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?"