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?"