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?"