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?"