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?"