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?"