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?"