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?"