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?"