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?"