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?"