The Cabinet

by Un-su Kim

  Among symptomers there are some individuals who have cactuses or grapevines growing from their fingers, and there are some individuals who have lizard-like body parts. There are even some who can smell, taste, and see with their fingers. And for the last forty years, it has been Professor Kwon who has researched the world’s various symptomers. In fact, if it weren’t for him, Cabinet 13, which we manage together, would never have become filled with so many records of extraordinary people.

  But why it is that our cabinet is filled with such impossible documents is a question for which there is no simple answer. The story of Cabinet 13 is a complicated one, and if I make the mistake of simplifying it, you might not believe me. It took Ludger Sylbaris thirty years to write about the people of Saint-Pierre. So, I think it best if I explain Cabinet 13 piece by piece, story by story. Besides, even I still don’t understand all of the cabinet’s contents.

  “Is this some sort of modern Naturalis Historia?”

  This was the first question I asked after seeing Cabinet 13.

  “This is the end of the Bible,” Professor Kwon said. “The last stage for the species known as Homo sapiens. And the start of a new species.”

  According to the famous Mitochondrial Eve hypothesis, all modern humans descended from a single African woman who evolved from apes. And from this “Mitochondrial Eve” in Africa, the entirety of humankind set forth, migrating east, toward Western Asia and the Middle East, and then across the Bering Sea toward North America and down to South America. Obviously, these migrations weren’t linear, happening in waves as some decided to stay while others left; but eventually, humans spread throughout the entire world, and for 200,000 years they reproduced and flourished. Over that time, they made the Earth into a landfill, cut down a third of the Amazon rainforest to make beef for hamburgers, and even sent spacecraft to Mars and Jupiter.

  But now after 200,000 years, at least according to Professor Kwon, the curtain is finally falling on the final act of Homo sapiens. Just as the age of dinosaurs ended, humans are now becoming a footnote in the history of life on Earth. Why you ask? We can’t be sure, but some say it’s because humans can no longer endure the “internal cultural orders” they created. And isn’t that a little ironic? It’s not some external threat from space, nor is it some internal threat from Earth. No, it’s the order we humans made ourselves – an order in which we can no longer survive.

  I’ve imagined all the ways humankind might meet its extinction: an asteroid impact, extreme climate change, a lunatic with nuclear launch codes, the appearance of a deadly airborne virus, or the emergence of artificial intelligence and a robotic civilization. But I never imagined humans would be become fossils because of the order they themselves created. What does that even mean? Is it that the capitalist system, which humans invented two hundred years ago, is now growing into an uncontrollable beast that will devour human society? I’m not sure if anyone knows.

  “A new species is emerging. This isn’t the evolution of a species; it is the birth of a new one.”

  “You mean the age of humans is coming to an end?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “That’s so depressing.”

  “Well, Deok-geun, nothing lasts forever.”

  “Then I guess ten thousand years from now they will have to go to museums of natural history to see us humans.”

  “Ten thousand? You think it will take that long, with the way things are accelerating?”

  “Then how long?”

  “A millennium? Maybe half. And our remains will be on display in their museums only if we also assume they’ll even be interested in us. They might, but only as a cautionary tale they tell their children. ‘Don’t live like Homo sapiens,’ they’ll say. ‘They were a truly pitiful species.’”

  This is a story about a new species, one that has been hitherto considered an abomination, a disease, a form of madness. It is a story about people who have suffered from the side effects of that evolution. A story about people who have been ensnared in a powerful and nameless magical spell, unable to receive insurance benefits, proper treatment, or counseling. A story about people who have been physically and mentally devastated, and who have willingly or unwillingly lived a lonely and melancholic life away from the rest of the world. A story about people who – because they exist in an intolerant scientific world that brands anything that exists beyond its microscope as mysticism and heresy – must shut themselves in a cramped room to live a hard life, never having anyone to call for help. This is a story about symptomers.

