Darya walked alone, a tiny figure lost in a vast plain, surrounded by a rain of ash that burned under every step. She knew this place. Again, she was heading for a Heilmann locomotive, planted at the foot of a grove of puny trees. Still no railroad on the horizon, just this machine lost in the middle of nowhere. The girl hurried on and went aboard without the slightest hesitation. The décor was identical to her last visit and the half-dozen women present immediately turned their heads in her direction. They exchanged a few instructions on the operation of the locomotive but in a more hesitant tone. They seemed at the same time embarrassed and happy with this intrusion. They spoke mechanically with something strange in their voices. Then Darya noticed that with each word, they twisted their
