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?"