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?"