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?"