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?"