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?"