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?"