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live from then on. It was situated just outside one of the boulevards of the Garden Ring, which circumscribes the historic beauty of Old Moscow. He was shown to a dormitory which could accommodate up to twenty men. The only private space allotted to each man was his bed. It came with a yellow bedspread and a thin flat pillow that could be raised by placing a folded sweater under it. Kolia was informed that he would share the outhouses with the other men, and would spend his spare time in their company. The workweek would consist of forty-eight hours, including Saturday. Therefore Jews were not permitted to observe their religious beliefs. The objective of the man-machine was to walk towards communism and freedom through education and labour. He could expect a sudden and difficult fraternity — thefts were documented — but for the most part, friendships formed as a matter of course, just like they do in all communities, and the men often helped each other and exchanged favours.
    Kolia started work right away in the sewers beneath the foundations of a hotel that was under construction. Travelling to his worksite for the first time, he saw a group of huge cranes flying low against the sky. He marvelled at all the taxis criss-crossing the city and the streetcars gliding beneath their wires. He would come to prefer these to the subway. Moscow was truly charged with electricity.
    His job was to hand tools to the other workers and cart out rocks and mud, which were then driven away by truck and dumped in an outlying suburb of the city. The men rarely spoke to each other, concentrating instead on the task at hand; the daily quotas had to be reached and the implicit competition between them had to be respected from the outset. It was in the hostel that friendships were made — during the day the men were far too busy emptying the bowels of Moscow.
    In Gorky Park, Kolia was finally able to take in the full measure of the city. He had walked across the nearest footbridge which overlooked the Moskva River and found himself in the Frunzenskaya district, which was home to artists of all kinds, from writers and editors to dancers with the Bolshoi, and circus performers. He too would live here one day. He watched as children, and men and women of all ages, played chess and checkers on low wooden tables. There were people lying under trees reading books. Small boys in their work smocks took their breaks in the shade. Women in baggy pants threw balls back and forth. Staying in shape was important for maintaining stamina at work. Other women in stylish dresses shielded themselves from the sun with oriental parasols, which were evidently in fashion. The gymnastic equipment for exercising after a day’s work or on the weekend was almost never used. From time to time, a voice would soar up out of large loud speakers with official announcements and directives for Moscow’s citizens, who were to educate themselves, enjoy themselves, and comport themselves in a manner that was not offensive to public order.
    After several minutes of hesitation, he followed a crowd of pedestrians into the subway, allowing the mechanical stairs to carry him underground. It was overwhelming. Kolia struggled to grasp the concept of the subway station and studied the other passengers for guidance. But it was impressive; he hadn’t anticipated that the station would be such an extraordinary work of art, and each time his eyes fell upon pink marble or a mosaic or a grand chandelier, he was deeply affected. And every time he stopped to look at something, he was bumped into, shoved, and accused of being thoughtless and inconsiderate by people whose Russian might have been more polished than his, but it was still Russian.
    Kolia came to detest this mode of transportation. Working in the sewers in the summer gave him enough time underground. But from time to time, he would take the escalator and descend into the subterranean museum where he had found so