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?"