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?"