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?"