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?"