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?"