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?"