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?"