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?"