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?"