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?"