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?"