

‘Another example, so you can see how far they can go: if two teams are competing at running and the first team’s average is 60 km an hour, while the second team’s average is 55 km an hour, and each team has three members, how much time do the six participants need to cover 1,000 km? Well? Tell me, Mr Kosef, do tell me! Isn’t this utter filth and falsification of the real? Can you see the slightest particle of truth in this? And this is what people have to learn from a young age.’

The kid pointed again at the glass of water and the colonel took a few sips. Kosef J swallowed dry.

‘Have you written this down?’ the colonel asked.

‘I have,’ the kid replied.

The colonel opened the glass doors facing the greenhouse wide and took a few deep breaths to fill his lungs up.

‘This is my way of relaxing,’ he explained in a secretive voice to Kosef J. ‘We are fortunate to have this garden, right?’

‘Indeed,’ Kosef J agreed.

Suddenly the colonel started charging towards Kosef J.

‘What do you care,’ he said. ‘You are free and can start a new life . . . ’

He sighed and took a seat on a chair next to Kosef J.

‘I’ve heard great things about you,’ he continued with a hand on Kosef J’s knee. ‘I’ve heard things I liked and I want you to know this. You see, it is so important to hear the odd good thing and to come across the odd genuine person in this sewer and in this horrible process of falsification.’

Kosef J sighed and felt a pang in his chest.

‘You know, from the moment I heard that you were released, I’ve been wondering: what will this man do, how will he look forward to the world, to reality, not to these abominable lies that cannot be dispelled. Having said that, these imbeciles, these specimens of human filth have an answer to everything.’

The child listened carefully, shoulders slightly bent, as if he’d been expecting someone to hit him on the head. Kosef J wasn’t feeling at ease either. The colonel grew more and more irate.

‘There is no space for us in this world, Mr Kosef. The proof: this child is forced to stay at home and think about things that don’t exist. For example, I’m forced to think about all these things and to think about them again and again until my head bursts. Likewise, you are forced to see things that you perhaps would prefer not to see. We are all linked together like insects, like the humps of a giant and disgusting camel. Can you see now, Mr Kosef, why I admire you and why I am in total agreement with you? From the moment I heard that you were released, I kept wondering: what will this exemplary man do, what will he think and how will he move forward in the real world? I am convinced, Mr Kosef, that you will move past this filth, without getting soiled, and you will move beyond these abominations that grow in our hearts and fill us with pus and the most shameful disgrace . . . Yes? Yes, Mr Kosef? Promise me, now that the kid is here to witness, that you won’t allow to get soiled! Promise me this for God’s sake, because only God can get us out of this sewer. Please promise me that you won’t allow to get soiled.’

‘I promise,’ Kosef mumbled.

The child kept staring at the two men, so the colonel barked at him in anger, disgruntled:

‘Check out the answers at the back of the book, take a look for God’s sake!’

The kid started to leaf through one of the books on the table and the colonel turned his gaze back to Kosef J.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Now we can visit the greenhouse if you like.’

He stood up and Kosef J followed him into the overheated greenhouse. The earlier look of hate had instantly disappeared from the colonel’s face.

‘Are you knowledgeable about flowers, Mr Kosef?’ he asked. ‘It’s really important to know about flowers.’

‘I am,’ Kosef J said, ‘I know a few things.’

‘These, for instance, what are these?’

‘Petunias,’ Kosef J said.

‘Not a chance in hell! What makes you think they are petunias?’

‘I swear they are petunias!’

The colonel shook his head and moved on. He then pointed at another row of pots and asked again: ‘An’ those?’

‘Rosemaries,’ Kosef J hastened to reply.

‘No way, rosemaries,’ the colonel shook his head with irritation. ‘How can you tell this is rosemary?’

‘Well, what else could it be?’ Kosef J replied, by this point rather irritated himself. ‘This is rosemary all right.’

They delved further into the greenhouse and soon large drops of sweat appeared on their foreheads. The colonel was breathing with difficulty and his eyes gleamed as if he had just downed a stiff drink.

‘Can you smell the poison in the air? Can you? These flowers are poisoning the air. You can never trust anyone,’ the colonel mused. ‘You’d think that you are walking in heaven’s garden while they are poisoning the air.’

‘Autumn tulips,’ Kosef J burst out.

‘Where?’ the colonel barked.

‘There, in the corner,’ Kosef J pointed behind the rows of freesias.

‘I’ve never had freesias in my greenhouse,’ the colonel babbled. ‘Where can you see freesias in my greenhouse?’

‘Here you go, a dwarf cypress. A Japanese walnut. Tibetan sycamore.’

‘Enough,’ the colonel concluded, ‘I’ve had enough.’

‘Red ivy,’ Kosef J continued. ‘Lilacs, magnolias, mountain fern, sunflowers, immortelles.’

‘Let’s go back,’ he begged him.

‘Carnations, crow onion, nettle, sorrel, dry osier, hazelnut.’

The colonel let his side down. He took a seat on a crate of soil, squeezed his cheeks between his plams and looked with great concern at Kosef J.

‘Have you collected your money?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Kosef J replied.

‘Go to the cashier and collect it,’ the colonel said in an extremely faint voice. ‘It’s a lot of money. You’ll need it.’ He then swiftly hugged Kosef J and whispered in his ear: ‘I’ve been waiting for this message for ages, thank you . . . ’

As Kosef J was just about to leave, the child ran up to him carrying a few short tubes, covered in thin foil. The kid placed them into his palm and made him close his fist.

‘What are these?’ Kosef J asked.

‘Megaphone batteries,’ the kid whispered.