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?"