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?"