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?"