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?"