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?"