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?"