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?"