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?"