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?"