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?"