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?"