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?"