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?"