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?"