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?"