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?"