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?"