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?"