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?"