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?"