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?"