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?"