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?"