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?"