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?"