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?"