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?"