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?"