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?"