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?"