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?"