orange-clad train-climber crew, moving  
 along the  rusty  cargo  cars  like some 
 species  of  ferrophage  insect. up  and 
 down  the  train, checking bolts, oiling 
     joints, drinking coffee, smoking     
               cigarettes.                
                                          
            
                                          
 we  were  going south through finland at 
 the   time,   sleeping   close  to   the 
  furnace, watching the aurora borealis.  
  twenty-something members of the crew,   
 most  of  which   were   mechanics,   or 
 loaders,  with  large  and  hairy  hands 
 that could  swallow my entire body.  and 
 me  featuring as  the  cute and  asocial 
 radio  operator, stationed in  the  back 
    of the kilometer-long train, which    
         served me good and well.         
                                          
 and then one  night, there's  a missile. 
 we  would routinely pick up  new cars at 
 the  tail, and drop  some off,  as a way 
 of  earning  some  extra  money.  but  a 
 missile, and appearing silently  in  the 
 middle  of  the  night  at   that?   not 
         entirely... comfortable.         
                                          
 i call it in  on the walkie-talkie.  not 
 many others  awake,  they  know  nothing 
 about  it, and appear concerned as well. 
                                          
            
                                          
 when  i  fall  awake  in the  afternoon, 
 karl  is  there,  smiling  at  me.  "hey 
 boy,"  he says,  "wanna help  me  make a 
                  call?"                  
                                          
 after  he's brought  me  coffee,  i dial 
 the  frequency  from  his notebook,  and 
 after   a   while  there's  a  reply  in 
 pan-slavic.  karl  laughs  and  makes  a 
 reply in the same language.  even though 
 we  both have  headphones i can't follow 
 at all, but  i hear the word "missile" a 
                few times.                
                                          
 i'm  almost  snoozing again  at the time 
 karl puts down the  headphones and slaps 
 me on  my back.  "allright boy.  i  just 
 sold  a missile."  he  practically beams 
 at me, teeth filed  sharp. "wanna make a 
                 detour?"