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?"