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?"