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?"