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?"