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?"