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?"