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?"