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?"