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?"