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?"