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?"