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?"