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?"