  As one last example, there is a man who produces potent amounts of methane gas in his stomach. He can produce a flame as big as that from a flamethrower by holding a lighter to his mouth and burping. In fact, once when he was a little boy, he accidentally singed everyone’s hair by blowing out the candles on his birthday cake. He grew up as a shy, introverted child and spent many years hiding in his room with his embarrassing secret. But after much contemplation and searching, he finally left his room and found a doctor. But the only prescription the doctor gave him was, “You’ll be fine as long as you don’t do anything stupid, like holding a lighter to your mouth when you burp. Oh, and never burp around a large heat source.”

  That’s how helpful our beloved science is. But just imagine how sad and angry this man must have felt after being so insulted. He’s not afraid because he doesn’t understand why flames come from his mouth. No, he’s afraid because he doesn’t understand why he’s different.

  Indeed, symptomers have no way of understanding why such things happen to them. Neither can they receive treatment at medical institutions or counseling at counseling centers. This is because their “disease” doesn’t show up in textbooks. They have been left on the peripheries of the world, alone and dejected. How should we understand these poor people? Should we display them like freaks and cackle or gasp at them in shock before abandoning them in some remote place in the city? Or should we group their conditions together with psychological disorders like neurosis, obsessive compulsive disorder, and schizophrenia and lock them away in the dark corners of psychiatric hospitals?

  If I can say just one thing before you jump to rash conclusions, I want to clarify that I am not suggesting these unique individuals be featured on shows like Ripley’s Believe It or Not! or How in the World. Neither do I want to tell a magical fairytale about flying carpets and toads that turn into princes with true love’s kiss. In fact, I’m so averse to such fanciful things that people often call me a “square.” Why then am I writing a story like this, you ask? It’s to show you that these magical phenomena really do exist in our lives. Whether we accept it or not, whether we comprehend it or not, those illusions and phenomena that we deny the existence of are occurring every day all around us. You can find them every second in every house of this city – even within our own bodies. And they have a direct impact on our lives.

  Now that we have that settled, I think this would be as good a time as ever to introduce you to the wounded symptomers of this city.

  GINKGO TREE

  We once knew a man who had a ginkgo tree growing from his pinky. He was an average forty-year-old man who ran a stationery supplies store in front of a small elementary school in the country. And from July of 1998 to October of 2001 he came to us once a month to receive counseling and tests. Aside from his premature balding, which made him look far older than he actually was, and legs that made him look unbalanced and top-heavy because they were too skinny for his portly body, there was nothing extraordinary about his appearance. But that changed one day when, while clipping his nails, he discovered a tree growing from the tip of his finger.

  “At first I thought it was just a splinter. Can you imagine my surprise when I realized it was a tree?”

  Indeed, because the tree sprouting from his finger was so small and thin, at first glance it looked like a corn or wart. But if you looked closely, you could see three delicate branches and some adorable little roots growing beneath his fingernail
. After looking at the tree under a magnifying glass for some time, Professor Kwon declared, “There’s no doubt about it. It’s a ginkgo tree.” Having been diagnosed by a PhD in biology, you could say that the man was officially a ginkgo tree man. Personally, I thought it a bit ridiculous to call that thing – which looked more like a splinter – a ginkgo tree. To me, ginkgos were huge, magnificent trees that lived for thousands of years.

  He was an extremely shy man. During our counseling sessions he never knew where to look, and he would turn red like a schoolgirl whenever Professor Kwon made a joke. Even the simplest of questions made him flustered and start to stutter. Because he was never able to find the right words, he often misspoke and said nonsensical things. It was only when he talked about the gingko tree growing from his finger that this changed. Whenever the topic of the tree came up, he always became full of confidence, even extroverted. With a face full of pride, he could talk for hours on end about the ginkgo tree.

