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?"