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?"