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?"