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?"