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?"