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?"