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?"