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?"