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?"