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?"