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?"