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?"