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?"