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?"