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?"