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?"