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?"