The train itself—a marvel of the age, a monument to the ingenuity of Man and to his ceaseless striving for mastery over the earth. Twenty carriages long and as tall as the great gates of St. Andrei's Cathedral, with towers at either end; an armored fortress to plow the great iron road that must itself stand as one of the new wonders of the world, a miracle of engineering that lets us traverse once more these barely imaginable distances. The Trans-Siberia Company succeeded where so many others had failed, embarking on a project so fraught with danger that the greatest engineers in the land swore it could not be done. To cross land that has, since the end of the last century, been turning against its occupants; to face strangeness for which we do not have the language to describe; to build a railway to safely carry us over all those perilous miles.

The Cautious Traveller may balk at the very mention of the Greater Siberian Wastelands, at spaces so vast and unkind and stories so inimical and our sense of all that is decent and human and good. But it is the humble aim of this author to take the Traveller by the hand and act as a constant companion on their journey. And if I myself appear to falter, then know that I too am by nature and inclination, Cautious, and that there were times on my journey when the horrors outside threatened to overwhelm me; when reason trembled in the face of unreason.

I was once a Godly man and full of certainties. This book must stand as a record of what I lost along the way, and as a guide for those who follow, in the hope that they may better bear the strange days of their journey, and sleep a little sounder through the uneasy nights.

FROM THE CAUTIOUS TRAVELLER'S GUIDE TO THE WASTELANDS BY VALENTIN ROSTOV
(MIRSKY PUBLISHING. MOSCOW. 1880)
INTRODUCTION, PAGE 1