  “It grew a lot this month, don’t you think so? Look, the roots are digging deep into my skin. And on the left, there’s a new branch sprouting. I was so concerned last month when I started to smell the scent of root rot. I guess the soap I was using wasn’t good for the ginkgo tree. These days I’ve been staying away from detergents all together. And now look at it. It’s so much improved. I also relocated the checkout counter at the store to the window. That way the ginkgo tree gets plenty of sunlight. But I have to keep my arm still at all times. The ginkgo tree doesn’t like it when I move my arm too much. It stresses it out. You guys better watch out! Now that I know what to do, the ginkgo tree will grow big and strong.”

  The ginkgo tree, however, only reached 2.8 centimeters before its growth stunted. On the third Wednesday of each month when he came for counseling, I would take a picture of the tree, measure its length with a ruler, and make notes in a file. When I looked at the tree’s growth over time, it was clear that the ginkgo tree had stopped growing. But this was good news for us. It would be an unimaginable headache if the tree on his finger grew to be big and strong like a tree in the forest.

  With a look of worry on his face, he would always ask me, “Deok-geun, I mean, Mr Kong, why won’t the ginkgo tree grow anymore?” And I would say something like, “Well, I’m not sure.” It was the honest answer. After all, what else could I say to him? Why it was that a ginkgo tree was even growing from a man’s finger and not the ground, was something I could hardly believe, let alone explain. In fact, if it were possible, I would have grabbed the ginkgo tree by its proverbial collar and demanded answers. “Look here, ginkgo tree,” I would say, “I don’t know what your problem is, but you belong in the ground with the worms and ants, not in this man’s finger!”

  The man had inherited the stationery supplies store from his father after graduating from high school. He said they were able to survive with the money they made from the store. But as more people flocked to the cities, it was only natural that the countryside population diminished. This was only compounded by the plummeting birthrate. And the town where the man’s store was located was no exception; there were fewer children, and as a result, it became harder and harder to make a living running a stationery supplies store for schoolchildren.

  “I was really miserable in those days. I spent all day catching flies and watching over the junk food and cheap toys that no one wanted to buy. Now that I think about it, I really didn’t do anything back then. Twenty years I spent sitting in the corner of that stationery supplies store, staring off into space. Twenty years! But don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying they were tough times. Spending idle time was something I was used to, and it suited me well.”

  “But being the owner of a stationery supplies store is a pretty swell job, isn’t it? Think about it this way: children are the most beautiful things in the world. And every morning, you get to see dozens of children as they walk around and chatter like little birds, so happy and full of life. I bet not a day went by that you didn’t hear the laughter of children playing in the alley. They’d call out to you, ‘Good morning, mister.’ And you’d call back, ‘Good morning, children!’”

  When I said this, he scoffed.

  “You don’t know much about kids, do you, Mr Kong? They may look like angels, but that’s just a disguise. They’re little devils at heart.”

  The man would always lean over to see the exam results as I recorded them and ask me if there was any good news. I would often say something along the lines of, “Nothing in particular. But it’s not getting any worse.” Each time I responded this way, he would look so disappointed.

  “I look at the ginkgo tree every day. I feel like I should be doing something for it, but I’m not sure what. And every time it crosses my mind that the ginkgo tree might die, I get so unbearably scared.”

  It really seemed like he felt some sense of responsibility for the lifeform that had taken root in his body. I wanted to say something to ease his disappointment, but, as I mentioned before, I didn’t know anything about ginkgo trees growing from people’s fingers; so, there was really nothing I could say to him. All I could give was emotional support.

  “Cheer up,” I said one time. “Ginkgo are resilient trees. It’s not going to die. You know, they say ginkgo trees survived through the last ice age.”

  Giving me a defeated smile, he dropped his shoulders and returned home.

  Then, in the third year, the ginkgo tree’s growth suddenly began to accelerate. What had been the size of a pea the previous month was now as big as a chestnut. And after two months, it had grown to the size of an orange. And by the third month, it was as big as a watermelon.

