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?"