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?"