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?"