(Agaonidae) The fig isn't a fruit but a hollow garden of flowers, according to an animated video explaining the mutualism between fig tree and wasp. A female wasp tunnels into the fruit's tight inflorescence through a puckered ostiole, her large ruby eyes intent upon the goal. Her wings will likely get shredded in passage, though some books describe how this is an insect so tiny it might slip with ease through a needle's eye. But here in this garden of inward- turning flowers, impossible corridors constrict her body like a vise. Almost without breath, she has to hurry and deposit her eggs, while shedding pollen she's carried from the fruit in which she was born. Before she dies, her offerings slip into pockets called galls. When it's time, these pods will release her children so they can start the cycle all over again: the males, wingless and blind, will mate with their sisters before carving for them a path out of the garden. Most males die before they themselves reach the gate. But the females who make it out follow the wind's warm scent, tracking down the next tree with fruit that must be nudged to full ripeness by these small offerings of death. And isn't it always like this? Cut one open: your tongue would still knowingly graze on sweetness, even among the dead.