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?"