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?"