A whistle shatters the silence, and a train flies by the village at high speed.
“Like the trains—they work,” Sergei says.
A young boy from the neighborhood walks up to us on the street, looking curious. We
learn his name is Maxim. Sergei reaches into his pocket and takes out a keychain—a mini-
Kalashnikov rifle—he bought in the museum gift shop. He hands it to Maxim.
“Eto Kalashnikov,” Sergei explains. Maxim shakes the gift around in his hands, then
stares up at me. “Eto David,” Sergei says. “Iz Ameriki.” (This is David. He's from Amer-
Maxim's eyes grow big. He smiles. And he reaches out and shakes my hand.