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?"