  “Isn’t it splendid! This month it also grew an amazing amount. I guess the manure I applied to it was effective – smelly but effective. But even though I’m so happy it’s growing, what worries me is how people are going to start taking notice. I hate that. What happens if I have to go on TV? What if people crowd around me and ask me to show them my ginkgo tree? I hate loud commotions. And I don’t think it will be good for my ginkgo tree.”

  But this was the least of our worries. Professor Kwon and I were more concerned about the man’s well-being. Obviously, not being able to take root in the ground, the tree’s only source of sustenance was the man’s body; if this continued, we had no way of predicting what the final result was going to be. The ginkgo tree had already taken root deep inside the man’s body, and as a result, his left hand was nearly paralyzed. But despite our warnings, the man only continued to talk about what he was going to do for the ginkgo tree.

  “I think it’d be best if I stop hiding and let it grow out in the open, for everyone to see. I know it’ll be difficult, but if I want to continue caring for my ginkgo tree while also being a member of society, there’s no other way. Do you think they have an expert on ginkgo trees at Forest Services, Mr Kong? Someone like that will surely be able to give me a lot of helpful advice. I have so many questions. How much light should my ginkgo tree be getting? And I heard ginkgo trees are dioecious; do I need to cross-fertilize my ginkgo tree, then? If I wave my arm in the air, will it cross-fertilize itself? Or do I need bees or butterflies? Oh, but I hate bees. What then? But it should fine. I can stand butterflies.”

  As time passed, the man became gaunt. He lost so much weight that there was almost nothing remaining of his once portly body but a thin shadow. He had jaundice in his face and the paralysis in his hand had spread to his entire arm. Worse yet, he was having digestion problems and his stomach rejected everything he ate. We told him his only choice was to amputate and extract the roots that had burrowed into his hand. If he let things continue, he was going to die. But he politely rejected our advice. Instead, he started to put all of his affairs in order, like a man preparing for death.

  “Have you all lost your minds!” yelled his wife when she came to us in a fit. “He’s leaving his family behind for a stupid tree? Another woman I could understand. But a tree? Please, try to talk some sense into him. He can put it in a planter
if he likes it that much.”

  From his wife’s perspective, this was all madness. I can’t say I disagreed with her. But it didn’t matter what we thought; his preparations were decisively quick and simple. After transferring the house and the store to his wife’s name, he simply left. We only heard from him when he called us from the bus terminal.

  “I’m leaving now. Thank you for everything.”

  It was a short call. He didn’t even tell us where he was headed.

  I had heard of plants growing on corpses. But I had never heard of a tree that grows on a living body. So why? Why did that ginkgo tree want to take root in live human flesh, rejecting the fertile, holy ground that had been given to it and blessed by Mother Nature? We may never know.

  He would send us letters from time to time. One day he was staying in an underground hut in Mt Songni, the next, he was in Mt Taebaek. He never did reveal how he was able to eat and move around without attracting people’s attention. His last letter was addressed from Mt Chiri.

  The ginkgo tree is healthy. I’m healthy, too. I think it’s ready to stick its roots in the ground. I’ll have to go deeper into the mountains before then. I guess I won’t be able to send any more letters once the ginkgo tree takes root in the ground. But I will continue to look after the tree, just as I have been. Thank you for helping plant life in my body. And don’t worry. This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my entire life.

  Because I’ve never tried to grow a ginkgo tree on my body, I can’t really understand how one could be so happy in spite of (or rather, because of) a terrible tree that survives by vampirically sucking on one’s blood. But he did write that he was the happiest he’d ever been. If he’s not already dead, he’s probably living with that ginkgo tree somewhere deep in Mt Chiri. And if he doesn’t die soon and continues to live, it’ll all be thanks to that ginkgo tree. I can imagine him now, hanging on like a leaf or a piece of fruit to the branches of a ginkgo tree many times larger than himself, suckling on the nutrients the gingko tree has extracted from deep in Earth.