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?"