Boys passed as ‘A1′ usually underwent Assignment in the week before their 11th birthday. They’d enter the tramcar-narrow room with its mossy skylights and wall tiles the colour of Danube sludge, thinking about shiny diesel locomotives, sleek jetliners, or shell-scarred battle tanks. In most cases the machine detected these emissions, and assigned appropriately. Sometimes, however, things went awry. Take my best pal, Valka. Despite the fact that Goliath steamrollers were in his blood, he wound up psycho-tethered to a 3M8 ‘Ganef’ SAM missile. (more…)