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?"