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?"