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?"