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?"